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 Sep 2016
Butch Decatoria
Adam4's acquaintances who frequent
Foxholes as salivary soliloquy,
Usually suspected no second helpings

A dim ambience for an active bedroom
On battery powered candles
Concorde lighting
The carpet's edges chewed thin
Receding hairlines
And he uses me as bait..?

Our neglected puppy's teething
Nesting under California
King Mojo's hollowed cushions
Keeps him gnawing these nights
Misters and oil burners

I was mistaken, there are those
That revisit--reacquainted with him,
Must of shared a Starbucks,
As his Sasquatch hands
Rub wet platinum on his old fellow
Bears and their Cubs

Silicon smooth pets, house boys
Fished from the deep web,
Plagiarizing with their eyes the pleasures
Of Eurocreme
Bare back dreams, hours heave
The subtitled felatio scenes

I tell the old man, they only ***
After and mostly when
Most of the guest leave,
There is one hovering quick
To accommodate his
Ginger manly girth

I'll be out in the smoking section
At the side of the house
Through the slider door
From off the kitchen dining area
Where he had once
Replaced the table with billiards
For a Lenny and his troop...

His Samsung vibrates every time
I take a five to breathe
Chain smoke and self defocations grief
He posts another ad.

If only you heard
The vagrant shout
A banchee in my skull
For these off the street urchins
Plugged in to the internet's latest
For a place to squat
For winter will be cold
For them to just
****** off

And here I go again,
Assuming that these were decent folk
Come for the holidays
Between taint and pocket rocket
Wallets drain
When one lets the desperate
Indigents
Free range...
"What's there for dinner?"  

**** chicken heads again?
*Same ole same old dope...
09192009
 Sep 2016
Butch Decatoria
It's a Kuerig

Not a cure all.

Since every workday morning

I have mistaken as weekends

Like those Indian summers

At nine

Over-sleeping-in

My little white pillow cloud

I piggy back rode

Since then mistaken my dreaming

For Heaven (in the Nth

degrees)

Far from myself.

Here now,

MidLife.

Grind...

How dark roasts have that

So similar in aroma

Bitterness

And caustic ash

After

Taste.

Instant is cheap.

Coffee.
09172016
 Sep 2016
Cynthia Jean
Being politically correct. ..that blue house over there  is red.  We must all agree that it is red...otherwise. ..we are subject to being accused of hating the blue  ( I mean red) house. ..

and

Oh yes,  of course. ..the emperor is definitely  wearing new clothes. ..

can't you see???

cj2016
New clothes
 Sep 2016
Cynthia Jean
Laws do not restrict the actions of people  who do not follow the law...hello...and who, indeed is subject to the law???  What  income and power bracket applies? ??

Just something to think about. ...

Cj 2016
Who  "gets " to keep them and who doesn't. ...
 Sep 2016
Cynthia Jean
guns don't ****

people do

guns gather dust in the corner
of a peaceful
person's
home

that thing called
the second
amendment

it is a man's  right

to protect himself
against
the
tyranny
of governments
criminals
and
terrorists

those who would
take
away
your freedom
and
your life

the criminals
the terrorists
the governments

will
always
always
always

find a way
find a way
find a way

to get a gun
to get a gun
to get agun

to control you
to control you
to control you

and
strip  strip strip
you  you you
of
your your your
freedom freedom freedom

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

to steal from you
to
take
your
life
and the lives of  the children...

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

if you take
all
the
guns
away
from
peaceful
law-abiding
citizens

then

only
only
only

criminals
c­riminals
criminals

terrorists
terrorists
terrorists

and

tyrann­ical governments
tyrannical governments
tyrannical governments

will have them


then

how will
how will
how will

the peace lover

protect
protect
protect

himself

or you?

protect

his freedom

and yours?

the killing

will

never stop...

gun control

will never stop

the dying

as long as we have

human nature

we need

the kingdom of God

as long as

man

makes all the rules

he will call

all the shots

all the shots

all the shots

all the shots

all the shots

all the shots

.............

........

.....

..

