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in the beginning, all poems were formless

on blended knee, the approaching, raging humility
tempered by a gale force need, the forth coming pose of compose,
you have urgings, mostly in a blink of an eye, then gone notions,
the writing is so a losing effort, you turn the paper’s aperture
sideways hoping to get an inside straight insight, but the poem
refuses to come, the ****** delayed is torturous and the
poem birthing
even worse

so you revert to basics to give the formless a shape,
recalling  a child’s learning that in the beginning,
“the earth was formless and void,
darkness was over the surface of the deep,
and the Spirit of God was hovering
over the surface of the waters.…”

so you insert a single sheet of 20Lb bond paper,
sliding the typewriters carriage smooth swift  
over to the starting gate bell,
typing, laughing out loud:

In the beginning
So righteous are you
Pointing your divine finger
That you selfishly avoided
Your very own mirror

And so distracted
you will fall into the flames
You apparently so fear
For others

Everyone is equal here
In the eyes
Of our god.
Renn Powell
You taught me a lesson, and that was to never trust again.
Peter Gareth
I used to be so desperately afraid
Of seeing your face among the crowd
That our memories would never fade
And that you would always be around

But I don’t fear your ghost anymore
Or being cut by your bright blue eyes
Not our photographs all over the floor
Nor that it was nothing but pretty lies

For now that you’re 5000 miles away
I’m scared your shadows leave me too
So my heart will beg for them to stay
As a reminder that I once had you
Gatwiri Karen
Don't stick into my thoughts if you can't see an 'us' someday

And I promise not to be your another temporary ..
and another
and another

no pain left to bear.
As I sit here,
and while you leave,

Painfully unaware.
you were toffee to my teeth
initially tasted so sweet
soon sickly, twisted and knotted
to my soul you
stuck and rotted
Tom Dodd
There be a time
When old St. Peter
Decides your fate
For all eternity

So, ask the Man
To stop the meter
On the all the sins
He be charging thee

Dream blue skies
Of all the seasons
Breathe free the green
The fields of Spring

Live your life
For God’s good reasons
But, teach yourself
To dance and sing!
I’m sorry
That I haven’t been posting
I guess,
My world’s just been a bit too chaotic
For me to get a word in
Even on paper

I guess
That I took an
Faceless nameless
The mirror is my enemy
It shows me things way before I am prepared to accept them
And forces me to stare at a creation I deem inadequate.
Alaska Young
it can either make you fearful or fearless

choose wisely.
i hate the way my name
fits in other people's mouths,
like it's sour;
they stutter and pronounce it wrong.
i like it when it sounds sweet,
sugary and pretty,
like peaches and cream,
like the way you would say 'darling'
to a love.
is that so hard?
this ***** but whatever
Lying on my couch;
Lying to myself.
Claiming I will work;
Knowing I will not.

Hiding from the world;
Leaving friends alone.
Hating what I do,
Letting my life rot.

When will I decide,
To face life again?
When no dish is clean?
When all food is gone?

I wish, that I had,
Motivation, an
All-consuming force,
Inspiring action.

But, alas, just me.
Too lazy to work,
Too tired to sleep,
Just dissatisfied.
bryn renée
Look at you,
You’ve forgotten the solace of your mother’s warmth, the succor of your father’s love form
Look at you,
Begotten by one worthy pair and yet having failed to grant them an ample heir
Look at you,
Failure, you wayward daughter with eyes caught in the confines of dreams
And yet you’ve seen everything there is to see.
I thought

we’ve been    through it all

but you            threw it all



nothing is left
                             now but
my broken pieces
why’d you have to do that to us?

to me?
Masha Yurkevich

If evolution really works,

then why do mothers only have

two hands?

Dealing with us, they need a couple thousand of them. :)
"men du lovede"
Nothing lasts forever,
Forever is a dream.
The present is a gift,
Your past is more than it seems.
Our future isn't promised,
All we have is today.
I'll be the shoulder you lean on
I'll listen to all you say.
What a year what a year
Another day another tear
Nothing seems to be clear
All I know is fear
Fear of what others think of me
Fear of what I will be
Fear of what others see
My heart free of  glee
This is really just a prototype , can't really decide on how i move on from here. might add somethings to it later or delete it completely.
maybe later, when we wake up tomorrow
i'll tell you what i want to say--
maybe another time,
when your eyes find themselves dry
and your feet calloused
from walking barefoot
on sandy beaches too far from home
i'll pipe up--
but i know you hurt so deeply,
and i know your heart has withered,
so maybe
i'll keep this sapling
and plant it,
and maybe one day--
you could find solace in its shade
and think offhandedly
of me
In this quiet -
The night, the lamplight,
I sit, idle;

