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 Aug 2018 Pauper of Prose
Bryant
Pretty parasite
Shoulder saddled
Practically practical
Conscience's cozy cubby
Whispering mirthless whimpers
Demanding denial's distraction
Factual frailties

Fragile cadaver; crystalline corpses
Breathless without cause
Atrophy; aghast glaze
Awaiting articulated autopsy
...........................
Coroner's Report
...........................
COD: Acute adverse reaction to a sudden withdrawal of esteem. Causing a welling of the eyes and esophageal swelling.
...........................
A fond farewell to a friend
............................
Carnations circled casket
Comisseration's soft scent
Woeful woft; harvester angels aloft
Hevean's hooks; marionette soul

Silk strands; raised hands
Silk strands; jumping jubilant jig

Endless happy day reruns
Closed captions cheery censorship
Seamless syndicated smiles
Looping luxurious bow
Adorning adorable facade
My mind wants one thing
My heart wants another
And for my eyes, well they lay in the middle seeking to please them both
My mind orders my eyes to close and stay closed
But my heart orders for them to open to see you
When my heart takes over my mind gives in
When my mind takes over my heart gives in
For my heart sees nothing but unconditional love for you
But my mind sees the reality of the fact I cannot take a chance with hurt for now.
My mind will not risk letting you into my life in the fear you will hurt me
And my heart will not stop beating to be closer to you and loving you
As for my eyes, it sits, and watches this race
Heart vs mind who will win…….
i fell for him when my mind wasn't ready to love in fear of having my heart broken but i simply couldn't shake the feeling he gave my heart....my heart won<3
When a published poet dies,
A shooting star falls.
The universe cries
And rainbows hugs waterfalls.

When an old poet dies,
A new poet is born.
Nature lights up a million fireflies,
And a ship gives a tot on its horn.

When a young poet dies,
A Crack appears in a crystal ball.
A Fountain pen dries,
And a sad poem appears on a wall.

When an old poetess dies,
For a while the wind will cease.
Petals will fall from Lillies,
And disappear without a trace.

When a great poetess dies,
Fallen poets observe silence.
The men adorn black bow ties,
And the ladies dress in elegance.

When any poet dies,
The world loses a bright mind.
Shakespeare appears across the skies,
Waving to those of us left behind.

When a poor poet dies,
Nothing at all happens.
The world goes about its duties
He goes on to rest with other legends.


#IvanBrooksPoetry
29/7/2018
A poet dies but he's not done..his words lives on.
Leaning against the wall,
I slid down and sat there on the cold ground.
Quiet on the outside,
but in the inside
I was screaming.
With my Head on the cold dead ground
I pulled my legs in close to my body arms over my head.
I Curled up into a position that a human body merely wasn't made to find comfortable.
I lay still
So many emotions ran through my head.  
To handle these emotions seemed foreign to me,
For I did not know what emotions I was feeling.
Tears streamed down my face while I lay quiet and still.
Frustration of not knowing why I was crying or if this was what it felt like when sadness took over me was driving me insane.
Yet I lay still.
Not one scream
not one change in my face
not one limb flinched.
Weak and tired I cried the tears that my body could still produce.
Until I began to fall asleep
As tiredness and failure took over me
I gave into my mind and laid still as my mind cooled down and celebrated victory with a dream
I have never been able to understand or grasp what fully happens in an anxiety attack but this poem describes the last stages of  one where you give into your mind as everything gets slow and you eventually knock out from the inner war you fought against your mind. Anxiety attack are unknown  to the human mind
There is an island
called Cat-can-du.
And what can I but conclude:
you should heed my advice
and soon take a trip.
The air full of spices,
including catnip!

Cats, cats enchant
with eyes aglow naturally.
But what about cat eyes
that glow magically?
Those orbs are beacons of light
found in the wise, furry faces
of Cat-can-du felines.

As you catapult from one escapade to the next,
these fun-loving critters will lead
you to heights of sight-seeing so grand
with all of their brilliant cat skills.

From volcanic mounts
to far underground,
showing you hidden catacombs,
with eyes as bright
as any high-powered lantern.
Exploring the city's secrets,
side by side seeking out treasures--
it's exactly within their purrview.
To find old and new writings on shadowy walls
recalling hieroglyphics from cat worshiping Egyptians
and stowed-away diamonds, rubies, ancient coins, and scrolls.

A witch's best companion
Black cats have psychic powers,
it's a fact.
But in Cat-can-du exists a breed so rare
that its mythics are mostly all lost.
Perfect telepathy and with crystal clarity, they read
each and every one of your thoughts.

Their fur is so black it is almost blue--
but a very different hue
from the aquamarine waters
lapping at the shore like the cats lap at milk.
Now, it's common knowledge cats don't like water.
But here, oh here, in Cat-can-du
all cats, they swim like otters!

Another kind of magic kitty, has wings
to fly high into the sky, and a mane like a lion,
but in pastels, oh so pretty.
They write songs of daring do like minstrels of old
and will certainly create some of their best
about the adventures you'll share with them!
Now, do you know the name of a creature like that?
Here's a hint:
What if I were to say, it's also a cat with a horn
smack on its forehead?
It's a unicat!

These supernatural furballs
on this island do dwell.
I hope you'll find a way
to get there someday.
But until then, the next best thing
is perhaps just to picture yourself there,
to let your imagination set sail!
That boyish heart rescinds,
Others call it growth,
What of worth has he,
If not the love he's known?

Now here stands the man,
Or that is what's supposed,
Whatever happened to,
His storybook betrothed?

The way we touch no longer lingers,
With butterfly tipped and desperate fingers.
We kiss here on the dotted line,
Rent will pay in full on time.
This is not what he has read of love.
So simple to refuse,
The art of growing up.
Would be nice to be 15 again kissing a love for the first time but alas, life only goes forward. (I usually ****** it up anyways. /shrug)
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