"Do not worry I will be gentle," said the wolf.

"You mean to tell me, a beast as monstrous as you, is capable of mercy," said the traveler.

"No, not mercy," said the wolf. “Gentleness, there is a difference. I will devour you tenderly.”

what do you want?

He likes me,
He likes me not...
He likes me

White clouds part, the canvas turn dark, inside these thoughts still gleam, seeking out the stars.

Alack!
Taken aback!
It’s a fact, Jack.

Think you’re on track
Then: smack!
It’s a backtrack.

So you go back, Mac
Give yourself some slack
Have a flapjack stack

Carry what you lack
Remove it from the black
And take it back, Zach!

TOMATO CHASE

Now....
Out of season
They're reddish
Uniform in size & shape
Firm
And flavorless

In season
They're RED
All sizes and shapes
Firm, soft, some just right
And flavorful

Yesteryears
They were magic
Like the transformation of a caterpiller
The little yellow flower
Gives way to the tiny green marble
Stalk n stems grow bigger
Marbles grow larger
The green fuzzy rough stems
The scent
That wonderful smell
So unique to the tomato plant
They turn green to red
Some even get incubated on a sunny sill
When it's time
Knife reveals seeds and red splotched juice
And the TASTE
A taste that fades with our age
That TASTE that we chase every summer
Close
But never a ringer

It hurts on the inside
Hiccuping crying
Screaming inside and wanting to outside
Saying things we didn't mean
But you never said sorry
Only me
It hurts like a stab wound left to rot
The scar will stay of what you said
Tears have gone dry
So have my emotions
Left drained and withered
I have nothing to say
Just a hurt on the inside.
An endless pain
That you are not sorry for
Cause you meant everything

Then God looked over all He had made,
and He saw that it was very good!

Then I looked at all the poetry I created
and I saw they are all beautiful!

It's so bad in this place
I have to leave
I want to get to the good place
Heaven on earth
Is where I'm looking for
The key of that place, is goodness
I'm not a good man
But I'm not a bad man either
I try to better my life
And I will go
To the heaven on earth

Ahhh
Mouth open as wide as his tooth gab.
Ahhh
Getting excited as the plane get closer..
Ahhh
He grabs into it and waits for the next..
Mommy I’m full....
quick look away now it’s a bird
Ahhhh
Mouth open once more for the Landing.

I have never felt right,
writing this poem.
They keep saying
that I'm "strong".
I don't feel strong.
I feel...

like ripping off my skin
wouldn't be enough
that breaking my hands
couldn't help

I feel lost.
The lion has left me.

Tame now, in the midst of
The forests limbs, strong bark arms
Brown like a farmers,
All round.

it’s a beautiful thing
this day and age
with bubbling permafrost
with drug-resistance
with obesity treatments
with technological advancements
with scientific discoveries
with silent wars
with blue lava
with bleeding glaciers
with divorce
with sensitivity
with my generation
of people believing
this new generation
is completely and
utterly clueless as a
common occurrence

but let’s think about
what these kids are
into nowadays.

let’s think about who
invented these inane
things for the kids.

my generation of people.

so the kids of today are
the ones who are ******
for liking the things
that we’ve created?

I’m sorry but we have to
be the ones who are obtuse
for believing such things,
oblivious for not
realizing them and
showing the world
we have
little or no imagination
anymore.

the generation before us
has lied to us and
thought us to lie
to the generation
after.

whether it’s the gods
or holidays
or what not.

the youth of the today
are autonomous.
they can not take
responsibility for
their actions nor do
they understand and
just go along
with the trends,
much like,
all the generations
before them
but we need a scapegoat
to cover up our own
farce implementations.

the truth of the matter is..
we’re all a little vacuous
in our own way
especially the ones with
an answer for everything.
living in an imperfect world
where there’s always room
for improvement
nothing for us
or against us
wrapped up in our
congratulatory
self-contradictory
and illogical theories
and as useless as
exploding appendix.

the lost generation
the interbellum generation
the silent generation
the baby boomers
generation x
the millennials

a strong admixture
of imbecility and
self-assurance
filled with belief
and unawareness
to a senseless world

like hate
like blame
like gossip
like jealousy
like being offended
like being impressive
like the punk rock dream
like hospital waiting rooms
like fundraisers and charity events
like your co-worker to the right and
the left of you
and their families
and their families before
them

our greatest creation
our strongest aide

to deconstruct

When I was little
I was scared
Scared of the monsters living under my bed
I used to hide, under my blanket
Under my blanket, I was safe
The monsters couldn’t reach me under my blanket

