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 Dec 2019
muteD
Tic, tic, tic
BOOM.
Ticking.
I am a ticking time bomb
and I’ve been doused in gasoline.
I feel like I’ve been snagged
on a fishing line
and I’m being reeled in.
A fish hook in my heart?
My heart is liable to drain.
Fully.
Have you seen a drained heart?
Empty.
It looks empty
about as empty as I feel.
This is all over the place.
I guess it is true what they say,
you lose your mind before you lose
your life..
which would mean
Death should be honored.
I am close to Death and
Death is close to me.
What do you think the title should be?
 Dec 2019
Graff1980
Let’s keep it
simple and clean,
no glass shards
with sharp edges
to pierce our hearts,
no porcelain skins
ready for the
rupturing
as all that is within
comes spilling
out.

Let’s sit silent
in our sub city
of social misfits,
so, no one talks to
anyone else who
can relate to you
and what you are
going through.

Let’s forget
that there is
something there
underneath the hair
and that shaggy beard,
pass the tired eyes
haunted with
loss and fear.

Let’s just
have toast,
sit and roast
this material world
and all of those
little lost ghosts
who will not
return here.
After all its
a wild world
and I can’t save
everyone.

Let’s just give in
to social media’s
mad messaging
that says we are
just cogs in the machine
working
until we die.

Why would we
ever try to be
a decent human being
when we could
just continue
sleep living?
 Dec 2019
Graff1980
She is a beautiful echo
from so long ago,

a strange smiling face
that I no longer know.

Still, her presence presents
the emergence
of old feeling,

stirrings from dead synapses
reviving a past that is
something I didn’t even know
I missed.

Almost twenty years
since we were close friends
working the weekends
at Long John Silver
slash A and W.

A similar smile
beckons back
old feelings that
I thought were dead.
  
I know this is just
in my head
but we agreed
when we were forty
if we were single
we’d be together.

I am almost there
and she is right behind me.
I know this is a feckless daydream
but to live in it
I’d gladly go on sleeping
keeping the hopeful heart
of a younger me
returning
in love with
someone
I haven’t seen
in over fifteen
years.
 Dec 2019
Graff1980
Reflecting,
I sit dissecting
the poetry
of my past.

Organic
as it is,
it is like
a blast
of stale gas
from a painful
interval.

Familiar feelings
seems slightly
distorted
by the nightly
interludes
between
the two dudes,
me of now
and him
of then.

The work is good,
and I am slightly
plagued by jealousy
because my writing
is stalling,

but the falling
in love
and hurting because
that love drug
is not a sustainable addiction
was a terrible affliction,
which I do not wish
to revisit.
 Dec 2019
Graff1980
What matters to the heart,
is it matters that spark
a hard and sharp stark
emotional response?

Is it love
that moves most of us
or is it the other detritus,
the chaos that rumbles
inside of us?

Is it the anxiety
that we are missing out on
what the rest of society
is doing or how
everyone is getting along?

Is it terror
that drives
our night lives
into bright lights
in hopes of
escaping
death’s gaping
jaws?

Is it anger
that puts us in danger
of overloading
and exploding
our rage load
as we lose control
and destroy
everything we know?

Is it pointless
to ponder this,
till, I am wasted
and restless
no longer wanting
to express this
or anything at all?
 Dec 2019
Carlo C Gomez
She enters the room
A notorious hornblower
Preening to no one
In particular

Dress out of fashion
But the flesh is current
It seems cleavage
Is today's calling card

The bottom line
Is flanked by dimples
And other non-essentials

Her lonely livid *****
Seek boarders
But the sign outside
Claims no vacancy

Don't give in to the hype
She's nothing special

Go home to your wife
And learn to give
More often than you get
 Nov 2019
Graff1980
I will not get to hear
or hold my dear
because it is clear
that my deepest fear
has become reality.

I wasted so much time
pretending to be fine
until I had fooled
everyone and myself.

