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 Oct 2014
r
Low and wide
against the tide

A partisan -
a part of him
un - fascistionable

Poppa's boat -
- Pablo's mujer

Pilar -
for us her story
well told

- For whom
the bell tolls.

r ~ 10/19/14
\¥/\
|   hemingway
/ \
 Oct 2014
ryann
brick   laying  word  masons

work like Hemingway.

one    clean,    clear    word

after     the    other

creates  one  true  sentence,

then    two,    unti­l

you’re  drenched in  sweat.

a     day’s     work

done.
 Sep 2014
Carl Joseph Roberts
Don't Let Go

We listen to the evening news
Hear things we can't believe
Get up and change the channel
And pretend we didn't see

The events unfold around us
And we lock ourselves inside
Thinking that behind closed doors
It won't effect our lives

We watch as others struggle
And turn the other way
Tell ourselves someone else
Will come and save the day

Just when did we stop caring
No longer lend a hand
Forget to show compassion
The love for fellow man

What happened to forgiveness
Where did the pride of giving go
We must find a way to turn back time
And make sure we don't let go

Don't Let Go


Carl Joseph Roberts
If you like add it to a couple of your collections.
 Jun 2014
Mike Hauser
Charles Bukowski ate my girlfriend
He started with her head
Fiddled with her like finger food
Putty in his hands

Charles Bukowski took my girlfriend
Slapped her hard upside the face
Now she likes it *****
So this poets been replaced

I'd like to say so long Charlie
As far as I'm concerned
You can hit the literary highway
Never to return

Charles Bukowski took my girlfriend
And showed her a good time
As I'm watching from the shallow end
Of my kiddie pool of simple rhyme

Charles Bukowski ate my girlfriend
Chewed her up then spit her out
Now that good for nothing Charlie
Is all she talks about
 Jun 2014
Sjr1000
Started with
Happy New Year
spelled out
in rails of *******
carefully measuring
which letter
was largest
each of us got one
you
remember.

Carolyn
came with me
she was dressed in red
she figured that bowl
of quualudes
was
all meant for her.

The gang was all there
passing out gifts
rusted out back scratchers
found in the garage
no kids yet.

Sheraton spoke in mysteries
his wife Jane
hustled me behind the shed
Joaquin
was  drunk on his knees again
screaming for ***** and poetry
Patti
had recently found recovery
and I was spending my time
trying to convince her to drink.
The party didn't begin
until
Mary and Stuart arrived
our personal gurus
took us all
one step higher.
Olivia and Aaron
had
much to hide.
Davey
was
the ring master.

We
didn't have to go to the circus
we were the circus.

Little Feat
were still willing
the Dobbie Brothers
in high pitch
were still chillin
the Dead played amazing riffs
Bob Dylan was street legal
the Boss was depressed
the
sound track to our lives.

I gotta job
working in a drug free program
all the staff
sat in a VW van
having a staff meeting
and
passing a joint.

Carolyn and I
kinda got married
had a big party
I knew I was in trouble when
she launched herself
on the bed of gifts
and tried to swim
up stream.
I
learned all the messages
of
Alanon
in one brief flash

Everything passes
everything changes
we all know that.

I got a real job I wasn't qualified for
missed a deadline at school
tossed out on my ***
no 26 year old
Ph.D.
for me
just another suicide
on the horizon
saw my grandmother
and
the white light
but
also at the job
met the future mother
of my children
and of course
she was to be
my
future ex-wife.

When Carolyn found this out
she
brought
a gun to my work
to
tell me what she
thought about that
it ended all right
on that night.

I lived in Laurel Canyon
in a beautiful garden
on Wonderland Avenue
John Holmes
was my neighbor
bigger than life.

1978

It ended as it started
with *******
the big chill crowd
together again
one last look back at the year
in
Super 8
Davey's traditional dance as historian
for the year that passed
one last look
and
farewell.
I've rearranged the names to protect the innocent and departed.
let's not forget poetry is truth and fiction.
I guess this is now officially a series
1988 can't be far behind.
See 1968 if you want to get the beginning of the story.
 Jun 2014
Stephen E Yocum
Oh look, look again on what we see,
Another war on ABC and CNBC TV.
Black hooded thugs waving AK-47’s
Jam Packed into little Pickup Trucks,
Moving in, onto Bagdad street,
It all looks so very familiar.