I do not care -
Enough to live,
Or to die.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see a thousand papers
Filled with broken poetries
And deadbeat proses
Full of woeful verses
With mournful pieces
Of unfinished stories
That are yet to be written
And failed to be spoken;
If you could read my mind,
You’d hear horrible screams
And earsplitting weeps
From shattered dreams,
Kept in a nasty notepad,
Scribbled on a bed
Of bloodstained words,
Ringing in my head.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see the shadows
That lurk within me;
You’d hear the bellows,
Screeching the words
“I’m tired,”
“I’m a failure,”
“I’m ****** –”
I know it sounds ******,
It’s pathetically foolish
And seems too *******.
If you could read my mind,
You’d feel the tears
I had ever failed to cry;
You’d see the people
That make the weak weaker;
You’d see the monsters
That consume my head;
You’d hear the hollers
That failed to be freed;
You’d see the heart
That still bleeds and bleeds.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see the face
I’ve failed to show back then,
The face I’ve faked back then.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see a character
I had ever failed to become
If you could read my mind,
You’d be able to read
A book you never wished
To touch and read,
But sometimes I still wish
Someone could read my mind.
bethany w
sweet sanctuary.

love that warms me
inside out
kind eyes
open palms
an intrinsic
incomprehensible pull
towards you.
towards rest.

I don’t fight it.
why would I want to?
you love me as you find me.
The process said out loud
Why must I be this?

One of the crowd
Not worth a single kiss?

Why must I be this?
The process said to self

To feel what has been dealt
So strongly I could melt

Must I go through this ****?
The process said

As the cards still fell
Stephanie D
I'm so used to being leftovers
that I wonder if there's anything left
May 26th, 2019
the instant, the instance, is that your body?

the clear cleansing storefront windows
ask for clarification.

is that your body, presently?
is that your body presentably?

just in that secular instant, again, over,
the body’s inquisition clarifies, asking,
requesting in a babel of foreign languages,

repeat after me!

each window pane that follows repeats the query,
the themes in each, tiny variations,
the variables of rhythm, timbre, harmony,
engine timing minute minutiae alterations,
in that passing milli-instant,
each a separate instance for each separate pane.

in every instance.   in every language.

the accusations tonality oscillates in wavelength pitch.
quest nonetheless similar,
     is that your body?

all the replies are mirrored reciprocal.
that was my past.
this my present.
the next, a future vision.

the here, the now, all of it, each a flashcard.

the insistence!

when your body falls finally upon
the sidewalks concrete filthy city Persian tapestry,
the shameful answer tastes always the same.

always the same.
Jade Storm
Well, the time has ended
I won't see him for a while
Now what?

Do I text him everyday?
Do I wait for his texts?
What do I do?

I'm so confused what to do now

Now what?
it's an interesting time for me now so just tryna get through it. hope you guys enjoyed!
everything’s always changing

but the gloomy moods so unwavering

seems to be the only consistent staying

so i’m trapped in a concept, playing

my brain feels like a complex painting

splattered upon the canvas with no restraining
Sometimes I need to see the ocean
Taste the salt air and feel the motion
Of the waves and the wind
And the world spinning round
When the chaos is too much
The ocean’s where I’ll be found

If I could take a magic potion
Cast a spell or give devotion
Granted any of the powers
That may possibly be
I would quite ecstatically
Transform to a bird of the sea

loneliness is real
don't doubt it for a moment
it can make you motionless
you can't get out of your own head
everything is frozen in time
time is your enemy
an emptiness you can't fill

But, it can be filled

Wipe your eyes
tomorrow you'll
see the world differently

This is just for those who are seemingly lost in their loneliness.  May you find your way out of it. God Bless
Find hope through God
Michael H
I cry out –
all the bleach and paint:
for you.
I would play games
to save your life
It's true
Ignatius Hosiana
Sad or happy,
some stories
didn't deserve
to end. Ours
was one of
August burned quickly, incipient nostalgia
prematurely vanished, mellow and gentle
sea stone on the tiled table, cedar plank
with fish, sunset through the eye-slit window

thigh high in life and riding wherever life
takes me like a hopeless romantic
shout out to ang for lighting literally every poem of mine up

edit: Daily #2 babyyyyyy
I wore a mask today
Made of ribbons and silk

I painted a smile today
Painted with oil and mineral

I sang a laugh today
Sung all those major notes

I fooled myself
I was happy today.

