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Richard Shepherd
Grant me the knowledge
to know what I write
is palpable
and not contrite.
Bless my brain
with rationale.
Expunge any trauma
from the birth canal.
Allow this poet
a little slack.
Permit me to write
and never look back.

Megan Sherman
I entertain the whims of fancy
To gray Reason - antidote
Aloft on tides of Imagination
In modernity - remote

I dare to dwell in dream, romance
On which my Heart - inebriate
I chase perennial spirit of Passion
In which purest Love gestate
Dead Rose One

No, He said.

I want you

I want to taste the miracle of your desperation,
lick the sweet sweat of tense from the hairline well hid
on the back of your pleasuring neck.

I need your needing constant completion,
but not succeeding.

The airborne aroma of your desires are fiery, arousing,
stimulus sensating me by the unending beauty of dissatisfaction,
this virus desirous, infection, makes my perpetual wanting  
for an incomplete perfect woman,
forever seeking betterment,
perfectly complete.

11-15-17 11:51pm
mixed up emotions re this one; who is the striver, who is selfless   and/or selfish;  can be understood in many different ways
I went out to find
Some value in me,
So I sold what I had
For little a fee.

My eyes for a penny
I sold to some fools,
They're blind and useless,
Mistook for jewels.

My lips for a nickel
To the sweetest sin,
So they'll know the love
That has never been.

My ears for a dime
I sold to a lover.
To hear sweet nothings,
And silence uncover.

My hands for a quarter
I sold to a ghost,
So that she might feel
What I've wanted the most.

Finally my bones for a dollar
I sold to the earth,
But as for my soul-
There was found no worth.
I've done enough burning bridges
And being burned
And in all these stories
I've never found a heros glory
Or a dragon to slay
Only a bunch of words
That couldn't make the endings change.

Getting older is getting lonelier
As people fall away and fewer stay
There are too many wrongs
For there to be a right
And even when it will all be okay
When it stops and I look around
The scenery will have changed.
I'm not afraid
But I will miss some of the things lost along the way.
Nat Lipstadt
(Ain’t “They” Great!)

Now watching 13 year old grandkid live-on-streaming-Internet,
playing Little League baseball in California, pleasantly surprised,

No, not by the amazing technology, or his super great play,
but the laugh-out-loud accommodation to the “au courant”

Game announcer, a soulless robot machine, stupid-smart, without exception, employs THEY pronoun for all, which after 10 seconds thot,

of serious reflection is a brilliant deflection, a solutionary salutation!
We come to see kids play ball, care not a whiff (double entendre),

re identity politicized insanity, machine makes everyone truly equal,
robbing stupids of a phony, proclamation of self-righteous “individuality”

God Bless No-Brainers!
Ain’t They Great!


Introducing a newly Recomposed Natty:

still an OWG
(old white guy)
but now a Proudly, a gaily machine-made, in the USA

Kyle Janisch
Looking in the past

Can remind you of the best times;

You've had;


The worst
im not wanted here anyway.
David Lessard
I used to read your poems
but lately you don't write
you're silent and aloof
you know that isn't right.
You can't close a door once opened
you can't abolish all your dreams
you're a poet of the heart
mustn't fall apart at the seams.
Say what you can in words
they speak the message true
spoken from the heart
the poems will see you through.
A hermit's not your style
a recluse, you are not
never give up writing
of things that you've been taught.
I used to read your poems
I'd read them once again
if you would send them out
(this one's from a poet friend)
Hussein Dekmak
Plant a tree,
Water a flower,
Preserve nature.
Have a purpose!

Feed a bird,
Cuddle a pet,
Be humane to animals.
Have a purpose!

Save a life,
Nurture an orphan,
Stand up with the oppressed.
Have a purpose!

Count your blessings,
Recite your prayers,
Contemplate the universe.
Have a purpose!

Nurture your mind with ideas,
Fill your heart with the wine of love,
Dress your soul with the garment of kindness.
Have a purpose!

Hussein Dekmak
Joel M Frye
To my friends
who can write
bouquets of words
with splendid color,
I offer my envy.
Mine are the blunt, stunted words,
rooted in the cracks
in pavement,
or forcing their way
to light around
overbearing rocks.
Some useful
in their own way,
edible or flavorful,
some with a
pedestrian beauty,
but few that one
would bring home in a bunch
with a box of candy.
More appropriate
in a grimy, young fist
crumpled in love,
destined to be vased
in a water glass
by a doting mother,
or shredded petal by petal
for the sake of soothsaying...
he loves me, he loves me not.
The beauty of your words takes my breath away some days.  Thank you.
Nelida Evelisse
Why do I feel numb
Watching the world
Listless in sight
Because I only see it in black and white

Colors are washed out of my eyes
And every light in me has died
All I see are smiles as frowns
Because I only see them upside down

Love songs don’t have any meaning
For a person who is trapped in their mind
Love can attempt to come my way
And I will just glance and walk away

