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Said the little boy, "Sometimes I drop my spoon."
Said the old man, "I do that too."
The little boy whispered, "I wet my pants."
"I do that too," laughed the little old man.
Said the little boy, "I often cry."
The old man nodded, "So do I."
"But worst of all," said the boy, "it seems
Grown-ups don't pay attention to me."
And he felt the warmth of a wrinkled old hand.
"I know what you mean," said the little old man.
 May 2015 moondust
Maya Angelou
You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may trod me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I'll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
'Cause I walk like I've got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I'll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops.
Weakened by my soulful cries.

Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don't you take it awful hard
'Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines
Diggin' in my own back yard.

You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may **** me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I'll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I've got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?

Out of the huts of history's shame
I rise
Up from a past that's rooted in pain
I rise
I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise.
 May 2015 moondust
Maya Angelou
Your hands easy
weight, teasing the bees
hived in my hair, your smile at the
***** of my cheek. On the
occasion, you press
above me, glowing, spouting
readiness, mystery rapes
my reason

When you have withdrawn
your self and the magic, when
only the smell of your
love lingers between
my *******, then, only
then, can I greedily consume
your presence.
 May 2015 moondust
Cat Fiske
sometimes,
reading your ten words,
is just what I needed,
what 10 word poems do for me and others,
10w
 May 2015 moondust
like clockwork
she poured out her soul for the love you promised you'd fill her with but then you broke her heart and now she's empty
 May 2015 moondust
Poetic T
Do you see what I see
I am the news
******,
Death,
Suicide
Was It them or me
The lines are blurring
Between what was
And was is real
There is blood on my palms
Is it theirs, mine or yours
What is happening to me,
Screams of those lying on the floor
Tears,
Blood,
Fear
Fills the eyes as they no what is next,
What to expect, I whisper words
"Not spoken by my lips"
As I look a light  shines down
Am I ascending to heaven,
Then I look to my left, Televisions
Show my face in a ****** crowd.
"I made the news"
A face seen in a crowd of light,
"Freeze"
"Hand On Your Head"
I hear their words as I raise shaking hands
"I didn't do this"
"That's not what your hand says"
I glance up as a blade duck taped to
My quivering hand. blood drips off
And I see that reality is sinking in,
"Hands on your head"
As I realise everything was me,
"Last chance on you knees"
As blurred moments flood through,
"I am what I am"
"Hi mum if your watching I made the news"
As lead rains upon me, I look up and see
Light,
Fading,
Darkness,
Envelopes my sight, the last thing I hear is
My own voice
**"I made the news, I made........"
 May 2015 moondust
enjolras
to be held?
to just exist in someone else's arms
and escape from your own grasp
to just feel as if you weren't completely alone
in the complexity of the universe
in its dimensions and holes
and just feel
for once
wanted.
 May 2015 moondust
enjolras
do we have together

how many until
we never speak again

does today count?
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