In the high sky
Where the air is weak
And full of strangers
Nothing lives for long
Only gypsy-footed drifters
Come here on their way
To who knows where

And this place can only be reached
Without anchor or rudder
Nor even a moral compass
Riding on clouds of smoke
And it's such a long way down
Through falling-about laughter
And blood in the gutter

                                              By Phil Roberts

I've always heard
How miserable those people are
The ones who feel to much.

But I've never understood
How they could be hurting more than those
Who cannot  feel a thing.

again italics
nor notes longer than my poem
or center align
or bold

or twitter thingies
#hashtag silly
or frilly butterflies
or the moon as my theme

or rhyme
next time

I may
just sit around
and think for awhile
of words

that say it all

So far the story goes
Miss Place keeps everyone on their toes.

For her finding things is not an easy thing
Most of her possessions invariably go missing
Nowhere to be found are objects of her use
And the ones she blames find some excuse
That she is unmindful and blatantly unfair
Her missing comb is there only in her hair
To her desperate hunt for an important file
She's told she's sitting on it all the while
When she lost an earring and was sulking morose
It so happened they said she wore it on her nose
She wonders why her family should at all blame her
If her car keys are found in the dickey of her car
and why on earth should the blame be all hers
when her money is in a book and not in her purse.

Miss Place thinks she knows the reason for such mess
others' gross negligence in putting things in place.

A bottle of wine
ordinary cheese
the foreboding of
the evening breeze

Soft honest words
murmured across the station
And silence for
contemplation

Another slice
another drip
As your mind
begins to slip

Across time
across the rhyme
What's real
so intertwined

I can't remember how
to make blue

How do you gauge democracy, when democracy has been corrupted? How do you know what is just and what is right, when the system itself has fallen apart and the original idea has been completely lost. Lost to the wayside for a quick profit.

If you wish to have a beautiful mind
Learn to absorb anger

Hey everyone I just created my collection named Poetic Party Crew.
I will be sending invites to you so please accept my invention.
Poetic Party Crew is for poets who want to enjoy life.  You only get one life so enjoy your life.  Life is poetry.
I haven't posted a picture yet.  I'm trying to find the right one.
You can post any type of poem in Poetic Party Crew.
hip hop poems, party poems, any type of poem,
Rap poems, Anagram poems, you can also add short stories, prose poetry, rock and roll poems, Jazz poetry, horror poems