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Ben Brinkburn Jan 2013
A lot of addicts came out of the jungle
where the word atrocity was neutered
became a way of life
shine the silver globe
walk the streets of this city
score down by the quay where once

clippers berthed and later
freighters unladened their
fruit and spices and
even slaves but it’s now a marina
with cinemas and  fast food outlets
and bright rain-soaked lights

and maybe it is possible to
make it to Assateaugue Beach,
give it one more go photograph the
wild horses camp out in a glade
take plenty of insect repellant but
be careful not to sniff too much of it, hey,

Yoxall, remember him?  Blew himself up
his tent went up in a ball of flames
how Roxy had laughed how the forest
had frowned
how the surf had crashed where love
had faltered, mainly for personal

reasons; then the thought had occurred
to drown drink in the Atlantic.
Lightning had crackled on the horizon all night
it seemed romantic a Grand Gesture
but no one would notice, the only impact,
one less customer for Ronnie outside the

Old Dime, Friday nights, a busy time and
Roxy had laughed again she said she had
been refunded some cash on ebay, even though
there was nothing wrong with her purchase
[two grand’s worth of  porcelain elephant
she’d ordered for no other reason
than being extraordinarily drunk]

and the seller had
wrote her they would do it this time as
a one off, as a jester of goodwill.  
Now then isn’t that what we all need?  
No snap of rifle fire
no severed baby arms
no skewed bodies on many poles
no scooped out skulls filled
with another’s blood.  

Just give us all
a jester of goodwill.  

One each.  

That will do.
shireliiy Dec 2015
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Nat Lipstadt Oct 2014
White Tissues

a thousand years ago
I had to do the shopping,
(short story, irrelevant)

angry, she,
always angry,
the ex called me careless+...
never quite remembered to buy
the no~color tissues,
white only, on the list ordered,
to avoid decorative mismatch clash
to not offend the bathroom guests's
sensibilities and refined fleshy color palettes,
and not to match thereby,
to unduly reveal
the mismatch of
two lives incompatible

she ****** the color from my life...

still now,
buy only
whitely, precisely,
always,
for the colors
in my life, of my life,
have now been returned to me

but they are best cherished,
visible inside, looking out,
painted filter to enhance,
to reveal!
the joys inherent
in the colors of a
refunded, redounding rebounding,
re-fined happiness internal

tissues white now employed
to store the joy colored in colorful tears,
re-defying re-de-finding-fining
the contrast
from the sorry past,
tears now in living color
shed while writing
this happy colored vignette

~~

Poems of Color

just too much
colorless cold,
to decamp to,
sit upon the Adirondack throne
that is by his name,
by the cold waters,
now winter coated with
white-capped amber bluewaves
arriving jack-frosted on the lifeless beach

over this weathered sanctum,
natures supremacy reigns,
no matter the season or
his faulty human body's
weak reasoning,
it rules,
despite your frail poetic absence

but without your imposition
upon companion grey,
ensconced patiently
in that rarified atmosphere,
where and when
the sea sword
knights and inspires
the benign, benighted poet,

the human in him
frets and worries

where and when
ever again,
will nature deign to rain
poems upon him and his
winter-storaged writing organs?

the poet,
through his own
winnowy window reflection,
sees the sight of
the empty chair
between him and the sea air and
pondering more,
how shall he ever write
in the upcoming months of bleak?

through the frost-edged glass,
that old chair,
now sudden animated,
sensing his poetic human presence,
it turns toward its missing occupant,
voice aged reassuring,
speaking,
rhyming, 
it chants,
somber intoning...

"the poems writ yet still  undiscovered
but inscribed upon
my weathered slats and armrests,
have your name and no other,
therefore, there fired,
perforce,
they await your return,
come spring...come summer

now is the season of your hibernation,
we sense your fearful
winter forebodings and
speculations of consternation

know these unopened poems
are in fluid stored,
when you return
to our joint station,
we jointly will celebrate their
first day of naissance

