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  Jan 2016 Morgan Fiedler
ALamar
I want my poetry to provide insight into a world that's inherent to a mind state that mandates an introspective view of itself that uses that insight to make better choices, open minds to diversified voices that changes lives
The cross my poetry bears is made up of one thing
Facing fear, happiness, death, love, war, peace
The past, the future, the who, the what, the when, the where, the how
The what's going on right now
What can never be
The universe
Who are we spiritually?
The cross my poetry bears is Transparency
And every comma, period, semicolon, flow, rhyme, and stanza stands affirmed to catapult readers minds into orbit so every word might be seen as a glimpse of life in the affirmative
You see I don't just write poetry to write rhymes
I my poetry so I can bathe people's minds
  Jan 2016 Morgan Fiedler
ALamar
You are my strength
And my shield
My peace in the valley
My lilly in the field

© Antywnn L. Jones 2015
  Jan 2016 Morgan Fiedler
Maha Salman
Rain,
drops across the sliver panes of
a creaking window, sliding meticulously inside the
softened pores of my heart.
The droplets of the rain...graze my vision's confusion
for in one endless second
the oceanic clarity of a rain drop
spins its hidden secrets into
a
doze
of
blood.
  Jan 2016 Morgan Fiedler
Maha Salman
Weaving a dance within the melodic chaos of what we call music
is as if you ask
papers to rustle in synch with the deathly disposition of pollution.
It's easy to wreck this world with beauty
if one is able to entwine more trees across the strung cracks
of breaking twigs coated with spiders and
dead carcasses of honey bees battered to the ground.
Notions of spiders being artists are tossed with
disgust with the basis of a body
inked with obsidian tresses.
People forget that spiders create
webs painting the illusion of a dew dropped sky.
And bees fumble with honey
gorged within the melting ecstasy of sweetness.
Twigs.....
may not seem capable of more than snapping in dying echoes,
but they are a part of nature.
Isn't nature considered
beautiful?
  Jan 2016 Morgan Fiedler
ALamar
Creating, distancing myself from my own mind
Climbing stairs with no care of time
Completely submerged in the sublime
Flying above the veracity of war noire
No agenda
No ceiling or floor
Stop us not from exceeding expectations
Set by my own creation
No concept of death
I feel alive
Except when my hands tied
And not allowed to create

© Antywnn L. Jones 2016
Morgan Fiedler Jan 2016
Stop,
Think,
There's another way.
Don't hide,
Be you.
Show your vibrant colors,
And wash away the bruises.
Be  kind,
Laugh,
Smile,
Love.
Don't be afraid,
To face your demons
Morgan Fiedler Jan 2016
Hello everyone. I am relatively new to this site, but I can't wait to get immersed and discover all the absolutely amazing work people have done!!!!
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