is
I come home from a hard day of manual labor
pop a top
go through the notifications
and see
real people somewhere out there
in the stream
just as ****** up as I am
and they
plussed me
took the time to comment
they wrote some great poetry
I go to do what I can
to let them
know that someone just like them
****** up alone worried
but awesome
saw their works their
heart strings and visions
their open wounds their hurts
their
words telling me
I am not the only one
out there in the stream all ****** over alone worried
angst word filled touched
by their words their cries their tears;
in the end we all drown;
for now we paddle
keep our heads up

Manning up in Texas
Geldof overdose
needles at the bed stand
starlet comatose

California dreaming
killer meets demise
hurling in a taxi
puke fee on the rise

Fighting in the Gaza
Jordan's holy war
rebels on a mission
Jihad underscore

The North Korean riddle
pales in grand design
crisis on the border
planes fall from the sky

Cooking on a deadline
tempting tapenades
herbs are in the spotlight
wines that give a nod

Google maps the body
DOW at record highs
Uber comes to market
corn is on the rise

Apple on its earnings
Caterpillar dead
European sanctions
banks have **** the bed

Clippers threaten boycott
Longhorns follow purge
Lynch is out of training camp
James is on the verge

Leinart taking *** shots
coughing up a lung
lions take a licking
fans are throwing dung

Another day in Vegas
Primm from A-Z
rolling out an ankle
a flying SUV

Quiet tempting spaces
made better by design
multi color pea coat
silence fuels the mind

Stabbing in the subway
goat caught in a well
apes are selling tickets
(but leave behind a smell)

Puberty on trial
a man without a head
teachers feel alone
lets take them to the shed!

Jonah's tomb destroyed
wreckage in Mumbai
Sugar Daddy sites
Freedom 85

The immigrant debate
Russia's mounting toll
unions on a mission
heads are gonna roll

Beaches for the nudists
hotels on the cheap
the best generic brands
a list you have to keep!

Planning your estate
questions from the camp
a mansion up for sale
where once they filmed The Champ

Midwives threaten action
aboriginal act
truckers want concessions
that train has left the track

Sharks are found in Fundy
a prized but perilous catch
food we love to hate the most
an irrefutable batch

A family on the brink
I want my kids to fail!
politicians drains all hope
a ban on Israel

Follow out each headline
let the columns be your guide
all these things did happen
the day that Newhouse died

Loving kindness
Feelings of affection
Sweet hugs
Warm words
Feeling good about yourself
Feeling joy for the other finding that which makes them happy
So easy hanging out
Acceptance and understanding
The wonder of it all

One person's breakdown
Another person's break through

Sometimes bliss finds consciousness
Sometimes consciousness finds bliss

And that's the way it is
Always ambivalent occasionally right

Riding many ribbons
Twirling in the winds
Many sunrises
Many sunsets
Moment by moment
as one creates their life.

I
When the ant had told,
That December cold
Night, the grasshopper,
Who had spent his summer
Singing in the tree,
To go dance now that
He was hungry & free,
He didn’t show the hurt,
Because he was alert
To the pain
Of winter and language,
So he left the village.
II
When he, thirteen years
Later,
Came back as a baker
(Who worked in the day
And sang in the night)
He went to see the ant,
A blue guitar gift-wrapped -
In his hand.
© LazharBouazzi, TUNISIA

Calmly
Serenely
The sun slowly subsides
From the still-starless sky
And the moon is still a ghost
A time of mystery and myth
Half-light illusions
Unusual shadows
And strange delusions
When memories and dreams
Wander from one to the other
Blend beyond relevance
And I once remembered
A memory I never had

                                       By Phil Roberts

so, tonight, I have all my words out,
splayed out in wondrous array
on the table before me.
Wonder is my taste, my horizon,
I sit in awe.
So many to choose from. The universe of
combinations; it gets too much.
I look at the words in their glorious
celebrations just waiting, and I don't
plan to pick favorites.
I want to use each one effectively, fairly.
Words have feelings.
Can one be jealous of another, or harbor
ill, if disuse becomes her stable.
I want to throw darts, use a random generator.
Relieve myself of the awesome godlike responsibility.
There it  is.
Poetry is my world. I am God here in
stresses and syllables, in forms in choicing.
I set the boundaries and  ethics, the thematics the
rules.
I used to question God.
An apple?  A snake?
Now I have empathy.