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Time is worth a thousand words
Two centuries passes
I never heard from you
My heart is broken
I started to try and be
          Myself
Because I cried tears
I dried my tears
I can now live  
My own life
I will give you my time
If you call
And I won’t expect
Anything in return
Time is worth a fortune
Love is a gift
I’ll never understand
Why life turned
Out like it did
Time is worth a thousand words
 Nov 3
Mrs Timetable
I will bloom for you
If you wait
And take care of me
It will be worth it
I may only show you
A little at a time
For fear you may hurt
My petals
But wait
And cherish me
I'll full bloom
From the love
I saw the most beautiful rose today
Confronting profound consternation
The positive faces negation
But for unions that matter
Illusions must shatter
To welcome the reintegration
 Oct 28
Sarah Kruger
My notes are filled with little snippets of thought a scribble of letters, genuine but unrefined it seems that when I feel passion I lack the motivation yet when I sit down with a glass of lemonade laptop in hand and cool breeze running through my hair my mind suddenly seems to lack a single coherent thought discouragement turns the pink sugar water to mud I question how I can declare poetry my love when I have not showered it with affection in months maybe I try too hard to turn pretty what's meant to be misshapen maybe each word doesn't have to flow like a steady stream divulging the meaning of this world or the secrets in my heart maybe it's alright if a poem feels more like treading over rocks than drifting to sleep on a giant fluffy cloud maybe this is enough
 Oct 23
Nat Lipstadt
seethe ~ bubble up as a result of being boiled,

<>
sunrise was 714 am in nyc
this perfect fall day,
chilled to perfection,
a white wine of a day,
so imbibe,
only later does it
heat up up and onwards
to the temp where the
walkers/joggers/runner recite
hallelujahs and hosannas while
moving at their own chosen pace,
in a state of warm southern comfort,
never a racing

lest
the poems
now seething, boiling-burning
bubbling up inside
into the atmosphere explode!

all of these
early warming~warning inspirations,
now~expressed,
realized flickers of
original ex-impressions,
cannot be contained in
an open field unsupported,
these
breech babies each,
in a pediatric ICU,
demanding an
instantaneous airy concoction
to Earth’s atmospheric
literary intoxication

they use:
up hard, a dice roll,
who lives
who wilts,
that docs cannot but
obey
the fetus’s insistence,
many instructions,
push pull breathe,
must the. be given forthwith
through to our
servile waiting
uterine fingertips,
for we human are just be
~ings,
nurturers of
verbal artifacts
that never die

in
an~always~at~the~ready,
in service to
the great conceptual,

poetic in/justice
what happens when I walk the streets
assaulted and assailed
by rapid fire poetic insights
exploring, exploding
inside
 Oct 23
Asante'
Paint a bitter picture
with a letter full of truth.
Let it be offensive.
Let it be uncouth.
Even if it hurts me
Have your feelings be outpoured
because I'd rather be
rejected
than to simply be
ignored.
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