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Nat Lipstadt Feb 4
a quote from Samuel Johnson, or Dr. Johnson, the storied eighteenth-century poet and essayist who once said:

“The sole aim of writing is to enable readers a little better to enjoy life, or a little better to endure it.”

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our “sole aim,”

Oh what burden the doctor places on our shoveling pens,
to be earthmovers
that dig trenches, uproot earth,
that lies and hides our faces, entombing our hearts,
eliciting and erupting emotions that cannot be contained,  
nor controlled,
indeed, deserving of replanting in
our shared selves, transplanted into a communal flowerpot
of our multi bursting colored commonality

lift my composing tools,
peer into
winter blue skies guarding the towers of
Manhattan isle, longing for guidance.
lusting for specificity of direction,
how,
how, to easy our burdens
with carefully selected and
careless wonderful words,
words that deal out caring uncarefully,
with a graceful recklessness of abandon
that open thy tears,
lift up the edges of your lips,
so that my duality is your duality,
the burden shared.
the burden eased…

to cry and laugh simultaneous,
lift and lighten,
a momentary distraction,
a cut flower in our vase,
that lasts but brief,
yet with each gaze repeated and
repeatedly,
well stains us with
eyes uplifting
8:03am Feb 4th, 2024
how quickly the new year molts into a
normality, resolutions tarnishing but still intact,
and any blue shade of sky, even the least
baroque and most pale, hints that summer warmth
is nearly visible…
Dave Robertson Mar 2022
As nightly, screens scream,
buckle, near break
with images of blistered humanity
abroad
with normal folk caught
in quick-quick-slow anxiety,
at home
a fat clown
knights a *****
Anton Snert May 2020
Brexit. Exit. There ain’t no turning back
Tear down the flag of Europe and hoist the Union Jack.
Throw out all the migrants, lock the borders down
Fill in the channel tunnel and watch the desperate drown

Brexit. Exit. We don’t need the EU
Krauts & Frogs & Belgians, telling us what to do.
Boris & his cronies are planning out our fate
You know that we can trust them to make our country great

Brexit. Exit what was that you say?
The interest rates are rising and you’ve had a cut in pay?
No-one wants to buy our goods the Pound falls through the floor
Boris has gone missing & Nigel’s locked his door

Brexit. Exit. Is this not what you planned?
Fighting with each other for this green and pleasant land?
Well there’s nothing left to fight for, our country’s turned to *****
As the last one leaves ‘Great Britain’ will you please turn off the light..
Jessica Head Mar 2020
Reading All My Stuff On Hellopoetry Makes Me Happy
Man I Miss This H.P
Having Time To Myself Reading.
Smiling At My Crazy Self From The Past.
Of How Crazy I Was Over Him
Gabriel
Fukk I Miss That Guy.
I Got Now Two Crazy Lil Men Now I Love Them Lots.
Rest In Peace Donald Herman Head.
Unpolished Ink Feb 2020
Robert Johnson

King of the blues

All shiny shoes and tilted hat

They don't come any hotter that that

He played the tunes of hearts desire

Guitar that smoked unholy fire

Furious notes from flaming fingers

Cracks the summer heat and lingers

Floating on the delta air

Each string a song of dark despair

Did Robert Johnson sell his soul

For music that would make him whole

Beauty style and heavenly grace

May start off in another place

The devils music leaves an odour

Could it be a whiff of soda!
Robert Leroy Johnson born 1911 the greatest blues guitarist ever born-was reputed to have sold his soul to the devil
I'd walk
and rather
shoe my
**** now
so laid
her heart
and soul
with my
bacchus pride
and love
or deceit
when true
justice was
vantage there
with boot
to regain!
Ode to Lady
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