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Poppy Propper Sep 2014
Silly girl, don't cry alone.
Comfort is the soft murmur,
the gentle backrub,
and the cuddling
on a lumpy couch.

Silly girl, you cried alone
all those times
when you didn't have to.
Warm embrace, skin
pressed to yours,
holding you close,
the tears drip onto
covered shoulder
cold tiles a memory

Silly girl, fill yourself with happiness
after you let it all out,
instead of the chilly air
you **** up with desperation,
when you cry alone.
©Poppy P.
Poppy Propper Aug 2014
As you write you are hundreds.
Become the thief, murderer, and sacrificed.
You stand at the crossroads,
leading the sheep
and angry bulls.

Feel for the nemesis,
Feel for the grandfather --
their fluttering leaves of childhood worries.
You must feel from the heart for the sad.

"Help Us"
"**** Them"
You stand with one foot on each side
of that line drawn in the sand
with chalk.

Write, because in the pages
a rose is a poison, a city is a flower,
and the truth can leak from the pages,
and the fingers of the reader will absorb
and carry the truths to the heart.

Poppy P.
  Jul 2014 Poppy Propper
As they swirled above the clouds
Twisting in and out of existence
Heart fluttered, such as the wings of
Butterflies in my belly

The girl in the tree
Witnessed not what I did
As she called out my name
Voice of reason, guide me

Look, up here!

And the ladder I climbed to sanctuary
Was of oak and sap
Sticky with unknowing
And her hand touched mine
But her face was unseen

The dragons
Above, with jade scale and ivory claw
Swirled in the dance of
My eternal struggle
For knowledge

Captured, but not owned
Are these visions

The clouds darkened as my hand slipped
And I fell backwards
Seeing her dark hair
But her face was
Not there

And the wind picked up the new rain
Fresh, like the blood of dragons
In an epic twist of death
And poured it into my eyes

And though I slept soundly
Silence was always there
I am going to begin writing my dreams as poems. Perhaps this will give me a better understanding of how my mind travels through the winding streets of uncertainty.
Poppy Propper Jul 2014
Everybody died today,
metamorphosis - never completed.
Maturity entrapped the folks,
even the children, teeny, tiny babes,
The stars never danced in their eyes;
the sky wouldn't allow Starry Nights.
I only ever told stories, those Wisdoms
passed on from my grandpap,
dissed in the corners of the streets,
I look up for my internal stars
and wish these people would combust
and finally clear the air
so my grandpap could breathe.

he only wanted to be heard

  Jul 2014 Poppy Propper

And the skies find blue

On this morning in the city

With the temperature so warm

As I stand to find the meaning

Over asphalt centered lanes

With the street lights set on twinkle

When a billboard reaches out

With a message for the masses

Still my every thought is you

And I dream

~Chosen by my eyes to see the wonders love is bringing

Floating in my mind like endless butterflies a’ winging

Melodies of love as every meadowlark is singing

And I dream…oh I dream~

People rushing by

At an endless rate of hurry

With their boot straps in a bind

You can see their frowning faces

That new watch upon their arms

Flashing minutes changing hours

Till the meetings that they meet

And the notes they will be taking

Still my every thought is you

And I dream

~My heart it skips a beat within the rhythm of your smile

Sea shells on a beach now dance in ocean waving style

Meadows filled with green where we may lay a little while

And I dream…oh I dream~

Traffic jams ensue

Waving fists and shouting plenty

Driving slower than a snail

Move along we’re in a hurry

But the radio does play

I ignore the mass confusion

For the song that I now hear

Is the one you like to dance to

For my every thought is you

And I dream

~Cotton candy clouds project the colors of the evening

In and out of life with all the happiness now weaving

I am coming home, your open arms so soon receiving

*And I dream…oh I dream~
the flesh covers the bone
and they put a mind
in there and
sometimes a soul,
and the women break
vases against the walls
and the men drink too
and nobody finds the
but keep
crawling in and out
of beds.
flesh covers
the bone and the
flesh searches
for more than

there's no chance
at all:
we are all trapped
by a singular

nobody ever finds
the one.

the city dumps fill
the junkyards fill
the madhouses fill
the hospitals fill
the graveyards fill

nothing else
Poppy Propper Jun 2014
I think "we are the hands of God"
but look to see ungodly people
ignore the signs for acts of Grace.

I think they think "why help these people
who do not help themselves?"
and I speak not the will of Jesus,
But of economy and inability,

"guide the lost and care
for the helpless."

They question God's presence,
scoff "some Master Plan"

but you cannot blame God
when our people are starving,
for he has provided us with plenty
if we would only split it together.

Each unanswered trial
is a lesson for someone,
an opportunity to reach out
and correct others, teach others.

I look around and think
"He must have great faith in us,
to hear us use His name in vain,
and still trust us to help
the children in this world walk."

I look and do not ask
for a kneeling prayer,
but for God's hands
to be used united in peace.

edited 7/29/14
P. Propper
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