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 Feb 2017 LB Parker
MARK RIORDAN
WHATS IN A NAME

IS IT  PRIME MINISTER TRUMBLE
OR PRESIDENT OF AUSTRALIA
THE WHITE HOUSE IN AMERICA
REALLY HAS ALOT OF PARAPHERNALIA

WE ARE THE BEST FRIEND
THAT PRESIDENT TRUMP WILL KNOW
WHILE TACKLING THE WORLDS ISSUES
TOGETHER GIVING IT A GO

YOU MUST ASK YOURSELF
REALLY WHATS IN A NAME
IF AMERICA GETS IT WRONG
IS THERE REALLY ANY SHAME

I AM THE POETIC AVENGER THE
VOICE OF THE PEOPLE IN VERSE
PLEASE CHECK OUT MY FACEBOOKPAGE
MARK RIORDAN POETIC AVENGER

I HOPE I CAN PARTICIPATE IN THIE SITE
TKS FOR THE OPPORTUNITY
THIS IS PART OF MY NEW BOOK " THE TRUMP CHRONICLES"
 Feb 2017 LB Parker
Bridget Ewing
the acid green numbersof the digital clock surge
flickering indefinitely against their black-board canvas
Symbols in a constant flow of rotation, here where our circadian rhythm dances, 
stepping forward gently into the grace of each hour
You taught me to move my feet,
I passively glide to her lead
as she guides my hand
tilts up my chin with the night of her finger tips
into the sea of the sky my moss marble eyes sink
clinging to the vast, black, uncertainty of it all
a weight off my shoulders,
now chained to my ankles
no better than a corpse, within the hold of gravity’s grasp
flooded airways
who had just met an unknowing last breath
which had escaped silently into the innocence of reflective bubbles.
And if still waters run deep,
is it wrong to tread them blindly? Shattered as the seashells scattered across the frantic ocean floor
is the state of the sanctuary
that I used to know as my mind.
Cement side walks still cracking in encounter with life’s forces
sentenced by it’s own inflexibility. 
But with the willows i’ll bend, 
swaying silently with the sureness of the traveling breeze
 Feb 2017 LB Parker
Dead Account
Darkness consumes the room;
time is running out, the end is coming soon.

The moon grins wickedly,
waiting silently for the story to unfold.

Alone she stood in the corner,
eyes closed, but face plastered with horror
feeling the presence of the man who dared enter the house,
the house that blinded her soul.

The intruder observed her cautiously,
as she whispered ominously,
"It's coming, it's coming."

Turn back, warned a voice in the man's head,
but he stood there frozen like ice instead.

Suddenly, her pupilless eyes snapped open wide
as the wails from inside
escaped her mouth and shook the world.

Overwhelming malicious power surge through her
while her black-and-white vision began to blur.

Her hands clamped onto her head
as she collided with the ground.

With that, the man held his heart as she fell,
his lifeless body helping increase the pile of other dead souls.

"Hear the screams of death!" the female spirit proclaimed,
with a voice the sound of broken glass.

Then the banshee went to rest until the time came again.
This was an old assignment early in the school year. I rediscovered it and decided to share it with you (though I found an embarrassing error).
 Feb 2017 LB Parker
storm siren
I can't see past
The Ocean Blue,
And I can't seem
To see past
You.

I'm stuck here,
In this trap inside my head,
That tells me I'm nothing
Not good enough.

I can't remember who I was,
Who I used to be
Anytime between late 2011
And early 2016.

I'm still building myself back
From being a shell
Of something less.
But hopefully
I won't always be
Such a mess.

It won't take long
But I need to find who I am
Who I was
Again.
There's a ghost in my house
More like a polterge/ist.
I've     never      seen it myself
But I know it's there.
I can feel it's e)nergy          lingering,
When I come back there's stuff
                     Just laying around.
  Stuff that I just put awa¥y.
Stuff that is^n't even mine.

There's a polterge\ist in this       house
I saw IT once or tw;ice.
There's more than one
They're ¿friendly enough.
Still, they intrude on my life
But I    can't get r¡id of them.
I just want ever@ything back to normal.
So I left.

There are poltergeists in that house
Just d0own the r:oad from the bus stop.
They all live happily together
With a# woman
Whose children have all grown.
Except one, the daughter
                          She lingers in     limbo
Waiting for her home.


Maybe
             she was the
                  poltergeist
                                  ­      All

     ¿¡ %'£     '÷×£-,!!;$@)
                                                  ­      along?
 Feb 2017 LB Parker
Eliza Lindsey
It's just so hard to ignore you
Just so hard to not look at you
I don't know what it is about you
That makes me feel like I do
No matter what they say
I can't think of you that way...

But It's hard to say hey
Or just smile and simply wave
I don't know why I feel this way
And when you smiled today
Oh how it takes my breath away...
 Feb 2017 LB Parker
Eliza Lindsey
Roses are red,
violets are blue
monkeys like you
belong in a zoo
but don't be afraid
I'll be there too
not in a cage
but laughing at you
Im only joking
im just bored
I just wanted to
say hello to you
So enjoy this poem
that I made for you
Hope it makes you smile
and helps you enjoy your day
i was once a piece
of beautiful paper,
cut into a heart-shape,
colored with red and
neatly placed at the left
side of my chest.

and then you came
with your heart on fire,
i am enchanted by your warmth
that i let you embrace me.
but i never thought that your fire,
would burn me down.

i was once a piece
of beautiful paper.
but now,
i am no more than
a piece of small gray particles,
ashes,
forgotten ashes
scattered by the wind

never to be found

©IGMS
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