Let your face shine with your smile behind your COVID 19 mask. Swathe your lips by kind words. Look at others with the eye of your heart. Dress yourself with a garment of content. Diffuse your community with the fragrance of compassion. Bake your heart with tenderness. Burn your soul with love. Wear the crown of humanity. Stand tall as a model for rendering services to others.
Sun and wind When I got to you location We greeted As past wasn't screaming Coffee time Small talk How have you been? Your hair is longer And this is were we are Table talk We're old now Not bedroom gossip Table talk How's your parents? And about work? Ignoring the real questions We want to make so badly Because real questions Aren't suitable For adults table talk
there’s the kind of sadness we ignore and try to get rid of it by finding new things to do or we find someone to talk to by blatantly avoiding any type of conversation about feeling sad about having any feelings at all and then there’s that kind of sadness that takes over and it consumes any activity we do we know it’s there and there’s no possible way to avoid it so we feed it exactly what it wants it craves the sad music it craves the isolation it craves the anxiousness and the sadness comes storming in it has no manners here we are calling sadness, an “it” when all it is is a feeling that most people call home
Whether a comma, or colon: Punctuation slows my rolling I need no period. When I end no Capitalization when I begin Rulelessly I flow my art Not a single! Exclamation mark Are you not the one Who'll know? Where a question mark No longer goes
Warp the structure Bend the lines Put in repeat Let emotion unwind Make yourself Your poetry's the best Be your own ruler Pass your own test
Take your own road Where ever it leads Lover or hater It's all poetry!
Traveler Tim .
Hay No matter who you are You have my deepest respect!
Vanity All is vanity The meanings of passion The aesthetic expression The lines we draw and stay within Even love is beyond intent Vanity transcends Flowing from our pens And so we breathe again
To know you never watched A single video of mine Never read A single poem Never followed A single link These are the parts That break my heart Because you don't believe me When I say I see you Because you don't see me
shirtless screaming through the heartland and I used to smoke cigarettes too.
she never wanted to stay: the youth she had left demanded it. now, I'll wager she's somewhere in an apartment with some dandy that wears sweater vests to Thanksgiving dinner.
maybe she thinks about me and my little twisted heart every now and again: like when she's away from the sweater vest on the toilet behind a locked door, "be right out, babe!" or toting groceries through a parking lot to her car, or signaling a left turn before changing her mind and deciding to go straight instead.
and maybe I need to stop thinking about her especially after three years incommunicado
but what can I say? I've never slept on a bed of nails I couldn't dream on.