Storm clouds cries and fills the ocean
But my salty tears competes with emotion
Filling the ocean ten times till tomorrow
That the ocean will be overwhelmed with sorrow

In the end,
I try a superficial smile
And try to fool myself for awhile
But as much as I try
There is nothing left inside
Because everything in me
Can’t seem to come alive
For those who suffer from mental illness, I hear you and I know.  There is help and above all hope.  You are strong, keep fighting, you are worth it.
Heard every excuse in the book
When I let go I leave the door ajar but never expect anything or anyone
I just don't expect
I accept
Easier to say than learn
So much for listening.
Hugging or putting a band-aid on what hurts
Sometimes you can't fix it
Sometimes you can be too good so you need to be better than that and stay clear until you know you are needed and wanted

She does not ask me
May I be there
She does not ask me
If I want her
She does not ask me
In the right time
She does not ask me about the day
She is just there
The fear
fray narte
She was an art,
but she wasn't the type
you'd find in museums
or the type that would
make you feel profound things
in your chest.

She was an art
tucked in hidden pockets
of a faded yellow dress.
She was an art,

slowly sketching herself
out of existence.
Next time,
I wait at your car.
Next time,
I keep your chain as a trophy.
you say my writing is
but you forget that you’re
the one
inspiring it
She sang a song
of ice and snow
and dreamed of oceans
swaying slow
She swam through clouds
and flew near stars
Fell so proud
and dove so far

She was a sad harmony
A song she unsung
A silence unheard
A deed undone

She hummed a tune
of fish and birds
and bore with devotion
The beasts she herds
She swam through life
and flew from death
Fell from strife
and dove bereft

She was a sweet melody
A smile she unsmiled
A violence in violet
My hope she defiled

She sang a song
that twists the mind
and played my emotions
Leaving me blind
I swam near folly
and flew through sin
I fell in love
and dove right in
because of you
when feel defeat  
i now bleed black ink
to hello poetry:
thank you for giving me an outlet. a place where I can speak freely when i am at my lowest, in the darkest place i can reach. thank you for giving me a place to i can put the thoughts that i cant comprehend in my head, and making me realize I'm not alone. i cannot thank you enough!
Ariana Bagley
I love him
I tell myself
I know that
We will be together forever
I don’t believe that
We could be separated
My thoughts tell me that
He’s the love of my life
Sometimes my heart lies and says
I could live an eternity
Without him
Like my friends say
“We’re perfect for each other”
And you can’t tell me
He’s not the one.

Now read from bottom to top.
The angels' harps play a sacred tune,
while planets dance around the moon;
In subtle strains our spirits rise,
and leave us grateful and starry-eyed.

Recalling life as it once seemed,
this vision floated inside a dream;
In many days of endless chants,
the angels' harps cause us to dance.

When voices touch each other's hearts,
there's always a sign creating sparks;
And with that strong secure emotion,
then lives connect with pure devotion.

No longer chilled in fears of life,
all folks fly far away from strife;
The added wealth of kinship stands,
as children sing while holding hands.
Damien Ko
so you're an e-girl
havin fun online girl
patreon subscribe girl
premium snapchat girl
I'm that white knight
asking you for nudes type
saying I'll treat you right
crying about Chad type
I'm the niiiiiice guy
i love a little degeneracy
The poet lives two lives.
One on the outside,
And one in their mind.

When you look in their eyes
You could see an abyss.

If you looked long enough
You could sink into it.

But most people don’t see it.

Take the time to read the words, though,
And you would know for sure.

The poet lives in two different worlds.
A little escape from the madness.
Or maybe, into.
"What colour is my heart?" she sings,
And as her voice soaks into me,
I feel you slink and coil yourself around my heart.
At first it felt like you were meant to be there,
But the longer her set goes on
The harder you squeeze.
"What colour is my heart?" she sings.
I know the answer.
My heart is black and blue,
Thanks to you.
-I can't listen to jazz anymore.
you can’t right the same poem twice

hell, yes I can
in pointy fact,
only got one,
which gets re-righted
morning noon and evening-tide

substitute a variant spelling
wright vs write vs right
and the meaning changes thrice

the only thing i can’t not duplicate is those **** love poems
each unique and writ for the woman specific,
each love one, custom jiggered,
each poem, crafted, to her pulse
each poem, drafted, to her scent
none alike, and that’s why I believe
in the god who commanded "create her"
to make love poems in his way,
gave me millions of veins, an extra ribbing,
of inspiration to pray to...
my heart altered, modified, daily

