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silence of  intellect
is  far more dangerous than
terrorists' violence
Hopscotch

Girlfriends running, twirling, too.
Taking turns out in the sun.
Skip and hop across the board.
Leap over the marked one.


Twister.

Red right foot,
Bodies blend.
Green left hand
Twist and bend
Blue left foot,
Over extend.
Yellow right hand
In a body pile, again.


Chess

Pawns in play,
Knights abound.
King in check,
Queens around.
Pieces falling one by one
Check and Mate is the sound.


Tag

Tag! You're It.
Running wild.
Laughing, screaming,
Swift little child.


Jumprope

Rope atwirling overhead.
Jump when its under.
Singsong chanting
Sounds like thunder.


Checkers

Red men, Black men.
Jump on a diagonal.
King me, king me
Gonna jump a handful


Kick the Can

Running down the street.
Kicking that can.
Swarm of kiddies
Chasing past the man.
Hopscotch. Twister. Chess. Tag.
Checkers. Kick the Can. Jumprope.
If only this was a perfect world
Where all could be set free
Where words were expressed
And read with love and devotion

If only there was never feuds
Where friends fell out at times
Where friendship was created
And it always reigned true

If only people could be equal
And forgive any injustice
So everyone could fit in
Instead of competing to win

If only poetry was that simple
To touch everyone in so many ways
That we could understand the true meaning
Where so many poems mean so many things

If only I could find the solution
To help make everyone find happiness
Where we love the friendship we have
Because then, I would find happiness too
copyright Chris Smith 2011
My demons come when I am weak
wounded lion spirit
hyenas scratching at my bloodied sides
fingers pushing at cracked glass soul
corpse of decayed love whisper vile insanities
once kind life voices mewling crowing
over fresh ****** wounds to new for rotten
push your grey fingers in through my split skin
fish hook tenderness as you disport in my misery
defiled by the profanity of soiled joy
black shapes flap and rattle at the thin glass
break through with the shards and pierce my soul
my heart is frozen by your lapping rising tide of eversore caresses
too late to cry for help if death comes to me in a demon's red eye
it will find a fallen spirit of light burnt by close flame falsehood
and regrets barren embraces
held in the grip of the twisted gone
it  is the crack-scabbed tomorrow that mocks my today
wounds cry tears of knife edge expectancy
arms shrink at cutting-shrine memories
God cannot stand against you but vomitting can play his role
4004  6015 numbers list your mocking horde
to late for redeemers blades
reject and defile the war cry of the un-dead
choosers of the slain cross skies of dead hope stars
No dandelion seed would stoop to carry my soul
too twisted for heaven's soil
rotted leaf shrine heat of decay warmth
no hell for demons to dwell carried within heart-carcass vessel
sail through eternities baying grief this reward
cherish fear and pain marks the hours of still alive
window of thin despair ready to crash but striving still
gossamer molecule threads still cleave to me
fight against 1916 cloying of death-sweet expectancy
shell hole camaraderie with last summers corpse gas kisses
twenty-eight pills later summer needs to come soon
at four degrees I can be water ice or gas can I be alive
 Feb 2011 Nina McNally
Larry B
She stumbles through the graveyard
And sits beside his stone
An empty soul broken and lost
A million miles alone

She comes by every single night
Just to sit and pass the day
She just can't stand being apart
For her lover passed away

She doesn't bring him flowers
She just sits alone and cries
You can hear her weeping late at night
Beneath the moonlit skies

He stumbles through the graveyard
And sits beside her stone
He just can't stand being apart
The only love he'd ever known

Buried apart, they walk each night
To sit by the others side
It's been that way for twenty-five years
Since the night when they both died
Stop crying my sweet
You burnt the dinner
And it has got you down
Come here for a hug
Listen to what I say

Hello Beautiful

Don't you worry now
That dress suits you well
Never mind about others
Of what they might think
Because in my eyes I say

Hello Beautiful

From that very first day
I still feel the same way
Every moment I see you
Every day I am with you
Every time we make love

I say...

Hello beautiful
copyright Chris Smith 2011
 Feb 2011 Nina McNally
JJ Hutton
The light quit working in the jukebox,
the melodies' surrender,
a commonplace extinction,
against the salt and the breeze
of your false Mediterranean.

The burden of your rational soul
in a world of extremes
has torn your spirit to tatters-
tatters littered across
your Toronto abode.
Divided amongst the heirlooms
and emptied bottles.
This desolation you
sought to translate
for the harmonious pulse
of the dial tone.

Hazy,
is this ancient mind,
a smoking fallout of
yesterday's parties
to be discussed over
lukewarm coffee
and cigarette butts,
while the shivering streams
and green plains become
commodified for a higher power.

Dan, my dearest friend,
I loved you
ferocious and freely,
fanged and supremely,
and as your mind coagulated
on a couch,
microphone in-hand,
I felt nostalgic for
your clumsy alcoholism,
and clumsier guitar strumming.

The white fog descends,
the city is hungry--
no longer can it expand.
Toronto eats itself
with you inside,
shall I write you a postcard?
Shall I kick down your door?
Shall I let you join the bones
you so beautifully alluded to?

Whisper, my friend,
amidst the soft croon of
the saxophone,
whisper, my friend,
of a Europe gone defective,
whisper, my friend,
for an apocalypse of sun
to release us all from
the white fog slowly burying
our Toronto.
© 2011 by J.J. Hutton
so                                                                                                                       into
this flaking night           we   went                pl
                                                                                             u
                                                                                                          
                                                                                                      n
                                                                                                         g
                                                                                                           i
                                                                                                           gn
(of winters throat )
the sallow column
                                          ofwho,sneck
i'm a gently kissing
A Poem touches heart
fake poetry ruins the site
like poison in milk
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