My parents used to say
The monsters would go away
I would grow up and that then they would leave

But I grew up
And the monsters didn’t leave
Turns out my monsters, grew with me
Now instead of under my bed
The monsters live inside my head

So I hide, under my blanket
Where I think I am safe
Wondering if after all this time
My blanket can still keep the monsters at bay

Утес базальта
Нахальный прыткий бриз
В подоле солод
В песчаных рифах низ  

Раскинуться ветвями
дуба
и лунными ночами
не отлучаться в утро

Рассыпаться грезами
в ладони,
а младенческими звездами -
на ландшафтном пероне

Позабыв о билете
и утренней котлете,
грезить о лете

Пусть в скелете
дерутся идеи
и плавает ветер

А заря заметит,
хлебом приветит,
дрожью обдаст

Валун расколется
с громовым треском
и силы придаст



Он плечист,
а в ключице
мягок и чист

Лес его волос
в зарнице
кудряв и кучист

Блеск его полос
в ресницах
прян и лучист



Небо сгорает
в ночницах,
дремля
под хоровод его песен

Замшелая плесень
прискальных деревьев
ласкает вены
листьев и прутиков-лестниц

Засеять
мечтами
тропу

Присесть
уставшим
на мглу

Травинки
жаждют
жить

Травинки
живут,
чтобы пить

У его мечты
нет следа
Остаться здесь напоследок
и каждую чайку чтить

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.

Lick my lips
Cradle my face
Gaze into my eyes
And tell me I'm safe

Onward we trudge to Miserthorpe.
On blood soaked dreams to lend support.
Knock-kneed, railing, gasping for breath
We march through the marsh toward our death,
But death will not out soul's escort.

The hordes of the undying court
Will shortly rend our lives cut short.
There is no hope; never the less...
Onward we trudge

Oh, if the past I could abort
I would have strived to build rapport
With that young lass from Watercrest.
My dreams of glory reassessed.
Yet time moves on without distort.
Onward we trudge

i dread the day you learn
for the first time that
you can't just love all
the darkness in me away

and no matter how much
you care i will still toss
and turn at night and scars
might still appear on my skin

i dread the day you realize
that you can't cure me
and sometimes all you can do
is stand next to me and
hold my hand through fog
pouring out of my ears so black
and thick we can't even see
each other's faces

i dread the days i can't
get out of bed
the days you want to
take me out and all
i can manage is a prettified
shell of myself

i dread the day you learn
that sometimes no matter
how hard i try i still can't
pull myself together

the day you learn that
there isn't an answer
you can give that will
save me from my fears

you aren't the first person
who has tried to love the
darkness inside away
my family and friends
have given it their all
but someday you too will learn
that if love could
cure mental illness
the world would be
a much better place

Paint me a picture
Of your skin
Does it bronze beneath the sun?
Or sizzle and blush
Like your cheeks
When you’re in love?
Is it soft to the touch
Like when your palms graze
The smooth surface of water?
Or rough around the edges
Like your favorite book
And its lovingly worn corners?
Does it melt in the heat
Like sweet syrupy treats
Dripping through your fingers?
Or does it welcome the winter
With wide open arms
As if greeting a lover?
Paint me a picture
Of your skin

you said I'll be your first and last

and you end up being my forever first,

and I'm never your last.

I know I won't get to all
but ******, I'm gonna try
thumb up to every comment
up until the day I die

I can't react to every line and word
but ****** I can try
thumbs up to ever poet/poetess
maybe no one has, to cry

I'm just a singularity
but ****** all too ****
we, as a community
stand up, and hear the yell

I'm not you, and you're not me
but when you see thumbs down
chime in with words and thumbs
chase the trolls, outta HP town

we do not write poetry
we write mirrors
which are held up
to curious faces
who read
looking for their
own reflections

We all have our doubts.
And we question many things.
Even the love in our lives and various other things.

If I lost it all?
Would you still be by my side?
If I lost it all?

If I suffer an illness?
That might be considered fatal.
Would you still be by my side?

If I should get rich?
And lose it through investments.
Would you still be by my side?
If I lost it all?

Or fade away like so many have done others?
And have no regrets about it.
Like that love never meant a single thing.