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Jeremy Betts Apr 2
If I were to slip and fall
Relinquishing the saddle
Once and for all
A clear sign of a lost battle
Would they lie just a little
Pretending it's a riddle?
Would I be Jeremy still
Or just the latest ashes on a relatives mantle
Unable to get a grip on a life with no handle
Forced into being a monkey in the middle
Avoiding the ferry man becomes a new struggle
Will I hear a verdict from a god or a devil?
Or choose for 'em, trying to make it all simple
Thanks too the highway install
And despite all the people
It's far quicker to stroll into hell
And the toll is only one soul

©2024
Madeleine Mar 20
My child
A simple task
You sometimes forget
Ask
Robert Ronnow Feb 13
There are 12 types of joy:
simple joy
almost joy
systemic joy
Saturday joy
expressing joy
knowing joy
all joy
max joy
constant inputs of joy
single greatest joy
sacrifice or joy
the face of joy
at the periapsis of earth’s orbit.
Jeremy Betts Jan 31
I wouldn't know the feeling associated with being valuable
I know vulnerable, I do know that
I know painful and invisible, dismissible and disposable
I know, "keep your nose outta trouble" hypocritical
I know the day-to-day that tries in every way to keep you face down while you play it off as being humble
It's your mind but can't join the huddle
While any spare time is stolen by the mental struggle
The battle plan is and always was simple,
"Toss more at him than he can handle,"
"More than humanly, no, humanely possible"
It's sad though
Because my recall is abysmal so I don't know
If I've never had my hands on a handle
****** from the get-go
Now just ruins of what was easily let go
By the many that have come before and there'll be more for sure though

©2024
Vivian Jan 27
the curtain’s wearing down
the wood is getting squeaky
i forgot my line
“line?”
the mask is falling off
the paint is chipping
the backdrop's missing
i forgot my line
“line?”
nothing looks the same
it’s felt off for a while
make up running
crew is gone
i’m alone
one man show
“line!”
i forgot my line
full house
crowd is here
show must go on
one man show
i forgot my line
they’re watching
they’re waiting
waiting to laugh
waiting to smile
where is my smile
what was my line
one man show
all alone
show must go on
so weak
so bleak
try to speak
“line?”
eyes close
head falls
deep breath
shoulders drop
i can’t pretend today
“And scene.”
Jeremy Betts Jan 20
Love letters and flowers, sweets and treats
It's all wasted money and time
She belongs to the streets
She was never "mine"
Left her scent on many sheets
Simple as a glass of wine
Line as long as 20 meet 'n greets
A free-for-all free for all, small of her back there's even a sign
How'd I miss that...?
Does love actually make you blind?

©2024
Carved stone for all to read
You cannot read it though
Feel it taught all over my skin
You just touch what you WANT to know
It could not be more obvious
Written all over my face
Choose to remain blind to the words
For you in the first place
If needing me to translate further
Not sure how else I can
Emotions simple to decipher
You don't want to know who I am
Written 2-8-21
Lydia Dec 2023
The way I tend to show my love is by making sure we have your favorite snacks in the cabinet and that your pillowcase is always fresh
It’s the little things for me
Ken Pepiton Dec 2023
The truthful simplicity of the untruth.
Is what Beatrice Potter said, of Ted Geisel's rhymes.

Is it true the untrue is so believable? Who know.

I, for one, must say I simply cannot say I know.
I, for another, might say I believe unknowing
is for one thing no worse than for two.

Any two agreed, as greedily as any two ever in was,
create a mind combined of two as different as me
from you… agree
and we form us, from a we wisht were true,

a we some see as awesome, just me and you.
I live with five children I need not correct nor control, and we play
on the day after Christmas in  timeless, persistent simplicity.
Living until childhood's innocense it sweeter than knowing better,
is as good a reason to suffer growing old as any ever sold.
Zywa Dec 2023
My work is simple,

I too am averagely --


uninteresting.
Poem "Arm" ("Poor", 2022, Koenraad Goudeseune), written on his deathbed

Collection "Over"
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