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Sing me a song
I'll tell you a secret
Whisper the words quietly
I will hum  you  a song

Write me a poem
I will lend you some ink
Can't wait
I have writers block
 Mar 2021
Mike Hauser
I often hide behind
The poetry I write
If you only knew
What I was going through

You might not come to grips
Or even come to like
This poet here
That keeps on fooling you

In and out of seasons
This reasoning of mind
Who's to say
What is false or true

Warmer comes the weather
Colder stays the heart
With straight face
No one has a clue

As I press pen to paper
In another roundabout
Way of making
Rhyming words for you

This whole time hiding behind
Theses simple words I write
Where no one has a clue
Of what I'm really going through
Boring lockdown
Cant do the things
That we used to do
See family
have coffee with friends

Boring lockdown
I think am about to have a meltdown
What can I do
To keep busy
Because I'll just go insane
Someone give a clue what to do
It's no funny
Being glued to the house
with just the blinking telly to watch
Cupboard love
I sigh my wasteline has stretched an inch or too.
Please give something to do
I need some inspiration or too
a plan to st some things in motion
I need a goal to to sort my frustration.
 Jan 2021
Mike Hauser
With the day after Christmas
We return to the normality
Of me not looking at you
And you not talking to me

With hands deep in our pockets
Holding tight the spare change
Where we don't loose what little we've got
Or give too much away

Where all that is seen
Is the blind destiny
As I climb over you
On the rung of what's in it for me

With the day after Christmas
We're back to where we were
Not trying to be
Such good boys and girls

Where a grudge I unwrap
And think bad about you
Wait a minute that
Was the day before too

Where we take peace on Earth
And good will towards men
And pack it away
For another year

Where the Government
Sends us back to the war
With no earthly idea
Of what we're fighting for

Where we don't listen
To the cries of the children
As all of this happens
The day after Christmas
 Jan 2021
Nat Lipstadt
for Harlon Rivers

the river potion,
the river portent,
the river potent

it is all of these and not one

he is bank sided,
observing the false idols,
the image mirrored
in the glass of the river

transfigured molecularly
he becomes something ferried frothily, forcefully

as if a twig
or a small thing of human manufacture,
an object tossed up airborne-repeatedly

his poetry:
the clash of particles at the many junctions
of objects and water, eddies and the currents,
ceaselessly circumnavigating,  
searching revisionary pathways

but randomized,
prisoner of the flows,
servant to the wind's directives and the
earths magnetic indivisible undulating waves

this life,
its unsteady gait, 
the irreverent wavering of drunkenness
resultant from potent potions,
portents of inopportune position

in him,
my own histories, 
my poetic recordings
also become
water borne,
replayed back for me,
for erasure, censure, closure
and rededication

this River
is a tapestry,
a torn map,
drawn on broken shards
of slivered water,
living with all the others

but we,
are the untitled,
are the un-entitled,
and he is the

Oct. 20, 2016

harlon is one of the best poets here
if you are new to his writing, be sure to tell him honestly what you think...

his work can be found under  
Uncover him, and discover yourself within


Harlon Rivers:
my personal call sign, Poseidon
Poseidon was very fitting with Harlon River,
due to the symbolic nature of the water in their names.
I have only read few of this gentleman's work,
But I can assure you his work is very much a gift to the audience,
And like Poseidon that gift is fire to humanity.
Dawn of  Lighten
and of course<*****/
Isolation caused loneliness
Pandamic became a case of hundreds
But mental health issues
Over ride virus
Now we've have a pandamic of mental health issues
Caused by
The after affects of lockdown
Job losses
Family breakdown
Violent abusive relationship s
Gonna take more than a vacation to cure a broken generation.
 Dec 2020
Francie Lynch
I was sound asleep. Work tomorrow

Tuesday, December 9, 1980. 6:30 A.M.

Alarm on. Out and into shower.
Shave. Can't hear radio.
Getting dressed, and in the background's playing, Imagine.
Then Wheels, Beautiful Boy, Help, I Should Have Known Better.
And the news sinks in. And I have to go teach Grade 6 English
and read Curious ******* George to four classes of Kindergartens and Grade ones.
And, I'm alone in my new house, in a small town called Aylmer (population 5,000).
My wife is away during the week at University, and I hate my job,
and he's decaying on some slab as I read to twenty-five five year olds. Some of these kids will get to know and love his work. So will their kids and grandkids. I know. Like Mozart.

Tuesday, December 9, 1980. 10:00 P.M.

Me, Johnny Walker, and the turntable going round and round, like his wheels.
What a talent. What a waste.
 Dec 2020
grumpy thumb
Bah humbug it's Christmas
Time to panic and purchase extra ****
Time for adverts to hype kids to pester parents to scavenge shelves. Time for painful smiles to be painted and pretend all is well as kin folk gather.
Worry about bedding, and seating and gravy boats and tangled lights and sellotape and hiding spaces they want to sink into.
Time for the lonely to feel isolated and the happy to be oblivious.
Time for excess and ** ** **. Christmas songs relentless grinding through bones while millions go without.
Time for charity boxes to rattle because governments ignore.
Time for hangovers and walks of shame.
Devouring more than is needed. Consumed by the season's abused meaning.
Then once done and discarded we have January, Billuary ready to ****** up the spoils.
And the New Year foolishness of resolutions, and lose weight, get back in shape, sales and sales and holiday dreams until the old valentines rolls in, then Paddy's day and Easter, then pressure for the perfect beach ***. It goes on chipping away and chipping and chipping.
Yes I'm grumpy
People's implusive addiction's
Be  burdensome on our shoulders
The bad fruits of lockdown

The fruit of the spirit
 Aug 2020
Mike Hauser
In crazy times these days I find
A word I often use
When forced on me these sufferings
In todays to-do's

So don your masks and your name tags
In this new faze of meet and greet
The word in hand if need be said

With no simple rhyme nor heart-felt reason
To all that's going on
My guess is it's just in keeping
With this societal breakdown

When common sense loses its essence
And everything smells fishy
I've said it before and I'll say it again

What comes out of people's mouths
These days is quite insane
Not taking time out to think about
The way they are behaving

I've about had enough to the point of done
Someone please stick a fork in me
Have you not heard it's all absurd
Seriously! Cra! Cra!
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