A Poet's Voice - Hello Poetry

Feb 5

Natalie N Johnson

I'm honest but I'm flexible, one
truth today might be a lie
tomorrow, sorrow turns
to laughter like alchemy,

me oh my, are you
confusing sometimes, but
I'm enticed and derided,
nice coincided with ruthless
but I'm toothless, I have

no bite, despite all my bark,
dark eyes and dark fingernails
scratch at your surface but
you reveal yourself all

too quickly, sickly and
terrible and beautiful, you're
there and I'm here but we
are together, somehow,
plow my fields and harvest
my crop yield, there is

part of me that belongs to you
and if I sound like I'm telling
a lie, know that it's true,
if only just for today please,
believe what I say.

Feb 2

Dark n Beautiful

r.ip g

Decorative image of graphic representations of green leaf

Divorce me, untie or break that knot again, (quote a line)

Even in death you think,

you have that hold on me:

It is the week of your passing, however it is

My everlasting reassurance,

another blessing, another year

Gone into the unknown,

it's has not yet been proven

About the scattering of your ashes

Am I a fool, to feel sympathy for you.

Or should I just simply smile and speak

Boo!  boo!  or not to speak ill of the dead

There goes the dead.

There is not a single blessing

Which we receive on earth

That does not come from heaven,

That source of our new birth

Deep within each blessing I received from heaven

we deserve it, blessing on blessing,

Either for me or for my loved ones

R.I.P G

Jan 30

Theanm Ankh Is Also Human

Highway to a Permanent Ghostland

I wake up without you
Lying away from me won't solve your problems
Not even on your cold asphalt bed
Your mechanical graveyard covers twisted tight around you

Rain rinses your wounds
The blood is washed away
A river flowing into my room
I don't recognize you, sitting in the corner

Watch my chest heave with silent sobs
Picturing your gnarled face
I don't sleep
I go to bed with you still gone

#loss #death #permanence #sleep

Jan 23

SleepEasy

Observations

Not many men wear skirts
but many women wear pants
When women and children are leaders
no one is happy
Men worshipping idols
Women chasing money and independence
Turning our backs on the Lord
Afraid and in dismay
Men kneel before their mothers wanting to go back
into her arms to **** on her ****** once again

Men are catty and ready to fight for no reason
Women have *** with so many partners it's disgusting
We have ****** men who want wives but can't find one
Women are all on social media with multiple accounts
A successful marriage is like winning the lottery these days
The churches are being undermined and attacked by government

A government that labels Christians mentally ill
and medicates them till they are complacent
Obey and you're free
Forced to lie by the liars
It's what they're doing to the saints
Rubbing dirt in the eyes of God's children
I am against the world and the system
I am perpetually prepared for martyrdom
My heart's treasures are in heaven not on earth
They hated the the old prophets they hate me too

Jan 12

Pradip Chattopadhyay

The Napping Man

Strange
What dream
A man tries to catch
In broad day
As the world busily
Passes by him.

A fleeting glimpse I had of him
seated on a small slab napping.

Was the night harsh on him
as he lay on the floor
stinking with his toils
with no roof overhead
looking at an absurd firmament
hazily spangled with stars.

Was he weighing his life in starlight
counting rusted coins of losses
breathing heavily through the void
as darkness weighed him down.

Was he waiting for a sleep
that would ripen his dreams deep
reaching him to the farthest galaxy
where every objects were made
only for him

objects of riches and success
and then deeper beyond..
love, peace and happiness.

Maybe the night returned him no dream
and trying to make up
he sought the refuge of day.

Was I the man in the glimpse
I thought
with nothing but dreams
as I rode away into the day
to embrace what is destined!

Jan 10

Nylee

Toxic chase

In the toxic crunch of work's latent surge,
We drone on, trapped in a much bigger surge.
Deficit of time, of money, of life,
In this job's toxic strife.

Words become meaningless,
As we toil on endlessly.
Our spirits drained, our souls consumed,
By this job's toxic fume.

But still we persist,
Driven by the need to exist.
In this toxic world's toxic race,
Where time is money, and money is pace.

#nyee

Jan 4

South by Southwest

I care not . . .

I care not about the words
spoken
Nor the one's laid down on page
I long ago got over myself
and the antics of my rage
They seem to be valueless
in the scrapped scope of paradise
I will take the offer given
and let the advice suffice
Poets don't live in mansions
Nor on rheams , nor texts or screens
They occupy the inner works of imaginations and all that it will bring
People don't pay for poets
nor feed their desperate ego
They just steal a line or perhaps a quote just to prove that they must know
At least songs have a memory with words dripping in notes for coats
So much easier to swallow
Not like the paper that chokes
So next time you say heh listen
I'll turn my head and flee
For it must be another attack of killer poetry