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 Jul 2017
wordvango
you have this spot archived like right in my iris a place forefront in my cerebellum a name I see in granite written
childhood's innocence rebirthed sidewalks chalked in squares
hopping skipping again
a great change a revisit to the passions of youth
and I want to innocently kiss you love
a first kiss a blush again
the rush flowing like the winds from the west
carrying essences of tropical plants
morning coffees on that porch
I have in this premonition
 Jul 2017
Gidgette
I'm the "crazy lady" here in town
My long skirts and big hats seem to frighten
My eyes are too big for my face,
I'm well aware
But, I paint them anyway
I can't leave
I drink too much
Think too much
I lie about caring what these people think
I care
It hurts
The things they say
Odd
Strange
Crazy
Insane
*****
They say
"What? She knows no other colour than black is in existance."
"Her family have their money from shine."
"Her nans is Cherokee. Red skinned. And she dyes Her hair, I've heard."
I'm the crazy lady
I look away.....
 Jul 2017
Graff1980
This is how the spoon stirs,
how the soup swirls
in several spinning
concentric circles.

This is the plump
juicy red tomato body
struggling against
the gravity
of this liquid reality,

plopping when it drops
jalapeno sauce
dripping little hots spots.

This is one spicy dinner.
 Jul 2017
Graff1980
My blood is ink.
At least I think.
The last time I saw it
was when I tried
to cut myself and die,
but ended up
only staining the kitchen sink
with bits of runny poetry.
 Jul 2017
Nat Lipstadt
prefer celery to carrots
light scrunch over an orange hard crack,
straw red over berries bluest,
coffee over tea,
skies white clouded
over
all clear, unadulterated uni-tone,
blondes, brunettes, redheads,
even pink or blue haired,
well, ain't going there
(wink wink,
too smart for that...)

but that's just me

colors viral virulent  over manhattan grey~black,
a good Pinot over a glass of Jack,
beach and sea undefined
over lake delimited, outlined bounded,
ocean caught fresh over farm raised,
city slick over country sweet,
striped bass over monk,
tuna bests salmon,
but both miso coated please...

Italian Indian Ethiopian
Sushi and occasionally Chinese,
all grand,
but my kosher deli and dogs, pickles,
yellow mustard ball parked,
tops them all
especially when serving
all-you-can-eat
over tasting portions...

but that's just me

right over left,
naked better than ****,
polite over rude,
Rembrandt tops Vermeer,
but his light nonethess,
extra over ordinarie...

Swiss over white American,
Gruyere beats goat cheese,
citrus tops apples,
sweet melon my
secret passion,
paprika and oregano,
never ever cilantro,
milk over OJ,
especially, grade A
milk of human kindness,
all flavors

love my poems centered,
(except for this one)
with no sugar added,
but a lot of cream and sweat,
both a necessity, not a luxury,
prefer mesmerizing,
crafting hard, laboring,
me writing, you imbibing,
leaving you oohing and loving
me
because of the appreciation built in
over
ditties that are semisweet
sugar nadas that populate the
easy come easy go away
poem of the day

but that's just me

like myself hard
cause when I melt,
to a child's grin shyest,
laughter silly me provoking
it is ever so better so...
tears, any kind, don't mind
laughing and sorrowing pouring,
let genuine be my only test
speed limit barrier unlimited

sorta saved a street crossing
phone-occupied-woman yesterday,
put my arm across her body
fast hard, unasked
so she wasn't
bicycle crashed,
both looks well received,
the *** and the gratitude,
but latter over former,
if I had to choose,
but I dont

but that's just me

Joanie M. over Judy C.,
Amy over Adele,
Eva Cassidy over all...
Zombies over Beatles,
Blunt over Taylor,
Rhyming Simon over Billy Joel,
no typos over flaring,
glaring no caring...

your poetry over mine,
cause it amazes,
cause mine,
just old familiar crazies,
just runaround Sues from yester pester days,
transcribed for a someday later
future grimacing laugh of
good god did I write that!

but that's just me

wrote quite the many
literary escapades
this morning,
like the yore,
good old days,
when every glance,
remark passing
made me run
to tablet them
in perpetuity ASAP

placed them before you
scattered thither and dither,
like all that jazz notes
running hands over planes geometric,
most just average,
but all there in hopes
you would love me better

but that's just me

sneaking inside you with
a wink, a tink-ering whimsy,
a stupid smile, a wicked sinning
humongous grinning
with a belly laughing,
havoc raising, me crazing,

*but that's just me
11-1-14
thinking I like celery better than carrots, and the rest you just read...
 Jul 2017
phil roberts
There's a quiet murmuration
Of figments of my imagination
Dreams and broken notions
Feelings and emotions
Swirling and rearranging
Into ever-changing shapes in my mind

There are absent gods and howling dogs
And the broken backs of the poor
While jugglers perform tricks with wealth
As nobody seems to care anymore
Amidst marching boots as children shoot
And hope lies dead on the floor

There seems to be a ghost somewhere
Wandering high in purple mountains
And low in deep green valleys
And this roaming soul may well be
A kind of long lost truth
Inside my hidden mind

                               By Phil Roberts
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