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 May 2015 JAM
jeffrey robin
WOW !
I CAN RELATE TO THAT !

Means

---

Your poem solidifies all of my

Preconceptions and prejudices

and acts as armor and protection

Against all the poets and poems

Who are trying to ****** me into

Thinking for myself and goading me on

To change my ways

//

THANKS !!

----
----

GREAT WRITE !

means

---

The form of the poem was such that I was able

To avoid

Any real intrusion into my sanctuary

Of its content

I find the content of poems quite challenging

And disturbing

Like someone is trying to wake me up

And insist that

I too !

Am real .... !

-------
------

CONGRATS !

YOU MADE THE DAILY !!

Means

------

a poem is just a " selfie "

Sexted to friends !

you sure looked cute in that one!

lol...... !

---

---

( what we are really telling each other )

---

Life is ******

I'm ******

You're ******

Everyone is ******

So

Let's all eat **** and die
 May 2015 JAM
jeffrey robin
Wow !

I was sitting here ******* reading poems

and for some reason

Yours made me

YANK ON IT

a little bit harder

And by the *** all over the place

I guess I liked it !!



I can't make a comment to say just why

For I fear

I may thusly become

Involved with you       and ideas

In general

( and thus be drawn into the community )

Of poets

                                            -- Or the community of man

and this to me seems very dangerous

and beyond the scope of my intentions

//

Keep up with the *** **** though

After I clean up a bit

I'll be ready to

Rock n Roll again !

( if ya know what I mean !!! )
 May 2015 JAM
jeffrey robin
)(                   ^                   )(
^
<^>
////  • ||
<>
                             )
                  ####
                / \    / \

            LOVE                                              ­                                      
                          ­                                           ( into the Unknown )

••

golden footsteps

                                                      ­                 ( forever seen )

//

We come to the Eternal Fire

Eventually



tiny cabin in the hills

//

Peasants from the fields

Appear in the magic moment

Of dream's release

///

Why is it:

THOSE WHO ARE LEAST FULLY  ALIVE

Are the most afraid to die ?

YES

WHY IS IT ?

||

||

we see the storm of war approaching

//

( Don't we ? )

//

Who knows what we know or see

//

Little children

Born in these most alien times

DO NOT GET WRITTEN ON !!!

( YOU ARE HERE TO WRITE ! )

//

and tell the story

That is the world

//

( there is a fire burning

A cabin in the hills )

//

Come

We shall go humbly

There is a promise made

Must be fulfilled
 May 2015 JAM
Emily Budrow
Metaphors
 May 2015 JAM
Emily Budrow
Drowning in a sea of despair,
I'm trying to keep my head above the water but it's no use.
Every word being spoken around me inflames my temper,
I am a lost cause.
Soon, I will abandon this roller coaster of emotions.
I will fade into a deep sleep,
I will pray to never awaken.
As I sleep, the stench of failure floods my bedroom, repelling everyone who tries to enter.
I am a lost cause.
Time is a thief who shakes me awake with black and blue hands.
As I struggle to regain consciousness, a decade has past.
Sadness is a captive animal and I,
I am a lost cause.
May 8, 2014
 May 2015 JAM
Roger Turner - Poet
A darkened bar
An old guitar
A stage that once played host
To all the Delta greats and now
to Robert Johnson's Ghost

An old man
His spitting can
A boy from up the coast
Learning how to play the blues
In the home of Johnson's Ghost

You gotta feel the music boy
You sure don't feel too much
Your fingers skipping half the notes
You're playing double dutch
Slide it, let the music meld
That's what folks all want the most
You got to feel it, yes sirree
Like Robert Johnson's Ghost

Five hours passed
Time went fast
But what he learned the most
Was feel the notes
That were wrote
By Robert Johnson's Ghost

The spirit has to fill you
You have to suffer for the blues
You can't come in and play for us
In shiny, brand new shoes

The old man
his spitting can
Made the young boy cry
He played the notes
That Johnson wrote
on the day that Johnson died

Until you feel the music boy
And stop playing double dutch
You got to slide the fingers son
Don't use the guitar as a crutch
Remember where you're playing
And to who it still plays host
You're playing for the netherworld
And Robert Johnson's Ghost
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