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Long summer nights
the sky is filled with stars
humid breezes across the grass
back porch sitting is required
along with a glass of tea
crickets chirping at the moon
an old hound dog scratching
lightning bugs dancing in the air
the smell of BBQ lingers
"I once sold cars, only because of many
lies.
When i told the truth, the customers left
with their hidden ******* salute.
Many of us were ****** if we did, and ******
if we didn't.
So i kept on lying, and had to laugh
about it.
This was me for many,many years.
Then the day came, i found myself shedding
the guilty tears.
Guilty of how i was hurting my fellow man.
crying over the thought how selfish i have
became.
My mind began pounding to the sounds of drums
at a Heavy Metal concert.
Taking the food off of someone's table
so then i can enjoy life's benefits.
How fortunate that i live to see the errors of
my life.
To die before this day, and having to explain
those ways to JESUS CHRIST.
I found something that was never lost.
Just didn't know where to look, and to pay
such a heavy cost."

Thank you Jesus,
Michael...
Dear friends and fiends,
Those who'd weave poems
and lose themselves in dreams,
Let me tell you of the places I've been.

The hour of my writing
is late, as always, and tonight
I find myself trawling through
the deep dark web.
Seeking out the dark
stuff, I cast out the net
to catch a glimpse of fate
and to contemplate the death
of patterns that lurk inside my
head, gleaming all but nothing.

I will have the night always
and I'm wondering what
worth really is. Blasted
signifiers and infernal
meanings! Why can't
it all just go away?

So I spend some time in the darkness
until the end rears its eventual head
and I am left here, blind, grappling
in the dark. All we are, all our
shadows are; beautiful, ugly;
Powerful, ridiculous;
Virtuous/viceful;
Good/bad, right/wrong,
Off/on; it's all the same really,
Tell me which side of the coin
becometh unseen?

No one's listening!
Insignificance is a powerful asset
given today's crazy, contrary world,
It serves as well as any sartorial shield;
Or, rather, should I say it is insignificable?
I am a being thinking no one's bothering
to listen to me yet I do much listening
and even reflecting. I'm not complaining,
Reliving seems a better choice of word.
I do like listening: I listen to the
quiet before morning and after night;
To the hustle and bustle when bathed
in that artificial light;
To other humans who
speak Other languages
in all their idiosyncrasies,
The content of which I'd not
grasp but the form of it I might
understand, from sweet Italian
to feisty Spanish, haunting Irish
to French's romance, the only tongue
I cannot see such quality in is English
because instead I see in it everything,
Some of which I'd rather forget, under-
lying meaning, miscommunication, dis-
information and each mistake and error,
Destroyed etymologies, broken referents
and the tyranny of endless signification;

Everything and Nothing,
∃xistence and ∀niverse.

Although I like to listen
I cannot help what it is
I hear. I do not control
perception though I try
very hard to fool the seer
into ignorance, to ignore
the pessimism I'd otherwise
embrace, to swallow those itty
bitter blue pills I'd otherwise taste.

God love every parent and sibling,
Friend, enemy and other acquaintance
for each of whom I have many mixed
multifaceted feelings but who I'd listen to
nonetheless for the sake of their heads, mental
wellbeing can be such a chore. I really don't know
anymore, I've no real purpose, I'm just a data-*****.

Not a chance nor even a hope of finding
work or love with hobbies like these, and
this for lounging-list of habits that I keep;
No meaning, or at least nothing significant.
Went away and now I've returned,
What do I have to show for it? Well,
I learned to love the weather, now
the rain makes me feel so much better.
 Jul 2016 Adelle Stone
shion
You were supposed to fix the broken pieces of my soul not scatter it across the galaxies in your eyes where your tears filled with shards of painful memories flooded  the starways. It baffles me how our love which started with emanating happiness ended in such glorious tragedy.
I'm pulsating with rage and confusion, but I'll instead apologize for my love wasn't enough to appease what your soul craved for.
I'm thankful for being a sadist because the pain im feeling right now is comparable to crawling on a field of razor blades tipped with a paralyzing  neurotoxin while being chased by your apparition wielding a sword that slowly slashes at what's left of my mangled soul while trying to dodge the knives that always end up in the depths of my heart.
My Jesus, my Savior
Who but you cares
To heal the nations
Hurting and longing
To know you Jesus
To have the faith to
Carry burdens and look
To you for eternal mercy
Who, but you, Jesus
Who has the power to redeem
The lonely, the one''s crying out
For forgiveness and faith to
Believe in you, Jesus

    By:  Leona Chaput
My dads room was often dusty.
He had...things in there.
Things that would strike a childs curiosity.
Exept
It wasnt my curiosity.
He got home from work
Us kids were home alone.
He saw little fingerprints on his dresser.
I was called up to his room
He snatched my hand
Pulled my thumb
And planted a print right next to the crime scene.
My thumb matched the other one.
I pleaded with him that it wasnt me.
And it wasnt.
But he hit me
And told me i was lying
He told me he wouldn't stop until i admitted it
So i lied.
I told him i did it
I didn't.
I was treated like a dog
Had nothing to do with the situation
Just his way of ******* my head.
He
Made me lie
About a truth
That was easy to tell.
I didnt go up there
Someone else did
But like always
I fell for the crime i didnt commit.
Who the **** lies and says he did something that he didn't.
It happened all the time.
I was
I am
A truthful person.
But he made me lie
About being a liar.
And thats how he kept it.
****.
Not a poem but i wanted to share how things are. I need to vent...im sorry. It's bad i know
I am down
I am worn
I am tired
I am hurt
I am bruised
I am torn
But i am a surviver
I prevail
I am an overcomer
And i will
*keep fighting
I often contemplate if being normal
*is normal
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