Wasn't I?
will words
set me
f        e
   r          e
or be the
of me?
Close your eyes and see
An irony it may seem
Even in darkness
There is light
A hope to keep calm
Put the past behind
Make the future bright
Peter Balkus
Her eyes
reflect my moon.
In her eyes
it's always full.
A "clear the air," or radio lockdown burst through the police radio.  An officer down with shots fired call happened several blocks from where I was doing other investigative work on another case.  I spun tires driving as quickly as possible for two blocks until I arrived at the scene of a multiple victim shooting including another detective that I will call "William."

William was a good man and proper detective, but he had made a dangerous enemy that sought revenge against him over an issue.  

I arrived at the crime scene quickly and saw one man immediately shot near the front door area.  I will call him "Sergio," to respect his memory.  Sergio had been shot in the neck and there was arterial blood spurt around him, the walls nearby, and lining the floor.  Sergio was obviously dead.  Another man was nearby and he had a "through and through," gunshot wound to his upper right bicep.  The man looked panicked and he directed me to a back office.

I moved quickly to a back office with gun drawn and I saw thick gunpowder smoke hanging in the air.  I could taste the gunpowder in the air and smelled that distinct smell of recently fired weapons.  I saw a large dead man laying on the floor that was at least 6' 7" tall and weighed in the lower 300-pound range.  We'll call him, "Richard."  I could see that Richard had bullet wounds in his torso, forehead and right eye and he was obviously dead as well.  Richard had brain matter hanging out of his right eye socket in a clump and there is no way to treat a massive brain tearing like that.  

William, the detective, had been quickly hauled to the closest hospital with one torso gunshot and multiple gunshot wounds to his legs and calf areas.  Soon, the higher ranking "brass," started to show up and walk into the scene.  I chased them off by threatening to put their names in the report and make them witnesses, which they hate.  The brass left and gathered outside and they were given periodic reports.

At that time we had a Specialized Homicide Investigative Team, affectionately called the S.H.I.T. team.  I directed the crime scene crew on how the scene should be processed and I removed the identification of the dead man Richard in the still smoky room so that I could find out who he was.  I soon learned that the dead man was the suspect that entered the office and had shot the three people.  After about thirty minutes at the crime scene, I received notice that William had died from his injuries at a local hospital.

The field medical examiner pronounced the two men in the office officially dead and the man with the simple gunshot was taken to the hospital and later interviewed.  I reported to the main office in "Crimes Against Persons," or Homicide, as it is called.

My partner had previously teamed up with me on many homicides.  His name was "Earl," and he is still a very sharp and studious man.  Earl and I obtained a search warrant for the shooter, Richard's, home.  We drove to the home with the intention of searching it for evidence that might be present.  Using Richard's keys we entered his home after knocking.  Earl and I started the search and when we got to a spare bedroom in the house, we were harshly startled.  I opened the door to find a woman on the floor *****.  Surprise.  The woman had been shot in the chest five times and we later found that she was Richard's wife.  Marriage over.

It was apparent that Richard had decided that he was going to go out of this world in a big way.  He went out in an evil way.

After finding the murdered woman I called the Medical Examiner to recover the body for autopsy.  The day after the search, and after a very long night, I went with Earl to the morgue early the next day.  The morgue always smells bad and it has the hue of death about it.  That may sound obvious but you really can't understand the environment of the morgue unless you've been there.  I cannot express it accurately enough in writing.  

The morgue, at that time, was a relatively small room with one stainless steel autopsy table.  The bodies were kept in a small refrigerated room that you would not want your loved one stacked in.  The autopsies started.  They lasted for four bodies over the course of about 10 hours and I can assure you I'll never set through anything like that again.  

William was my friend and I saw William autopsied.  Rough.  Horrible.  

William had many bullet holes in him, especially in his legs.  William had aptly executed a close-quarters shooting posture in which you fall to your back and raise up your legs to "catch," bullets while you fire at your assailant from in between your legs.  He executed the move flawlessly, but as luck would have it one of the bullets got past his legs and hit his chest piercing his left lower lung.

The assailant, Richard, was shot severely and accurately by William.  One of the shots hit Richard's glasses and a plastic lens bigger than his eye socket pushed the lens through the socket and into his brain without breaking the lens.  That's just a side fact, but one that I remember vividly because of its' peculiarity.  

William's legs were shot up and had lots of entries and exits on both.  The doctor was attempting to retrieve a bullet lodged in one of William's bones.  The doctor was cutting away meat to get to the bullet.  After strenuously looking for the bullet for a very long half hour the doctor realized that he had shredded William's leg for nothing since he was looking at the wrong x-ray film.  The bullet sought was in the opposite leg so the doctor tore that leg apart to get the bullet out.  He got it.  It was evidence so it had to come out.  I don't fault that doctor because we were all exhausted by the time we got to William's autopsy.

That's essentially what happened.  There are more circumstances and facts that I won't write here.  But that's how William was murdered.
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