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 Feb 2018
Graff1980
I drive.
Each night passes by
cold shadows
tell no lies,
by flicker strangely
like specters
dying before me.

The road is mine
and I am its,
possessed by quiet reflections.
Daylight finds
hills that ride
and roll
up and down
all around me.

Stimulants,
set to see me
safely home,
little nicotine sticks,
not actual cigarette
of vapes
but gas station
electronic
devices,
stacked with
lots of caffeine.

Music and podcasts,
audio books
play by to fast,
they never seem to last,
because the drive never ends.

Hotels,
hot showers,
more caffeine
then overtime hours.

Until,
they settle me down
to one worksite
and that rogue
road work life
fades fast behind me.

Part of me misses
the unpredictable madness.
Part of me is grateful
for the stability.
Its healthy
cause I get better sleep.
Now I drive the same route
every **** day,
but I miss the strangeness
of the different roads
I used to take.
 Feb 2018
Graff1980
Do you know how to love shadows
sit in a sick stew of solitary confinement
for a crime you did not commit?

Do you know the feel of someone else’s violence
the stinging lashes, reddening
rage distorting
fury unleashed
by someone who seems
to hate you
as much as they
hate themselves?

Do you know the flinches,
the constant guarding,
the tears cried
only when no one else
is in sight
cause why
give those ******* the satisfaction?

Do you know the self-deprecation
self-debasing
pretending that your pain
is so freaking hilarious?

Do you know the loneliness
of the vacuum
cause you distrust
any stranger
who might touch
you?

Do you know the shame
and pain
when people push
and claim
that you should let
the perpetrator
back in to your life again?
Do you know
how it feels
to press down
on the skin that swells
while tears and snot
stifle your breathing
after a beating,
how the physical pain  
of the abuse
seems to weaken
but the other stuff
leaves you wishing
you were never born?
 Feb 2018
Graff1980
You
dear humanity
have robbed me
of my sanity,
stealing my solace
and left a disease
of emptiness,
but I will
have my peace
when I leave,
when I am deceased.
 Feb 2018
Graff1980
He is not here
and there is
a clear fear
that my dear
brother
will die
in some other country.

Perhaps, a plane will crash
split and bend
while it spins
spiraling
like a wild football,
and fire will rain,
and there will be pain,
and I will not see him again.

Perhaps, some religious sect
will find and collect
my brother and his new bride
to collect a ransom check
or **** him for his religious views.

Other deaths come in to my head.
Unbidden nightmares
that wake me.
Then I daydream
that he returns to me.
A small red breasted robin
singing joyfully,
a reincarnated being.

Sadly, I do not believe such things.
So, I still dread the day
someone comes and says
your brother is dead.
 Feb 2018
sunprincess
Sweet devil's foid cake freshly baked
Is there any dessert more tasty?
Capturing our minds,
And capturing our hearts
Sweet devil's food cake
Quite a dream with ice cream!
I will always look up to you,
And admire you,
Just as I do
The magnificent stars
In the magical night sky.

~ Always.

By Lady R.F. (C)2018
 Feb 2018
Elizabeth Squires
an all consuming love*
took hold of the narcissist
his great admiration for self
was the everlasting gist

in front of the mirror he stood
kissing his own reflection
whilst at it saying I'm so deserving
of my steadfast affection

yes he was absorbed
in a love profound of pond
this being the love he'd
keep fervently fond

no one else could love him
with such a richness of care
cause he was unable to
empathetically share

the love he did bear inside
his indulgent infantile heart
would never be completely
*cleaved apart
 Feb 2018
Graff1980
To see you smile again
to play a game of
Chinese checkers
and then dominoes
watch wheel of fortune
to see who knows
the answer faster
then those *******
on the show.

To see your
scraggly face
half-grown beard
silent strong type
who smoked a pipe
who worked the campground
near the end of his life
just to make a little more money
and have something extra
to do at night

To go back to when
we three were traveling
together to New Salem
me the small skinny
child with tubes in his ears
and you two old farts
who took me there

Now I only see you two
in dreams.
 Feb 2018
Graff1980
What a beautiful man
a character in muted colors
speaking Shakespeare’s words.
I covet the players coven
a place where such wonders
where made manifest,
where actors did their best
to express in proper parlance
past prose and poetry.

What a fine figure
full of creative vigor
that speaks loudly
marking lines with fierceness
and a slight playful puckish
variety.

What a time to relish
spoken forms
the theater
worn for such
vocal storms
and I am in love
not a ****** decree
but an infatuation
founded upon
the wonderous creativity
of this sweet performer
before me.
 Feb 2018
Graff1980
Shame on me
for having a human heart.
It is a strange weakness
to watch and see this
wave of inhumanity
and wonder why
I stand immune
from said insanity
whilst all the other people
rush and strangle each other
in a frantic state
of hate and rage
that breaks the place
where some people stash
true love away.
Gorgeous is the woman
with storms in her eyes,
a bruised soul
and many scars
but still dares to open up,
to trust with her heart
and fall in love
that is a woman
who bleeds stardust
and cries
tears of pure love….
This is dedicated to a really sweet person that I know, who has no idea how strong she actually is.
Sweetie, you shine, keep shining!!
 Feb 2018
Seema
I don't know about pure soul,
Whether its pure as gold or black as coal,
I am a human born around materialistic matters,
Where I witness who is along and who shatters,
I believe in karmic deeds,
Not based on peoples petty needs,
I don't know how a soul looks like at this life stage,
For if I considered confronting a saint or a sage,
Then probably I would have some hints about souls,
But in this life am okay knowing my roles,
So if you have your own opinion about souls,
Its good to preach to whoever is hanging on poles,
Cause they would witness their so called souls,
After their bodies get buried in damp dark holes...


©sim
Someone once asked me, if my soul was pure or just coal.
I gave him this reply.
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