from  depths of chaos hope
with the next bud of **** grows
through the loam
nubile  tiny leaf
reaching , a tender glimpse of
restless eternity which
seems to
stand and applaud

Once Upon I, the warrior skeletal
the eternal darkness
descended
with cracked laughter echoing
serendipity exploding
and unfolding  erase(s)
the expanse of nightfall,
those connected before
redemption,
rustic austerity
peace
for she
dreaming forlorn
liberated
by the sword
sine qua non

-
I’ve been walking this long hallway
for over a year
Reading the gilded framed
poems lining the walls,
verse after verse of
beautifully written words

I have made some good
friends along the way
Met some wonderful poets
who I have learned from
as well as learned to respect
and admire (watching far too many leave)
these meetings I will cherish

I have also crossed paths with a few
who didn’t care for me all that much,
hated my dreadful reviews, (blocked me for that)
misundertood my attempts at humor
or didn't appreciate the love poetry
I tried to slip in amongst the fighting,
but that’s okay, it takes all kinds

I've counted the masks worn,
there are more than two reasons
aren't there?
Some smiling, some not,
all there for their own reasons,
which it is not for me to judge
or anyone else, though that doesn't
seem to stop it from happening

Still little by little I have
headed towards a faint light
The soft glow at the far end
of this prose tiled floor
Each day the light became
a bit stronger, brighter
That tiny glowing square
in the distance
bigger and bigger

My shadow leading or following,
longer or shorter
depending on if I walk facing
forwards or backwards,
hop scotching over the hate,
sneaking past the accusations,
hiding from trolls (he found me anyway)
and the finger pointed whining,
hoping to pass go,
(you can keep the two hundred)


All the while sadly realizing
I am slowly becoming
smaller and smaller,
barely visible to others here
Disappearing a little more
with each passing day
Till now I am nothing more
than a forgotten minute speck
at the furthest end
of this meandering corridor

An insignificant silhouette
of a poet who once was,
now slowly fading
out through the opening
to stand in the bright sunlight
And as I refocus my eyes
to my new surroundings
I turn to wave goodbye
to what I so enjoyed
only to see a sign that reads…

*“Thanks for visiting Hellopoetry, whoever the hell you were”

There's Naruto,
And there is Sasuke,
There Is Ronaldo,
And There Is Messi,
There Is Black,
And there Is White,
There Is Long,
And There Is Short,
There Is Satan,
So There Must Be God,
There is Beginning,
And So There Is The End,
But There Is One Thing Without His Opposite,
And That Is You.

The words, like cats,
play around bushes
and are elusive
yet natural.
For, even long before
I knew their truth
and perfection,
they danced around my mind
like rocks being shaken
in a glass orb,
destined to shatter and spill out,
or make their way
and tumble from my lips
and onto yours.
Such simple words,
three in number,
said a hundred thousand times many
in a certain future,
linger in my gaze,
express themselves in
every action,
and in every thought.
I see them flitter in
the alluring shades of brown
you so reverently eye
me with,
as you stand to your tip-toes
and plant a kiss,
plant a seed,
and I feel them pass
from your lips
and onto mine.
And how you hold me,
and cast not one judgment,
as my demons
wreak havoc on my
thoughts like glass,
you speak what I know,
what I've known
and dared not admit.
So I admit to you,
to myself,
these words which are
pouring over a useless dam
in many other forms anyway,
I say it as easily as
I blink,
I say it as easily as
I breathe,
I say it with a finality,
a totality,
a feeling of such completeness
that none has ever compared,
I say the simple sentence
which proves a life sentence,
an all or nothing,
an all in,
all you, always,
all the time,
finally,
I say it.

I love you.

(:deleted

to my good mate steve grigor

i know all i know is that he rode a big scooter and he was a writer

but he was a great writer, so much in facr he taught people how to write

you see steve wasn’t in the mood for staying in his body

he wanted to leave that body and enter in to another body

he was a nice man who enjoyed bowling and writing

and he used to drive his scooter all around the town

you see he taught me how to write and he taught me how to live life to the full

he probably enjoyed a beer or a coke

you see i liked saying hello to him when i saw him

and he said hi brian hows it going

i know steve grigor wasn’t this perfect little angel

but he was a man who taught us through his writing to have a joke about life

now i will give you a little jingle about his passing

it’s a shame it’s a shame it’s a shame

we lost a fine man in steve

it’s a shame it’s a shame it’s a shame

the man who teaches has passed away

i will miss him driving his scooter around this city

who knows he will probably go off to his next life with a lot of of creativity to give

this man was nice, you see he was very nice, but he had a load of body problems

and that is what killed him in the end, i will miss his howdy doody face

goodbye steve grigor

Is it true that opposites attract?
She liked fantasy, he liked fact,
She liked green beans, he liked peas,
She liked chicken, he liked cheese,
She liked champagne, he liked port,
She liked lazy, he liked sport.
She liked new cars, he liked wrecks,
She liked cuddling, he liked ***,
She liked cookies, he liked cake,
She liked real and he liked fake.
She liked daytime, he liked night,
She liked to make up, he liked to fight.
She liked sweaters, he liked coats,
She liked airplanes, he liked boats,
She liked poetry, he liked prose,
She liked tulips, but he gave her a rose.
She said, “Stay.”, and he said, “Go.”
He proposed and she said, “NO!"
He left with dignity still in tact -
So much for opposites attract!
Phil Lindsey 1/7/16