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The world is full of anger and evil and lies and pain and death; you can't hide from it you can only face it and decide what you will become.
A friend

Is there when times are bad
Comforting you in your need
Never turns you away

They help you smile
Share in the joke
But not at your expense

They never hurt you
Talk behind your back
Or leave you on the floor

They not use you
Take from you
Never to give back

They show you love
With a growing bond
Walking beside you

Never in front
To take the lead
To take over

Never behind
To laugh at you
To kick you down

But beside you
To help you up
If you should fall

So look to the right
Then look to the left
You will see the truth

Countless friends
On each side
Smiling with you

So love your friends
Wherever you may go
They will stay with you
Copyright © Chris Smith 2012
and maybe
the moon mourns the sun
for their love is forbidden

they are passing lovers
in this endless endeavor
to find something visceral and real
51
I lived.
I lived in what seemed to be a perpetual hurricane.
Dervish like child, but mild of heart.
I practised living.
I practised loving and leaving.
I am glad that I did.
I bought the tee-shirt, filled up, wore it well.
Left nothing but a nasty taste and pungent smell.
Unsettled is the child wearing the wrinkled face of the ageing one.
The greying hair and playing air.

But, I am far less miserable.
As for now,on the table.
I present the lack of love, I so resent.
I have killed my self metaphorically.
I want some one, but I don't want me.
(C) Livvi
BTW, I am actually happy x
SOME PEOPLE COME INTO
YOUR LIFE AND LEAVE
WITHOUT MAKING A DIFFERENCE.
BUT YOU, OH YOU AND YOUR
DIMPLES SMILE LEFT AN
IMPRINT ON MY BLACKENED
SOUL. EVEN IF YOU LEAVE,
I WILL REMEMBER EACH AND
EVERY CONVERSATION WE HAD.
I WILL LOOK BACK AT THEM
AND SMILE. BECAUSE THAT'S
WHAT YOU DO BEST,
MAKING ME SMILE.
WHETHER YOU ARE HERE
OR NOT
m.w.
I write because it feels right
in the process of writing
I am creating something

the Divine spark lives in me
and comes to life in the act of creation

even during my darkest suicidal hours,
I could not abandon poetry and art.
the act of creating and destroying
saved me

the process of writing is like my life
I build and destroy,
and in the process
try to grow from the experience
Hey Jolly Man
How are you?
Too much to drink
and hangover too.

Naughty list I see
I am very contrite
Not a good year
my life sort of bites

Coal again
in the stocking by the fire
Sitting alone
nothing to desire

The world is a mess
peace to all men
You failed me this year
Not one lasting pen

Holiday cheer
where did it go
I sought to repent
and go with the flow

But these times are hard
for every last soul
I looked to the sky
No St. Nick, see me crawl

Bury my head in the pillow
another Christmas Eve.
Nothing has changed
the world I must leave

Goodbye St. Nick
I want to believe
I sit here in lonely
Tears do not leave
Holiday cheer seems very forgotten by many
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