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 Aug 2023 Hello Daisies
Rainswood
I’m avoiding the root
Digging around the problem.
It’s deep
Pulling sprouts of new issues
As they crop up
Putting on a pretty face
In sadness
 Aug 2023 Hello Daisies
Rainswood
What’s your damage?
She asked of me
Tilting her head to the side
And Squinting
inquisitively
I picked at my chipping nail polish
And stared down at my boots.
Hugging my knees into my chest,
I Held onto myself tightly
The fire in my belly
sizzled up my welling tears
And flipped my sadness into rage
As I Flew around the room
Like a trapped bird
Hurling obscenities
And upturning chairs
Just For Sitting there, looking stupid. Empty.
 Aug 2023 Hello Daisies
emnabee
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.
 Aug 2023 Hello Daisies
Traveler
MY DEAR POETESS


Before the Night
Placed the moon in your hair
The Sun it shined your beauty
Everywhere!
Into my words
Dividing the seas
Drawn by Nature's
Heart felt need's
The gift of Poetry
Set my soul free
..............

P.S. Come be with me....
Traveler Tim
You're not lost, just because you didn't comb today
I see you here, yet your thoughts are drifting away ...
You rake the leaves, with your bare hands,
You try to see, where your future stands.

You're not lost,  just because you need a break,
I see you smile, while trying to hide your heartache
You collect the dirt, under your fingernails,
As you walk barefoot and cover your trails.

I still see you, underneath the falling leaves,
I hear your voice say "thank you"  and "please"
I see your true smile, glowing in your eyes,
You're the only reason, my soul survives.
sunrise on the river
a million stars
2 fishing poles
and my brother
molly
the waitress
at Town diner

wants to be a model
or a nun,
tells me she's a poet

we're sitting on
a couch in her apartment.
molly takes a poem from
a foot high stack
on the end table,
hands me a poem,
"FIRST BRA," by Molly C.
it's about buying
her first bra at 12.
"i was big.
i needed a bra at 11,"
she smiles.

now
she doesn't wear bras.

she tells me
rod mckuen
is the most read
poet
in America.

"what about walt,
plath,
hughes?" i asked.

"no
no,"
she says,
"mckuen is the MOST
popular poet
in American history,
no,
really
the greatest American poet."

molly loves rod mckuen.

i love molly.

"if the public loves
rod mckuen,"
i tell her,
you've got a shot.
you could be the  female version
of rod mckuen."

molly smiles
takes me by the hand
and leads
me up the stairs
to the loft.

she takes the ribbon
from her hair.

i lay her down
on the bed

and bang the hell
out of
the next
most read
American poet
I carry her with me
a silver sun
Her shade cool
like praise
for pretty girls

Mad and
hair full of venom
she leaves their
mouths agape
flesh to stone  

she is awe-ful
the curse of hideous
she fears nothing
but the forgotten
empty of the black void...
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