you are charged,
you sole possess the
eye colored liquid visions
to see them
in the splinters and the breezes
through to their natural
childbirth revelation"


~~~

The Colors of Life Everlasting*

blondes, brunettes, redheads,
the goodbye colors of the
street's tree choir members
and their leafy gowned denizens,

the good stiff chill upon them,
the selfsame chill,
in my anguished mind,
now hiding

those partial unclothed trees,
to me sing,
a comfort food song
heard above the quiet terror of the
noises of a winter's wind precursors

"we green,
will be again
tho old,
spring green
is signature of our almost
life everlasting

once you wee were,
free green uncaring, youthful,
presumptuous presuming
that you too were,
in possession of
life everlasting

your colors
have changed too,
the process,
your process, different,
unlike our scheduled
rebirthing maintenance

yours a continuum slide,
with no reversal allowed,
no returning
you
to your first days of
crayon drawing youth,
unlike us,
a calculus of impossibility

we will turn young again
for many seasons more,
you,
never will

new eyes will feast upon our
glories refreshed
and love our
green visor shade cast

yet special are you,
the man-poet
who was chosen
by forces controlling,
to see and to tell,
witness-write of our annualization
during our overlapping
frames in time

when to the shade of hades
your physic sent,
our limbs, our leaves, our lives,
as-long-as-they-too-shall-last,
will cover thy remains and
give your poems back to the
sultry summer breeze from
whence they came,
and the colors
of your words
will be then
the colors
of your life everlasting"
10-26-14
Circa 1994 Mar 2015
Sometimes I wish you didn't
Love me.
It feels like I trapped you.
Like you'd choose to stay with me
And stay miserable.
You think I'm the best
You can do.
That shows how much you know.
You were overcharged
For the limited services I provide.
Return me and get your money back.
Then invest it in someone
Without tears and cracks.
The Darkness Aug 2012
Words once spent cannot be refunded,
And harsh words between lovers
Cut twice as deep. I can erase the horrible things I say,
But a wound is still left on you, the person I love the most.
I will clean and dress that wound for you, until it closes
And heals, and I will kiss it each day, until the pain fades away,
And leaves behind nothing but the tiny scar,
which we add to the collection of the scars we both bear,
And the list of trials and tribulations that have made our love stronger.
Knowing my words hurt you so, rips my intestines out trough my mouth,
Flays my skin with a razor made of salt, and dunks my feelings
In a vat of acid,
And it is what I deserve
For hurting someone who does so much for me,
And grants me the freedom to be me.
I can say I'm sorry until the frozen hell melts again,
And it wont make a difference,
I will instead, show you I am sorry,
From this day forward
I won't cut you again,
My goblin of cruel words is dead.
Your love helped me **** it.
James Nigh Aug 2014
between the grey and dull days,
they were silver.

sparkling like all the things i said i'd get you.

but refunded.
always refunded.

the stores and i had a misunderstanding...

"but she CHEATED ON ME!"
"i'm sorry, sir. no refund."

and so i got protective of my expenditures,
material or not.
but i spent more time, emotion and trust in you...

but it was all for naught.

no matter what i bought.
it wouldn't bring you to visit me now.

you're done.
I am a firm believer that love potions would make the world go round

Nobody would be broken by love
and all spoken love would be words forced down someone's throat
and everyone would be allowed a token of love
and once the token was spent it wouldn't be refunded
and when one would like to make an exchange,
        rather than being forced into solitude, they would just drink more of that forbidden poison
and forced words would be acceptable
and no one would have more tokens of love than others
and no one would be broken
and every word that be spoken
        would be product of a token
and everyone would have a flask of love
and everybody would be drunk and happy
Jon York Sep 2013
This bright new day... complete with
24 hours of opportunities, choices, and attitudes
cannot be exchanged, replaced or refunded,
so handle it with care and make the most of it
for there is only one per person.

There are no mistakes, only lessons
so love yourself, trust your choices,
and everything is possible and don't let
your circumstances harden you so much
that you become resentful and afraid,
just let them soften you and make you kinder
because you always have that choice.

Whether you accept life or not
is not really a choice because
really the only choice is how
and always know that "heaven on earth"
is a choice that you must make,
not a place that you find.

We have two choices in this life
and they are to accept things the way they are
or to accept responsibility for changing them
and know that in a time of crisis
all expectations, all pride and all fear of embarrassment or failure
will just fall away leaving only
what is truly important.

Once we start to see the beauty of love and life,
the ugliness that is all around us
starts to disappear and we can begin to enjoy
the life that we are in and we can also realize
that all of the peace, wisdom and joy in the universe
is already within us and we don't have to
gain, develop, or attain them because
all we really need to do is to open our eyes
and realize what is already here
and who we really are.

Learn much from those who have gone before you
and from them learn perfect patience, perfect wisdom,
perfect compassion and always believe
that you will ultimately succeed
at whatever you do,
never forgetting the value of persistence
and never forgetting that the highest
form of wisdom is kindness.

Learn to live for others and they will live for you
