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 Jan 2020
Ann M Johnson
Sensitive  

   I am just sensitive enough to cry to a sad song  

   I am just sensitive enough to sing along to a song that touches my heart

   I am just sensitive enough to cry while watching a Hallmark movie  

  I am just sensitive enough to listen to other’s troubles and either empathize or sympathize with them  

  I am just sensitive enough to be a shoulder to cry on

  I am just sensitive enough to be a good friend  

  I am just strong enough to not feel like apologizing for being sensitive because it is a part of who I am

I am hoping that you are sensitive enough to except my sensitivity as part of my unique character and personality.
My poet friends feel free to comment and/or offer feedback.
As always I appreciate you all.
 Jan 2020
Graff1980
Just a couple of inches
till I am almost there,
just a couple seconds
and someone might care.

But right now, no one
is asking how I feel.
I just keep checking in
on everyone and that’s
how I manage to deal.

No ghosts in the attic
but I am haunted.
No Mary Shelley
Or Lord Byron
but this is gothic.

A tingling sensation
like it’s my spider sense
cause I know what horrors
are cooking in the cauldron,
those bad vibes are a boiling.
 Jan 2020
Graff1980
Where will I be
when I turn sixty-three?

Will summertime
come to find
me sitting on
a chair in my
back lawn,
as a stray cat
stretches out
and yawns
to the setting
of the evening sun.

Or will dawn fine me
rising old and lonely
with more regret
for what I have not
done yet
and never will.

Will I be
the patriarch
of a late start
family,
with grandchildren
swarming me.

Or will death find me
several years to early
making sixty-three
this millennial’s
never will be
late night fantasy.
 Jan 2020
Graff1980
I give kindness freely
as if I had an eternity
of time to share my
gentlemanly disposition.

But trust is reserved
and given only in
minor increments.
It is mostly
non-existent.

Gentle as I am
I resist the urge
to trust a stranger.
Given kind words
even the familiar
seldom earn
my highest esteem.

For what I have seen,
honesty is less enticing
the travesty of finding
fellow friends lying
and vying
for their own interest
has left me introverted.

Even love is held back,
because I do not want
to give anyone that
which could mortally
wound me.
 Jan 2020
muteD
The darker the darkness,
the crazier the thoughts.
That little piece of meat,
a sectioned off part of my brain breeds pain.
It specializes in it
and in reminders.
Like a calendar
but this one ties you in
your own personal electric chair.
Each reminder,
Each charge,
Each word
reverberates throughout your entire body.
It brings pain.
Brain pain,
the only thing I truly know.
The only thing I was force to learn.
I wish I could unlearn the things in my brain,
remove the whole thing
and start from scratch.
Must find a way out,
Need to find my way out
of this inescapable maze of my mind.
Even if all that is left to remember me by
is a splatter on a wall.
These are 2am thoughts. Starting to realize I have a love/hate relationship with what lies in the dark and darkness itself.
 Jan 2020
Graff1980
What can you say
to a rogue road
word warrior
who fight’s a
new dragon each day.

Tilting windmills
that really are
fat cat monsters
in red sports cars.

Gentlemen protectors,
consummate failures
that succumb to the thumb
of corporate jailors
in this capitalistic
prison system.

Self-directed learner,
midnight oil burner
whose biography
would barely be
a once a day
page turner.

What can you tell
a man who sees hell
in beauty
and pulls
psychedelics
from cow ****.

When reality has been
subjected by
profitable trends
and the world’s end
is only a minor irritation
to their united nation
of bank supporters.

What do you ask
a dreamer
before he passes
knowing that
dead men’s dreams
cannot outlast
greed driven schemes.
 Jan 2020
Graff1980
The skeptic in me
hears and reads
his works patiently,
but responds
with a despondent
acceptance,
cause the reader believes
the fallacies
of a faith
that have long
eluded me
due to my
stumbling,
humbling
rationality.
 Jan 2020
CJ Sutherland
There are times in life
When
You are silent
Yet
The words are working
Themselves
Out
Until the day
You
Can set them
Free
The deeper the issues
The longer
the
Silence
I’m not ready
Yet
I’m here
Breathing, hurting
Taking a pause
 Jan 2020
Graff1980
Techno distractions
stifles purposeful actions
creating dopamine addicts
who insist,
they cannot miss
a single instance,

that they cannot
disengage and face
a silent moment
with the human race.

Mental fog
flowing in
fast following
a fear of missing
by giving in
to the regeneration
of sleeping.

So, the population slows
their potential growth
and becomes a
herd of heavily
caffeinated, but sedated
children who evacuated
the star trek seat
of hopeful dreams
and scientific schemes.
Those drops of you
slid down my throat
Toward the entrails (where I always felt you)
like rain down a repository of truth

This Holy Hamster Wheel of the undefinable,
indefatigable, attraction...
I have no choice but to chase the unattainable

no decision but to drink that chalice
her
Aegean eyes, and text lullabies
made a mockery of free will

pull close to me, my pleasant fiction
sweet sweat and
*** smells, those love spells, languished in submission
 Jan 2020
Graff1980
So, I guess
I committed
to a friendship
with a ghost.

We used to
talk and text
for most
of the day,
play word games
and engage
in deep thought
connections.

Maybe there was
subtext on your end
but I was certain
we were just friends.

Even if
I wanted more
than friendship
from this
long distance
it was worth
a little hurt.

So, I did not suspect
that it would be you
who up and left.

I had no clue
that you would vanish
and my heart would be
permanently unglued.

What an idiot,
such a fool
and even now
I still try to
reach out to you.

All I get
is echoes in
an empty canyon
from a one time
internet companion.
 Jan 2020
muteD
A mother’s touch is
suppose to be tender,
one you would lean into.
But, instead
I would flinch.
Not for fear of any physical pain
she could cause me
but only because
she never touches me.

“you are really damaged”
21 years of searching for
a mother’s love
will do that to you.
Searching for that missing piece
and hoping that if you do everything
she wants and everything
you can possibly do to help her
that maybe,
just maybe,
you’ll finish the puzzle and
she’ll love you.
Which is absurd because
she won’t
and she can’t.
How can a mother love her children
when she knows of no love herself?

Cat and mouse..
A game I’ve always hated
but a game I know all too well.
because she always flaunts
what she knows I want
right in my face.
She knows what I crave
and how to make me weak.
My one true weakness,
Family.
Well, the idea of one
because I have never had one before.
A family to call mine?
One that would love me unconditionally
and honestly?
The universe has
a sense of humor after all
and it’s Me.
My whole life I’ve been looking for the love only a mother can provide.. needless to say, that search is over and I have turned up empty handed.
 Jan 2020
Graff1980
Its been a strange life
and there’s hole in my memory,
but when I die, I hope
you will remember me.

The scars on my body
were from the fight
to not visit this cemetery,
cause life is hard
but dying is ******* scary.

As I was working
I was always a little wary,
people are messed up
and it gets really hairy.

But I tried to be the kind of guy
who went out of his way
to be kind and nice.
I wasn’t looking for
a great big reward
but I hope people realize
no one is perfect
and sometimes it took work
to not be a great big ****.

So, as I pass this last slapshot,
push forward with my best
sports metaphor
cause I always admired
the struggle it took
to strive higher
and inspire the fighter
in this lonely writer.

I guess what I meant by this mess
of poetic rambling and internal distress
is remember me
when I am deceased.
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