What is it with we Human Beings?
Why do we continue to do such things?
Back in my day it was Viet Nam,
The suits made a case for war,
And we young answered the call.
3 million Vietnamese and over 58,000
Of us died in that mess,
All for what,
A Civil War?
Not our business.
Profits for Corporations,
Big and small?

Who are we to Police the World?
Who appointed us to that dire role?

Then it was “Desert Storm”
And we mobilized all over again.
Rolled over the sands and those
Third World people,
As if they were not even there.
It’s said 100,000 of them died.
But the guy that pulled their Strings,
That **** fool survived,
To play again yet another day.

The peoples in the Middle East
Hated us for our intervention,
And began to sing songs of revenge.

Fast forward 10 years of hate and
Resentment and some of them
Flew our own planes into our cities,
Killed our non combatant people
Without so much as a warning,
And absolutely no remorse.
Stealing our national innocents.

Excuses and lies were made,
Fingers pointed in the wrong direction,
Now it was us plotting revenge.
WMD’s in the hands of a Mad Man
We were told,
“Get him before he can use his missiles.
Him and them,
That attacked our Cities,
Killed our people.
How dare they do such a thing?"

Once again our young men and women
Answered the call.
And once again over a 100,000 of that
Dictator’s people died, along with
Far too many of our own children.
But the “Lie” made some big American
Corporations rich beyond belief.
And gasoline went to over
$4.00 a gallon and is still ascending.

Oh look, on further study and investigation,
That guy and his country had no WMD’s
And indeed may not have actually been,
Behind The Twin Towers tragic end.
Afganstan “They” now too pointed,
That’s the backward 3ed world place,
Harboring a rich Saudi guy named Bin.
He and his gang, they are the ones,
Run ‘em to ground and break their bones.
Suspend our laws and stretch the truth,
Get it done, forget the price,
Break some rules and ignore,
Our Constitution and even our laws.
Behind closed doors, they whisper,
“Need more men, mobilize the Reserves.”
“The little people will never tolerate a Draft”.

How many people die this time?
We don’t even know the price.
It’s not yet done over there.
Money spent over 3 Trillion,
More than spent to fight
The entire Second World War.
Yes I said “Trillion”
Now how many new schools,
Roads and bridges here,
At home would that buy I wonder?

We left Bagdad declaring things “done”.
Installed yet another Corrupt,
Puppet Army and Government.
Like Viet Nam,
Our Generals all said we’d won.

Be it an Iraq or Afghanistan,
Who can possibly rule a nation of Tribes.
Of people that can’t even agree on the
Same shared religion belief.
People that hate each other more,
Then they even hate us.

No one but an iron ****** ****** Dictator,
A Tribal Chief who enforces his rule with
Corruption, Brutality and Death
Can rule such people.
Too long ingrained is their
Mode of hating and living.
Too clouded and old
Their desire for revenge
And corruption.

So add it all up, too many deaths,
Trillions of dollars spent.
And in the end, has returned to
Where it all started again.

Political deceit,
Poor judgment,
Or Personal greed?
Why do our leaders
Keep making the same mistakes?
I don’t have the answer.

If I don’t end up in Gitmo,
Boarded, with water in my mouth,
Or locked up in the Pen,
For expressing my own opinion,
Perhaps things aren’t yet as bad
As things could possibly get.

I do however regret that all these years
With we little people answering the call,
With all the fighting, waste,
Needless ****** death and all,
It seems to have been for nothing more,
Than the egos and stupidly,
Of a few rich and high born men,
Big Corporation profits,
And lustful greed for the all mighty dollar.
This bar has seen the past as it has been washed clean by today.
Known the scars of fights past lingered in the moment only to  see it replay.