and learn that the problem is not that there are problems
but that the problem is expecting otherwise
and know that our time here is limited
so don't waste it living someone else's life which
will lead to strange days indeed.                                   Jon York          2013
Self improvement isn't always
Easy but nothing ever is
When it's worth equals your birth
And no longer do I feel cursed

Cause control with moderation
Accountability and resiliency
Needs alignment so my assignment
Is to create a formula like science

That leaves me less defiant
And use my rolodex of excuses  
Cause that laziness is useless
Or maybe I'm just to stupid

But you don't have to be smart
To learn from a mistake
That I inadvertently force on myself
Mimicking the traits of ****

Without the date so I try to escape
To make my life better
Cuz I believe it's never too late
Wait....they say never say never

Which is more convoluted than clever
So whatever, I just wanna be better
So I leave this motivational letter
to remind most hardship endeavored

Are created by me so whether
I call it bad luck deep down I know
lobotomy of proper ideology leaves my life like our Economy, and its told

Philosophy states success is made when preperation meets opportunity
And it's been hard prepping for what can feel like a dead end but... No

Cause faith isn't just for religion
You must calculate your vision
Cuz any goal met must first be set like premonition the first Provision

Of many on a desired mission
no longer will my present position discourage me cause courage.Be my currency even if currently conditions

Leave me impositioned by decisions
Of the past that finally crash
When it chases me to grasp
The changes I've made but that

Is the bad karma I rightfully have
Wooven like its tapestry that flows
So without a needle&thread; or learning to knit i still knew how2sew

forced to reep it and keep it asan
Expensive lesson given
Ramification and consequence
Once written will later find u wishin

That the epiphany now hittin me
Didn't need so much time to see
But the sams transgressions may
Also be a blessin, a present of me

Who is evolved from who I use to be
But still knowing its nor enough
So more consciously I move on as it cautions me to live lawfully tough

And although premature I grew up
This reflexion will be my incubator
better late than not seein the indicator to act as my Instigator

The initiative initiating creator
So if you judge me for early labour
That conceived the belief Received i only hope it relieves knowing these

Words are left to show your deceived
But if that's the cost I wagered
Then this poem now stands a receipt for dues paid and mayb one day later

I can be refunded or if nothing write it Off as a cost of business
Or even education bridging the gap
Of inflation since my occupation

Leaves me expendable so vacation
is taken at club prescription med
So metaphysically I fly to my own
Tropic island gettin out my own head

Where I dare swim in the despair
Of being overwhelmed by damage
left by dumb adolescence to manage
The mess it collects so i bandage

damage i caused Unnecessarily
Physical and mental damage
mislabeling Addiction as a habit like affliction warnings were in spanish

Walking around while I fly high
Not realizing I was being ravaged
So if i end average its stil better than
The full picnic basket short a sandwich

That I was, with a side order of
A chip on my shoulder
Which I learned to swallow with my
Pride which is y i got fat when older

Which is a built Im jacket as colder
It will definitely get til karmas done
Dishing out what outta be awfully
Close to described as ******

A relationship maintained constantly
And a futures what it's costin me
Basically karma holds the **** u emit
Like it was a bag of your colostomy

Only it gets tossed back onto me
Which sparked nostalgia in my head
Hearing my mothers voice echo
Now making sense of why she said

I was **** for brains or **** head
Like my dad often used
Not as abuse but to give truth
Of what becomes of wasted youth
Martin Narrod Jan 2015
This cough never goes.  It's the same cough my grandfather had in Auschwitz. We both don't have shoes that fit, but nobody cares. Somebody could be a famous keyboard player, a violinist, she may have been good with a pen- all of us our apes now and frozen. Maybe it's you who eats the intestines, heart, and eyeballs. Some say the taste is great, but it won't be I who eats the sight out of anything I've sent into the afterlife. A world of people who send the ****** carcasses blind, dead, and mute bumping into the brimstone walls in the middle Earth. It could be a hollow sounding hell or the sweet sounds of the Elysian fields, but now they are deaf, mute, and blind. These aren't the same persons using all of the hot water when they take their once a week shower. Even she could have showered every day. Even if there was a fire, a shower is safe from a fire. Steam is great for the lungs. Every creak is haunting, every peep is a beast living in the walls. I've been so scared I might never have an ******* again. This past week I got dust for nostalgia two for one.

You should remember this: people who aren't ***** don't wonder if they are or not. Your mom isn't right but everything you've been up to is off-putting, makes us all uneasy, what you're after is very, very wrong for you. You won't know you're wrong until you're tortured watching someone you love going through it. It is so ******* dry in here. This morning I must've blown my nose and coughed out an ounce of grossness. Dried throat problems, soot, ashy soot, not enough water or miracles, or simple answers to the questions racing through my head over and over. I ask you for an answer and all you can say is you're sleeping. Liars are weak at producing results. He is a liar that you are okay with somehow. I thought you might even fake or pretend something to give us assurance. We don't know what to do or what we're doing, but at least we admit we don't have a clue.