.

cj 2016
case in point...chicago is synonomous these days with "gun control".  there are 50 more shooting victims year to date than all of 2015
 Sep 2016
Cynthia Jean
the softness
of the rain
gentles
and
holds
me
dear

cj 2016
listening to the rain as a lullaby
 Sep 2016
Doug Potter
I gather smells from
the garden near
the well
where
every drop drank
will be worth
my toil.
End of year gardening.
 Sep 2016
SøułSurvivør
I am on the site now
To call for prayer & praise!
My father's in the woods again
In hospital for days
I'm trying to be strong now
But feel a little dazed
I need the Holy Spirit
With Him I'm unfazed

My dad is in a lot of pain
He's blind in the right eye
Something has gone very wrong
As yet we don't know why
He is very stoic
But something's gone awry
He's 91, a veteran
A real stand-up guy

They don't want optic surgery
As he's so elderly
There must be a solution but
We don't know what it could be!
They may have to put him under
Danger to a high degree
They'll replace the cornea
So again he'll see!


This, and so much more in life
Causes us to plod
But there is One to help us
Him I will applaud!
He is ever faithful...

*Jesus Christ our GOD!
I'm not going to be on site again for a while. I will try to read later today, but I'm calling on a lot of people to pray for my father. He's in the hospital again, with tremendous pain in his right eye. This man is stoic... hardly ever complains. So his eye must really hurt!

I'm asking for prayers and good thoughts again... and praise for the Most High! He alone holds the solution! Thank you!

♡ Catherine
 Sep 2016
Thomas
If only I was different,
Would I finally fit in,
If only I was what you wanted,
Would you love me,
If only I could understand,
Would you regard me as me,
If only I normal,
Could you let me live a normal life,
If only I was clean,
Would you reach out your hand,
If only I could be perfect,
Would you understand that I'm not,
If only I could find who I am,
Would you believe that I found me,
If only I left,
Would you realize what I felt,
If only I lived long enough,
Would you finally realize my potential,
What I could have been.
It's a poem
 Sep 2016
Thomas
I sit here wearing my perfection suit,
Crying for no understandable reason,
But society doesn't see this,
I cry behind my suit,
Inside my secret world,
In a deserted island,
With shores so high there is no rocket that could reach the land,
With an impenetrable castle,
Inside a small room in the centre,
I sit here hidden from society and I cry,

I cry scared of the judgements filled into my tiny ****** life,
I get up wondering why,
I go to bed staying awake digging a hole of thought to tomorrow,

"But you don't have depression" They convince me for another day,
I'll stay up tonight drawing blood with a pencil,
Writing down my imperfections on my skin,,
If my parents see they assume I'm just copying the rest of society,

So I try to wear my perfection suit,
I'm finding it hard when thoughts are everywhere,
Even with the loudest of music doesn't work anymore,

Bridges scare me now every time I step on one my gears in my head start spinning,
I throw up over the railings unable to hold my emotions in,
I run home as my depression grows and begins tearing my perfection suit apart,
All of those people staring at me,
Judging me and my imperfections,

I run across the street hoping,
Empty,
I run on faster getting rid of the joy of ending it all today,
I run into my house and up to my room,
Alone,

The doctor hands me pills,
I take the bottle and as I leave I place it back on the counter,
So mush me with drugs, therapy, yoga, dance, you can't make my disease go away,
It has infected me,
I am stained with thoughts that will never go away,
So to whom ever tries to "minimize" depression,
Leave them be you only make them think deeper every time you say a word.
 Sep 2016
Sometimes Starr
yellow pasture
sitting resplendent,
drinking water.
trees submerged in a balmy sea of air
don casual green boughs
and i'm sitting
god slipped me just between the yellow sky
and the yellow grass
of the pasture

that is where the Only Traveled Path leads
but a stinging noise began in the corner of the sky
and who knows why?

and what comes after?
 Sep 2016
Thomas
Depression kills,
Depression fills my mind like torture,
Thrills and trills do not woe me,
For depression kills and fills my mind like torture.
It's a poem
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