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The girl who thinks Tuesday is "almost Friday"
bakes in her room like a milk-crate left for Phoenix dead.

Nobody's knocking
but nobody's thinking.
How do we know that the fly loves its life on the web
if we've only consulted the spider?

How do we document
a Grecian revival of a Spanish writer.
 Feb 2015 Benny Into
Nina Campos
You were the first hit.
The sting of the needle.  
The hole rips into the pale, white forearm flesh leaving a constant reminder that I said "This is the last time."
When it wasn't.
I just wished I never picked you up.
I wish I never held you so dearly.
I wish you were as safe as drugs.
 Feb 2015 Benny Into
Rana Ayman
Put a bullet through my head
Cuz I'm alive yet I'm dead
I'm sick of everything and everyone
I see no moon, I see no sun
All I see is a gun..
So I'll take it and put it to my skull
But all I feel is null
I no more feel a thing
Not the joy of a swing
Nor the pain of a sting
So give me one reason to why I should fight
Tell me the story,  what's wrong and what's right
They said at the end of the road there will be light
But all I see is the dark black night
I'm on the edge of darkness
Some may think I'm heartless
And all I write is artless
But all I feel is blankness, and it's driving me to madness..
 Feb 2015 Benny Into
W. H. Auden
Certainly our city with its byres of poverty down to
The river's edge, its cathedral, its engines, its dogs;
Here is the cosmopolitan cooking
And the light alloys and the glass.

Built by the conscience-stricken, the weapon-making,
By us. Wild rumours woo and terrify the crowd,
Woo us. Betrayers thunder at, blackmail
Us. But where now are They.

Who without reproaches showed us what our vanity
has chosen,
Who pursued understanding with patience like a ***,
had unlearnt
Our hatred and towards the really better
World had turned their face?

Who knows? The peaked and violent faces are exalted,
The feverish prejudiced lives do not care, and lost
Their voice in the flutter of bunting, the glittering
Brass of our great retreat,

And the malice of death. For the wicked card is dealt and
The sinister tall-hatted botanist stoops at the spring
With his insignificant phial and looses
The plague on the ignorant town.

Under their shadows the pitiful subalterns are sleeping;
The moon is usual; the necessary lovers touch;
The river is alone and the trampled flower;
And through years of absolute cold

The planets rush towards Lyra in a lion's charge. Can
Hate so securely bind? Are they dead here? Yes.
And the wish to wound has the power. And tomorrow
Comes. It's a world. It's a way.
Your mouth
Reminds me of a pus spewing wound
Building poison pressure bursts to the surface
Erupting a hot flood of thick green infection
Splattering over everyone you touch
Like volcanic bile.

Your words
Are an ill smelling fungus
A sick compilation
Of every hateful thought
Infesting your heart
Like a sac of wormy toadstools

Your life
Is a blame game
A who to maim game
Projecting fault
Verbal assault
Destruction the goal
Of your cold blackened soul
 Dec 2014 Benny Into
CE Thompson
i hear it beating
like that thunder in the dark
its a pulse beyond blankets
and hot tea on cold nights
i hear it filling
every crevice of the world
its stalking, close, breath
every neck can feel upon it
i can fall for it
my rabbit mind sneaks into the trap,
its an eagle heart remaining free.
that's what this downfall has in store
Passion that once burned
like a white hot flame
has been extinguished
and only darkness remains

mkt
Baby Starr

Look at you sitting there
With your chubby hand
Holding my heart with your laugh
Knowing where I stand

Sweet Baby Starr
I know where you are
Staring at you sleeping
Listening to your baby breath
Waiting for your laugh

Hearing the morning sounds
Under the white mounds
Praying a mother’s prayer
While stroking your golden hair

You are the reason I could fly
My baby
You are the reason I feel so alive

My Baby Starr
Look at you growing up
Asleep upon your bed
Holding your teddy bear
Felling such love and care

With your little arms around my neck
Oh Lord, forgive me I yelled
For some little mistake
That she made


My little Starr
Kissing my little one’s tear stained face
Promising to be better
With each daily light
Holding each other tight
Chasing the fireflies
In the hot humid night
So tiny
But oh so bright

She sat on the table
Swinging her little legs
Her body as released as it could be
Her thought at that time
Was telling the jokes to me
The little girl sat by her mom’s side
“Mom, when will I grow up?”
“Patience dear, it will be soon enough!”
Sweet sixteen her first schools dance

Oh where did the years go by?
“Will anyone dance with me?”
She asks me why
“Patience, my dear soon enough!”

They said you were wild
I said you were free
They said you wouldn’t listen
I said you would to me

Young girl grew into womanhood
And marriage she did go
Love came and love went
Finally one true love endured

The beautiful bride looked
Towards her mother
“Can I make a marriage work?”
“Patience, my dear, patience, soon enough”

Mom it’s Valentine’s Day
I want you here with me
I feel like a little girl
That I want to be
Will I ever be able to see you again?
In the heavenly skies

A cold autumn day, the last leaves
Falling from the trees
Tears falling like rain
“Mom when will I ever see you again?
This is Baby Starr, looking for you”

Soft upon the wind came the reply
“Patience, my Starr, soon enough!”

By: Debbie Brooks

Author and Poet Susan Joyner-Stumpf and I have collaborated on this poetry book to help raise money to help the children with cancer..
here is the following link ...
Please help the children
http://www.lulu.com/shop/deborah-brooks-langford-susan-joyner-stumpf/nothing-but-love/paperback/product-21961423.html
All Proceeds for this book, NOTHING BUT LOVE, will go to the Children of ST. JUDE CHILDREN’S RESEARCH HOSPITAL in Memphis, Tennessee. It is the goal of me and Susan Joyner-Stumpf to make sure that the heart of this book, the words of love spread between these pages, spread also to all these children in their dire needs to know that they are loved and supported by many of us out there wanting to help and do our part. May they never be forgotten. And it is our genuine wish that our book help in some small way make a life better, a heart happier, a child smile and, last but not least, may we give at least one child the hope to carry on in their journey towards health and a long, productive life.
https://www.facebook.com/stjude?pnref=story
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