But when the night falls
and the lightning crashes
when my breath
barely catches
and I am force to see
warm flesh go cold
of once young body
that is now broken
and old.

Then I will wish
I could turn back time,
take all the lessons
that where sown
and grown
in my maturing mind
and value those who
I wasn’t ready to lose.
 Nov 2019
Graff1980
I could be
a myriad
of mystical things,
abstract creatures
from your romantic dreams,
a culmination of your
creative schemes
as you unsew the seam
that seems
to keep your sweet sanity
stitched to this
harsh reality.

I could be
the escape hatch
unlatched
so that
you can get back
to that deep hole,
falling into
wonderland
then on again
to OZ and
Never Never
Land.

I could be a
great friends
and later when
you go looking
for him
I could be
the lover you seek.

Or, I could just be
a cold vagary
of nothing
never lasting
simply passing
on into the
the emptiness
eternity brews.
 Nov 2019
Traveler
It's not actually a flower
It's a painting of a flower
No definition beyond
The flower's we see
Out on the lawn
Merely an image
Paint fumes replaced
The charmers scent
That once
"Meaninglessly"
Drew our mates

An orchestrated opus
Of wayward heart
Galaxies of lyric-less
Wayward stars
Glimmering
From who knows
Afar
Meaningless poetry
Is all we are

Why do morning dove
Insist to sing
Meaningless songs
Birds of prey scream
Blinding beams of sunlight
Reflect off mighty seas
Blinding our eyes
Yet still we believe
What meaning has
The giant ancient trees
Majestic mountains
Purple beauties
These impressions
Of nature only define
Meaningless poetry
That beautifully rhymes
.................................
traveler tim
 Nov 2019
Vic
Just
Leave
Me
Alone
And
Let
Me
Die
Please?
A poem every day.
22-11-19
 Nov 2019
Michael Messinger
The train roars from the station
I don't have a clue where I'm going
The Amtrak whistle is blazing
The hardest part is not knowing

The cars sway back and forth
As the blooming trees blur by
I know she was always worth
Every moment I was by her side

I am just a Passenger
On the train called life
I am just a lonely rider
Leaving the dark behind

For each long mile I travel ahead
Just a frontiersman of the modern day
For every ounce of tears I shed
I seemed to get lost on the way

I can tolerate the engine smoke
But I can't erase the smell her perfume
The train has no feelings to evoke
It just snakes its way from gloom

I am just a Passenger
On the train called life
I am just a lonely rider
Heading toward the light

© 2019 Michael Messinger(All rights reserved)
 Nov 2019
Graff1980
This is a festival
where beasts feast on fools,
a dark carnival
of carnivores
and cannibals
who devour those
they see as beneath
the wealth
they were bequeathed.

This is a field of grief
and greed
where those in need
never see
a single shilling
of hope,
because those
who hold the ropes
have made a noose
out of ambitions
and fashion shows.

Welcome to the nightmare
be wary, be scared
but most of all
stay sharp
and prepared
because if you slip
and are ensnared
there will be
no secret squad
of superhumans
swooping in
to save you my friend.

There will only be
blood and gore,
shades of grey
that split the day
and bleed to black,
to take you back
to the place from which
no victim can ever
return from.
 Nov 2019
Graff1980
This poem is dedicated
to the fire strangers started
to incinerate the broken hearted,

to the flames I had to walkthrough
that charred my flesh
and barred the rest
who did not have the strength
to resist this disintegrating mess.

To the pain I overcame,
though I dare not
whisper its sacred name
for fear of having to
face that **** storm again.

This is dedicated
to the trauma
that dissected
the desiccated frame
that no worthy lover
stood to claim,
and though those
throes and woes
from which I rose
proved to be in vain
since I am still stained
by the marks
that keep me apart
from the mundane,

this is for that which
taught me not to accept
all the *******
because I know
I am worth more
than all of it.
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