**** poems
**** love poems
**** love
2/2/2018   10:14pm
Sometimes i wonder do you
Remember me like i remember you.
your name is
forbidden in
my mouth
or in my heart
because when
i think about

i'll cry a little more,
hurt a little stronger
love a little softer
because you no longer
make me feel sober

i'm drunk on the
memory of you
if only i could chase you with pizza but shots don't work like that
so gently
you pulled the
threads loose,
set me free

but the relief lasted
barely a moment -
you tied me to
you, chained me,
and even after
you decided
you didn't want me

you left me
with the shackles
and the bruises
and the empty bed
and the sheets
that still smell
like you.
please dont kick down the door
my bloods still all over the floor
its red and pink
i cut my hair, its in the sink

please leave me alone
pain in love is all ive known
let me cry
but dont let me die

i miss you and love everything you do
but you cant see me now, im just so scared of you
We chased a feeling
not a reality

We both wanted someone
So desperately
that we found each other

Even though no part of

Our pieces didn’t fit together
so we pressed and jammed them
until they were stuck
and stayed that way
we broke

-red flags
c a r o l i n e
never meant to bring rain clouds
or sort out your colours
never meant to cut you out
and throw all those dishes
debri on the floor
never meant to slam the door
but you can’t admit the truth
wasting tissues on you
that’s the issue of being used
wish i knew what i know now
Edmund black
the happy hearts,
the broken hearts,
the sparkling hearts,
the hurting hearts,
the tearful hearts,
the lost hearts,
The confusing hearts
the beating hearts,
the silent hearts,
the tearful hearts,
The sad hearts,
the blessed hearts,
the blooming hearts,
the childlike hearts,
the old soul hearts,
the dreamy hearts,
the beautiful hearts,
The poetic hearts,
No matter the journey
Through thick and thin
as long as we are together,
we are not alone
The game is never over
Rise with grace
And win the race ❤️
Chris Balase
I only have 5 minutes
To spare this poetry
Here it goes:

I do not wish to be seen
Said the old man in me
So leave me alone
Cause I don't want to be

For I've been running away
This is what I hate
And I envy everyone else
Who are not in the same fate.

What have I become?
Where will I go?
The questions are left unanswered
And I've searched high and low.

To be strong once more
In my world full of doubt
To be strong while I lose
In my latest bout.

I wish I had more time
Just like before
I only have 5 minutes
And I wish I had more.
She said "I'm falling in love."

I said "I'm falling apart."
What's the difference?
I went to the love of my life's wedding today

I listened to her say the words that i would never be able to say,
he was the object of the love that i craved.
she looked at him with the same affectionate eyes that i gazed,
he was the one hearing: "for the rest of my days".

i went to the love of my life's wedding today
Luca C
Thats the thing about poetry,
you think im talking about a
broken heart,
when really,
Im talking about a broken
Words can hide things
Eshwara Prasad
Walk lovingly into the crevices of your unpleasant memories so that the bitterness of the past might be replaced with the sweetness of the present.
I held out a hand.

"Would you allow me the honour of
accompanying you on a country walk?"

Jessica lived a few houses down the street from my home.
She moved there with her mum and dad,
maybe four years prior. We had never spoken before.

She was a diminutive figure with a sad but pretty, freckled face.
Her long red hair was pulled back tight into a ponytail
which accentuated Jessica's striking features.
And yet she seemed to have no friends and rarely,
if ever, held her head aloft to say hello in passing.

I, too, was an outsider, a timid, shy boy.
With no inclination to fall in line and become
just another kid from the estate.

Pausing mid-stride, head bowed above the cracked,
damaged paving stones,
her arm motioned towards mine.
My heart was racing.
A mixture of fear and excitement.

"I'd like that very much" she softly whispered.

We joined hands and made our way to the entrance of
a small unmade road which led to green fields and
woodland beyond.

"My name is Richard, and..."

Jessica cut in;

"I know who you are, Richard. I was hoping one day to do this."

Smiling, we cast bashful glances.

Soon enough, this unlikely pair were chatting and laughing,
like we had always been pals.
Jessica even initiated a half-skip of a walk ,
while swinging our arms back and forth.

We picked buttercups that day,
made daisy chains,
placing them around each other's wrists.
Wildlife was out in full force.
Squirrels, sheep with their young,
birds singing sweet, tuneful songs...

All at once, the two children,
so ill at ease with the world for so
long, were set free.

"Hey Richard!" my new companion shouted.
"Let's pretend we're rabbits!"

I duly obliged.

Dropping to our knees, smiling and giggling,
we became rabbits indeed,
bouncing about,
pretending to dig for carrots,
running from an angry farmer with his gun.

Until it was time for us to return to our homes for tea,

"Bye-bye Jessica, I've had ever so much fun.
Thank you for a wonderful afternoon."

Dropping her sweet face to one side,
smiling broadly, she leaned forward and
placed a gentle kiss on my cheek.

I blushed.

After walking home and saying our goodbyes,
the evening drew in.
Sweet dreams of a special day filled the sleep-time hours.

I awoke to hear my parents in deep discussion.
From what I could make out,
there had been a fire on the estate during the night.
A family had perished.

I made my way downstairs.

"Richard" Father looked anxious.
"It was Jessica's house. You knew her, right?"

I couldn't speak.

I knew her.

We picked buttercups.
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