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I've Forgotten

I can't remember now
what was the reason again?
the mind tumbling head over tail
searching for something

aha, the reason
but, the reason for what I ask?
it seems it is not the answers
that are so difficult
but rather the questions

so now that I have the answer
just what is the question?

Questions 67 and 68
does anybody really care?
does anybody care that nobody cares?

It should matter shouldn't it?
Pushed to the edge
pulled to the corner

seek and ye shall find
find what?
How would you know?
I may have known at some point

but right now,
this instance
I've Forgotten

Gomer LePoet ...
What was the question again?
~

Don't you ever stop. Continue eternally.
 Jul 2013 PoetWhoKnowIt
September
solemn day out at sea
when even words
won't talk to me.
you never had to agree.
you never had to agree.
 Jul 2013 PoetWhoKnowIt
Sarina
eden
 Jul 2013 PoetWhoKnowIt
Sarina
Someone should explain to my parents that I have
very good reasons for liking other girls – for example, fields of flowers.
My mother, the gardener, must see the way our long hair
meets and forms an orchard
when I sleep beside a beautiful woman. Translucent
wrists, veins folded into a glasshouse –
if she wants to know how I can hold another girl’s hand, tell her that.
Farthest thing from unnatural, tell my mom
about how she and I build whole habitats when we touch – earth’s
parents, this is our offspring
trailing up everyone’s spine, curling around raspberries
as a toddler would climb onto furniture. Tell my parents that
I am not a lesbian to spite anyone, but
because I loved Mother Nature so much I thought there should be two.
 Jul 2013 PoetWhoKnowIt
Mariah
I slit my wrist to ease the pain,
you look at me, and think I’m insane,
my eyes turn red, bleeding my tears,
and still you try to protect me from my worst fears.
Look at my scars then you will see,
why I can’t seem to go around and fake happy,
yet you tell me you love me, that you’ll forget,
for I’ll soon be gone, and I’ll be your greatest regret.
So let me die, broken and scarred,
I can’t deal with life, it’s getting far too hard,
everything’s gone wrong, it’s not worth trying,
so leave me alone because I feel like I’m dying,
I don’t want you to worry,
because my life is ending in a hurry,
I’ll be fine, and happy you see,
for death is what I wished for and soon it will be.
 Jul 2013 PoetWhoKnowIt
Amber S
I like coffee after morning ***.

After the unconscious caresses, the fleeting whimpers and moans, the stickiness that lingers between my thighs, the muddle of tangles that nests in my hair,

coffee always tastes the best.
Standing fifty years high
I wonder if  we need clip on light meters
to  resurrect non cds slrs.
Of course I would want an auto
diaphragm and thirty six exposure counter.
Against this I would really like you to have a beehive
and to successfully  do the twist
with a full debutantes figure.
What is more see Man city go down again
like fifty years ago
just  after the Beatles
wanting to be loved
showed their mettle
by doing away with our Pete Best.
my thoughts
often bring me discomfort;
untamed impulses with picket signs
marching and heckling
at the guardians of my comfort zone;
lyrical demigods hurling  verbal spears
into protective shields of conformity,
sparing no means necessary
to crush the mould,
and shatter the paradigm of paralysis
rooted in fear,
the fabled sphere of thespians that didn't...

heed the beat of spontaneity,
the clashing cymbals of discomfort
and dance to deviant drums
like ginsberg and ferlinghetti
and kerouac and wakoski...

disaffected thespians that did

~ P
(7/13/2013)
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