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For every 5 letters I type,
I backspace 6 times
It's not good enough,

*But, it's what was on your mind
Speak freely from your heart and don't let your brain get in the way. When you write, ***** your words. You can ALWAYS go back and revise. Make sure you get the idea on paper first, that's what's important. Our writing critiques sometimes sidetrack us from what's originally just innocent emotions speaking from the heart.
 Oct 2014 Becky Littmann
ryn

So
tired
I should
try to sleep
the madness
away•I know it
won't but at least
I'd be well rested
enough to tackle
yet another
day

 Oct 2014 Becky Littmann
ryn
Maybe
 Oct 2014 Becky Littmann
ryn
Perhaps I'm encased in a box
made out of two-way glass.
A biased one-way mirror...
Mutual vision doesn't meet nor pass.
When you look at me,
you only see,
yourself for all that you care...
Me? Just a faint suggestion that I'm even there.
   Maybe that's why...
      you ask about my life,
      about my strife.
      When I'm about to unload my
      head,
      I end up having to hear about yours
      instead.

Perhaps at times I travel around
in a bubble of frosted glass.
Only a blurred version of me...
Clumsily ploughing through the mass.
Incoherent, misunderstood and unclear.
Unintelligible muffles of hopes and fear.
   Maybe that's why...
      My words are just perceived as
      playful rhymes.
      Never keeping up with the times.
      Words regurgitated but no one
      realises what's coming undone...

Perhaps what I need
is an armour of bulletproof glass.
One of unique quality...
One ahead of its class.
You can do and say what you want.
A shell that would bear most of the brunt.
     I'll be impervious.
          I'll be protected.
               I can be indifferent.
                    I can be jaded.

   Maybe that's all I need...
           A shocking stunt.
                 A fresh perspective.
                      A new plan.
                           Revised objectives.

   Maybe a different name to start all
   over...
      To tie the binds and thoughts that
      scatter...
      Hoping of holding everything
      together...

Come morning, all will be
      forgotten...
Maybe I'd still be beaten.

   So for a chance that's,
     fat as hell
           or
     thin just a sliver...
Truth is of the three, I have neither...
So...

    *what I've said doesn't really matter.
A piece of you
Reflecting back
The bitter words in your mouth
Too raw to speak
A poet is
Someone in pain
And someone in love
Someone who looks at the world
Through a kaleidoscope
Who takes a magnifying glass to each
And every
Word you say
And lets them imprint on their heart
A poet is
A star gazer
A dreamer
A chaser of
The improbable
But hopes anyway
A poet is
Tissue paper skin
A heart of glass
And a soul of titanium

A poet is
A sharp tongue
And a gentle kiss
She is a sob
He is a sigh
A poet is
The sun at midnight
Bright and
Burning
Hot
Alive
But cloaked in a darkness
They cannot shake
The brightest day
And the darkest night
A poet is
The human experience
A paradox
An oxymoron
So complicatedly
Simple

A poet is
A lover
Who refuses
To stop wearing their heart on their sleeve
No matter how much it bleeds
But rolls them up
So you can’t see
The blood stains


A poet
Is Poetry
Sunday morning trippin front porch sittin
Wishin I had some more
Its funny the perspective of the normal form
While other dimensions lay dorm
Watching and listening to whats going on outside
Aura glistening I thought had died
Sun rising on a new day, breathing life
My thoughts mesmerizing my eyes and I try
To rationalize my decisions and
Break down my visions
Of where I'm headed
I pray my intentions receive some credit
My tummy rumbles yet it pains me much
Funny mumbles til I gasp and clutch
Seven in the morning now
Sun is almost on me now
Will I melt as I'm bathed in it's rays?
A feeling never felt once I'm caught by its gaze
This moment more perfect than ever imagined
Had to write this to prove myself it happened
 Oct 2014 Becky Littmann
LN
If the moon has any secrets to tell,
I would be sitting tonight
with silver linings around my irises
waiting for it to spill
its blood red musings.
In a world without technology,
can you imagine how it would be?
To not have any lights.
We'll probably stay home at night.

In a world without technology,
we'll lose forms of connectivity.
We'll not have wifi or 3G,
distance will be as it should be.

However, without technology,
We won't have people far away,
because we can only walk on foot.
Most will live at home for good.

Without technology,
perhaps there'll be more sincerity,
where more people would be seen,
not looking at their phone screens.

Instead they'll stop and listen,
giving undivided attention,
to the people by their side.

Perhaps without technology,
we would have to do things manually.
Life may be tough physically.

But with technology,
is our life really that easy?
Is the world really as it should be?
Are people living in harmony?

Or is there more strife?
More people losing their lives?
Or is there more pain,
more people dying in vain?

What about pollution?
Isn't it part of our contribution?
All the fuels and carbon,
it'll soon bring us to extinction.

Our earth today is now diseased,
life on earth is not at peace.
We can deny all this,

And this is the utter irony,
while it gives us mass connection,

It reduces engagement,
attention and perhaps even compassion.
"Across the globe, millions reported dying",
ends up being desensitizing.

Technology's connectivity,
leaves us more detached than we should be.
This is a poem on how technology gives us many conveniences and advantages, but it also robs us of many things.  I'm not saying life would definitely be better without it, this is to provoke thinking and to challenge the view that humanity is definitely better with technology.
Trapped in my head
Thoughts I should've said

Words drawn like an artist
This paper is my canvas

The art of written form
My pens creating a storm

Scribbles so energetically
It just comes out poetically

The start of a verbal creation
Ranting and letting out frustration

Written out to sound vocally
Just the way I like my poetry

I'll ask just one question...
Have I made an impression?
Well, have I?
iF You Know Me Then You
Know iM *******
High Right.
Off The Substance that Provides
Super Dialated
Goregeous Eyes. But The come Down
Is A ****.
You Feel Drained , Restrained
Powerless.
No Help But Has A cure That Costs
Your life.
Dosing up so you won't feel pain
The Twist to it
Is the pipe.
Confuses up your mind
Once you Start, you most likely get
Stuck, without Realization
That youll Always have it in
Your position if not youll take risks
To get it
Daily Use, worsens struggle,
Its Not Like ****, with this you
End up feeling like you
Necessarily need it once your hooked you'll think about it 24/7 and becomes your new world. Constant Thoughts of How To Get iT.
The first days are easy
Your supplyd
Have money to buy
Later your body builds a tolerance
A 50 sack Feels like A
Dime sack.
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