The first problem was stealing those sunglasses. $600 for another pair; that's not happening. I paid for dinner for you because you forgot to eat, then when they got it wrong you tried to take it out on me, and when they refunded the money, you kept it. That hardly makes any sense, and it's not the first time you've robbed me when you thought I didn't notice. I just haven't mentioned it because it gives me a bit of a smile watching you glide around your life thinking you're the ****- but really you are the ****. The coolest girl ever, I just wish you saw you the way I do; you deserve more than I think you'll give yourself. Maybe your **** is painted gold, since you still managed to squeeze your hips and lips and smile at the right time. It's nothing. Don't worry about it. When people have tried to fool me, it never happens the way they think it would. I tried to let you know you were worthy of me and that you're worthy of your own happiness and self-worth.  You have always impressed me one way or another. Nelson Mandela may have been a great musician. I've watched women and angels morph into biting flies and fish with ick, I've watched my wife lose her mind, second to that and I thought that was the worst....but second to that was watching you sabotage our trending beauty within one another. To take on someone else's child is like getting The Gift, but more expensive and depressing. I will never respect the way you've come to know him, and I cannot tell you how ridiculous it is to hear you talk about commitment. You're not even committed to yourself yet. But I'm here for you. I'm just going to tell the truth...

So maybe that makes him *** then. Idk i don't care
Poetic T Nov 2016
My heart is like loose change,
some times that lucky penny
is lost and never refunded.

But some times that little coin
that was just covered in lint is
rubbed and a new gleam is found.

*"Can you dispense a moment and spend
a thought on each others heart beats,
Keshan Oct 2016
Obnoxious arguments; I rant only
My words, shard glass tearing souls
No exception is there, my wrath is equal upon all
Though for you, are the wounds mendable.
Excuse myself in rage, do I never
A barrage do I release, to free myself
Humaneness, my preach to oppose another
The hurt I inflict, is remembered by my own.
As your silence befalls me, my guilt grows
My thoughts erratic, not whole
What was spoken, can not be refunded
A friend, a foe; my acts deceive.
The loathe towards myself, my cell cast
Forgiveness a key, you grant.
Antares Aug 2019
milk hair, milk clothes
a world painted in thick hues of the very same cream
the whirr of a printing press on blank paper
The flutters of fragile wings are perhaps all but enough to bring a child to hasty tears.

A mirror bought to
of echoing frailty,
a chord at its highest piercing note.

The crescendo before dusk.

A
pair of hands encased in its own
Who                                                          ­  
polite and light on the tongue,
                                                         ­                   a vain blind
                                                                ­           no less
Barred fingers in cells of clickety clackety letters and fonts of paintbrushes or the odd twitch.
It prays.
                                         Soundless noise.
                                                          ­      not a pin-drop
                                                                ­       not the screeches of bosses

And when the paper is stacked high on coffee refrains and static routine.
It screams.
The mirror.                                      

Cell             blown to bits
Custody               broken

Mirror tattered
refunded at a bitter price.    

Blank as snow and crisp as winter.
Gone like snow the very next morning.
But ever so physically there.
I have no clue
Surbhi Dadhich Nov 2017
When I migrated to your heart
Your soul refunded me
When I was going for a trip
To your brain
Your memories pushed me out
When I entered through your deep breath
Your lungs whined me
When I entered through radio waves
Your nerves locked me
When I entered as a fear
You shed me out
As tears
But I get it now
My soul
My memories
My tears
Are the reason
For your valour..
Then why don't you call back your departed soul...?
Salmabanu Hatim Jul 2019
It is not your Birthday,
Neither Christmas nor anniversary,
But, I have a gift for you,
It is very special,  authentic,
A limited edition,
My gift for you is "My Love"
It cannot be refunded or exchanged,
However, it comes with a lifetime of guarantee.
Please take care of my gift,
It's breakable,
Hold it close to your heart.
23/7/2019
James M Vines Jul 2020
The police have been refunded, the jail house doors are open. The city streets are empty except for unruly mobs. they are waving all manner of flags and are making crazy demands. People have just tuned out and let them burn the cities down. The rich are closed up in their strong holds , while rural towns have closed off their roads. The movement is at an end, the rioters have won. They occupy city hall but the politicians have just given up. So now that they have what they want, what will come next. America has fractured as the world sits in astonishment, now that they have gotten what they want.
told me that you want this
why do i feel unwanted
you make it hard to believe

stop saying that you're coming
i want my time refunded
can't make it worth it to me

if i could give you another chance
if i could feel safe in your hands
wanted you to make me understand
but now i just wanna go

if you could've waited
had you underestimated
hopes are decimated
my pain isn't for show

are you happy now
that we hate each other's company
uncomfortable this close
wondering what you want from me

— The End —