Avatars Amok!

   
he is a vortex of feeling  
deep swirls lead to his center  
wherein all his swagger lies the heart of him  
it beats like a sledgehammer  
solid and true as the man himself  
 
the artistry of the poet is gritty and powerful  
pixelated dots holds his intensity  
he has the power to soothe or rattle  
depending on his mood at any given moment  
 
a true artist he lives for his art  
answering a calling to open minds  
look closer at his vortex it's an all seeing eye  
with the ability to see into the soul  
tapping into the universe capturing a piece of it  
and bringing it back home to us is his genius  
 
an everyday man so it would appear  
but look closer dear one  
with a single word--  
he can lift you up or bring you low  
so don't give him no lip...fair warning  
 
slice and dice his street cred  
don't fuck with his vortex  
it's a tornado of passion  
 
when he unleashes his intensity  
watch out...he caresses or cuts accordingly  
so learn some damned manners  
if you know what's good for you  
 
his name is PoetSpeak he's been laying down the law  
as it's been revealed to him  
hammering it home...I will never forget him  
 
 
 
 
 

Silhouetted by light-traced form      
around the window, behind the door-        
she stands, her hand upon its knob      
ready to turn, and yet she cannot.        
       
It will not open, that solid trunk      
safety net of former forest-        
not by grasp nor pull, revealing      
a living world beyond her being.        
       
Anxiety, birthed from shade-        
offers security of darkened wing.        
Riddles life a haunting maze,      
hand-feeds fear with doubt and lies.        
       
Today, she will not face the truth-      
in shadows safe and rumors loud.        
Maybe tomorrow, or even next year-        
or, maybe never, so it appears.      
       
Yet, Love is faithful, standing strong        
gently reminds, Take your time;        
if we cannot overcome in Life      
we most certainly will in Death.        
       
Where shadows dare not exist      
amid Source Energies of Truth.      
~        
       
Heaven_sent_Kathy      
https://deepundergroundpoetry.com/poets/Heaven_sent_Kathy/      
       
Kathy is a very prolific writer who couples deep feeling with spirituality.  Her writings reflect an astute observation of both a vulnerable self and family history.  Her life line to the world is poetry, and her dedication to the craft is an inspiration to those who read her offerings of love and hope.  

1  
silver jungle moon  
soft pads caress the night earth  
golden eyes seeing  
swift the lightning yellow flash  
swifter still the kanji’s stroke  

2  
yellow candles burn  
the sensei’s shodo in black lines  
tiger’s smiling mask  
a simple breath taken in  
release universe expels  
 
3  
jade pandora’s box  
brushes ink a table set  
words form from fire smoke  
at every turn careful steps  
at every step careful words  
   
4  
silver jungle moon  
soft thoughts caress darkened air  
tiger eyes burning  
her simple lines bring world’s birth  
how rare night and moon would bow  
 
 
 
How rare a gift indeed is Jade Pandora. I believe this is not only my first rensaku, but my first tanka, as well, which I never would have accomplished had it not been for Jade.  
 
When I came to DUP I only knew sonnets. The mathematics of form was all that made sense to me. But Jade showed me through her work and our collaborations the beauty, grace, and structure of free form and the Japanese short forms.  
 
With ultimate love and reverence- I bow to my sensei...  
Jade Pandora  
 
https://deepundergroundpoetry.com/poets/Jade-Pandora/

It was through death I learned of True Love,    
the separation of flesh from my tangible being.  
    
I hear you breathing with the earth, dormant    
winter cold and punctured breath of thaw;    
bursting capillaries of bleeding dirt.    
When you dissolved, I became mechanical---    
a living existence of programmed grief ...    
I couldn’t remember love, I longed to love again.    
But how to love what no longer exists was foreign.    
I turned to paper, there was no return to me -    
to anything that made sense, only blankness.    
   
You are still here through vibration of sound-    
and yet I cannot touch your physical form    
anymore than I can hold the wind tangling my hair…    
I can only touch the result: that thing the wind moves.    
Sometimes I felt dragged, as yesterday’s daydreams    
remembering, remembering always you are gone.    
   
But, though you have descended you have risen    
to remain my encouragement; you are within me    
and here shall remain for eternity…seeds have taken root    
in my heart despite your seeming absence.    
I believe it is the cycle of love, indestructibly growing    
dreams from those seeds through living words.    
   
Love is an eternal vibration I now feel---    
the pervasive humming of light is how I know you.    
It is the space, the separation that makes us:    
the known unknown fading from form    
to another, always returning to continue---    
as one wind follows the other, and more water    
flows under the bridge of new moments,    
   
True Love is becoming the story despite circumstance    
it is immortality through the sharing of words.    
~    
   
PoetsRevenge    
PoetsRevenge is an amazingly intense poet who couples human mortality with spiritual immortality.  She takes the unmaking of life to portray it is that very unmaking which makes us who we are. I have always been in awe of her writing ability to delve deeply into topics we may not want to face.  She stirs the uncomfortable inside us with hope and adds love with words.    
   
https://deepundergroundpoetry.com/poets/PoetsRevenge/