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We need more Martians , they nattered at me all the time,
More monsters—people like to be scared,
As if those callow youngsters,
Growing up with two cars in the garage
And three sets at the country club,
Their fraternity mixers at Whittier or Occidental,
Knew the first **** thing about terror.
Still, they wanted me to grind out the harum-scarum hokum
They enjoyed watching two-reelers on Saturday afternoons
While men were doing hard work in Leyte and Manila,
As if the transitory fear of some ghoulish bogeyman
Would last through the thirty-second epics
Featuring some cartoon bear shilling for beer
Or bunnies extolling the virtues of toilet paper.
Let me tell you what fear is, I would say time and again,
It’s a padlocked fence and a smokestack
Which isn’t churning out a **** thing.
It’s the jobs you can’t get because you said something
(And more likely, you didn’t) twenty years ago.
It’s one more envelope from the bank or the phone company
With bold red lettering on the front
That you don’t open because you know what it says
And how it doesn’t matter one bit,
Because you can’t do a ******* thing about it
,
And these promising young men would just look at me
Like I was some poorly made-up extraterrestrial
From one of their Buck ******* Rogers potboilers.

Several of my neighbors here were among the men,
Mostly boys in truth, who marched with the 126th New York,
Taking fire at Petersburg and The Wilderness,
At Spotsylvania and Cold Harbor.
We have spoken about the horrors of war,
The kaleidoscope of confusion and dread,
No direction leading to shelter, no road guiding the way to home.
They have said that, as frightening as the sound of the minie *****,
Zipping overhead like malevolent flies,
And the cannon were, what they found truly awful
Was the manner in which those fields,
So like the ones where they had flushed out quail as children,
Became foreboding nightmare landscapes,
Containing a dark madness
That they never dreamed could have existed.
I have so many musings
my hands they are complaining,
cuz I can't get them all right,
an so quickly jot them down,

An I feel that I'm connected,
to all my friends and my dear neighbors
an all that I can hear is just is that sound!

Of sweet snowflakes as they're falling,
in the silence sweet n pure,
an so softly as I hear them,
touch the ground,

An soon I'll imagine,
oh a winter wonderland,
in a covering in all you see around,

Those lovely floating wisps,
are so intricate-amazing
those parachuting sprites,
here they abound!

If you ever catch one close up,
well you really really oughta,
cuz the labyrinthine in sight
it will astound!

They are happy little ships afloat,
with an octagonal shape,
landing on all  life,
once sorely browned,

Every child and adult,
is now looking up in awe,
as there smiles turning up ,
instead of frowned!

I thought that I was lost,
an I'd never get to see,

but in poetry it seems-
that  I am found!

Ma Cherie © 2017
Happy poetry! Yeah!?  Lol ; ) ❤❤❤ hope you are all well!
Is it worse to forget
Or to be the one forgotten

Should I pity my mother
Because her mother forgot her
Or pity my grandmother
Because she doesn't know her own child

Or should I pity none

Because that is life
That is the way life is

You live, you forget
Nothing is remembered in the end
I've stored myself away in a proverbial zip lock
Stained with nicotine, filtering what little sunlight may shine through
Sequestering any resonating laughter my soul may have once contained
In Tupperware from the late eighties
Filling the cracks in my belief system with nail polish
Trying to heat the icy corridors of my being with a cigarette lighter
And a curling iron
Any beauty I may have once possessed I gave to the gargoyles
Who flew it far out of my current zip locked reach
Holding vibrations of strings from a thousand miles away in holy regard
Salting my unadorned misery for better preservation
So that I may taste it once again
On the tip of my sailors tongue when the thought of a smile crosses me
My greatest current pleasure resides in tiny, fake, resin beings With wings
That will never flap
And I am obsessed with what may, Or may not happen in the tiny fake place
In which they dwell
I have to get out more:)
Itong tulang ito ay para sa mga taong nag mamahal pero pagod na dahil nabigyan sila ng motibo na bumitaw o lumayo

"Mahal kita, pero pagod na ako"

Mahal, naalala mo pa ba kung paano tayo nag simula?
sa kung paano tayo napapangiti sa mga kwentuhan nating dalawa,
sa mga masasaya nating ala-ala,
yung malulungkot nating ala-ala,
yung mga ngiti mo na pati mata mo napapangiti na rin,

Pero naalala mo pa ba ang una kong pag laslas dahil nag selos ako?
nakita mo ba yung mga dugo na tumutulo galing saaking kamay
na tila parang gripo na walang tigil sa pag daloy?
nakita mo ba yung mga luha na tumulo sa aking mga mata
na tila hindi na kayang tumigil,
nakita mo ba sa mga mata ko kung gaano ako nasaktan
nung nakita kang masaya sakaniya, kahit magulo tayo?

Naguguluhan ako, naguguluhan ako dahil sabi mo
mahal mo ako, pero hindi ko ramdam,
hindi ko ramdam yung mga salitang binitawan mo,
hindi ko ramdam yung "I love you" mo,
hindi ko ramdam na mahal mo ako,

Naalala mo pa ba yung mga pangako mo saakin?
yung pangako mo sakin na tayo lang?
yung pangako mo sakin na ako lang?
yung pangako mo na hindi mo ako iiwan?
yung pangako mo sakin na hindi mo kayang mawala ako?
yung mga pangako mo na pinako mo lang,

Alam mo? para kang bubble gum, sa una ka lang matamis,
para kang asukal, matamis nga mabilis naman mawala,
para kang bula, ang bilis **** nawala,
para kang anino, sa liwanag mo lang ako sinusundan,

Mahal, Mahal na mahal kita. Pero.. Pagod na ako.
Paalam na, Mahal. Ayoko sana itong mangyare,
Pero binigyan mo ako ng motibo.
Paalam, Mahal.
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