Old friends and past faces we've known together so many years now  I stand alone.
This bar is part of my soul as a ghost I remain long after my life and these doors come to a close.

To the raised glass and closing time dance .
Are waters have seen many a storm tomorrow will be no different my friends.  

Amber the whiskey gold held to light the pint glasses perfect hew .
Time has left us all fragmented time breaks the soul ,time is all that is the history of me and you.

A toast to the nights they paint magic without canvas my thoughts a evergreen signs of neon cast the best ******* shadows my dear.

This bar stands eternal a ghost as myself .
The fog holds mystery but none for you .

Closing time has come .

Cherish your thoughts for it's all we truly ever own my friends .
 Jun 2014
Francie Lynch
I don't have pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis.
I'll stay away from Yellowstone.
If one's asthmatic in the Eifel region
You don't pronounce the "P."
This won't **** me.

I don't have COPD.
Everyone coughs in blue smoke.
My throaty itch won't **** me.
I won't constrict and choke.

I don't have an infectious disease,
Despite my personality.
I run for shelter in acid rain.
I drink water with ice cubes,
And spray my green out back.
As much as I hate to, I avoid rusty nails.
*** is safe... and at a distance.
Despite being repeatedly told to,
I never eat ****.
The great imitator
Is a snivelling mime.
If I'm bitten, I recognize the marks.
The erupting of the ring of fire won't **** me,
but perhaps I was precocious
To drop the "P" in
Pneumonoultramicroscopicscilicovolcanoconiosis.

I haven't succumb to animal flues,
I stay clear from the bars.
I donate to the SPCA,
Bet on ponies or the odds of SARS.

I don't have meningitis.
I like lights and loud music.
If I get the night sweats,
I turn down my electric blanket.

I haven't the minor or greater pox,
I spurn comparisons.

According to the scoop and scope,
I ascend and descent C free.
But the time spent on Referrals
Might be the death of me.

I don't have botulism.
My smile still concaves down.
Curling convex above it,
A condescending frown.

I'm not a *****.
I feel every poke and like.
My digits number twenty...
Twenty one.
My glasses are smudge free.
If anything I see too well.

Alcoholism can't **** me.
Alcohol can.

I haven't cardio entropy,
But I'd be remiss
To dismiss
The wise counsel Oz gave me:
"Hearts can never be made practical until they can be made unbreakable."
So true.
So true!

Anyway, none of the above will get me.

But, I do have what you have.
The young and grown.
The able and ill.
A hand.
A sweeping hand.
A second hand
Setting those infectious nonogerms
Like diamonds
In my Time-x.
 May 2014
Sjr1000
I
actually feel sorry for him
my
extension
my
avatar

I
wake him
every morning
no matter how sleepy he is
get him out of bed before sunrise
while I hide
deep inside.

He arises
to reply
respond
put out
and
deny.

A hook through the nose
to
catch the bucks
and
cast him out into that
old main stream
where he does his perfect avatar thing
he dances jigs
he placates
he sings
he says please and thank you
can I get you anything
the fingers
waving
at
him
no longer mean a thing.

A master of the palms up
he
can
always say
"who? Not me."

And
when his day is done
I
reel him in
remove
what ever little bucks
he
caught

Sit him down
in
front of the t.v.
gin and juice
and
dancing images too.

Give him a sleeping pill
so he sleeps so sound
no dreams
to
disturb
his life
and routine
a
brown nosed role
in
the
consumer machine.

I
slip
him
into bed
and
sometimes in the late night
I
hear
him weeping.

In
the morning
I
get him up
to
do
the same **** thing .
Thanks to the singer-song writer Todd Snider for the phrase "fishing in that old main stream"
 Apr 2014
r
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 Mar 2014
g clair
You are here
in the light
in the darkest
of the night
and you surround me
You surround me

I was lost
but was found
wandered off again
but you came out and found me
You surround me

speak softly
tell me not to be afraid or to consider
any other way, that which is bitter
keep me from religious law and letter
in You, all things work together for the better
for You are Love, simply Love.

not alone
never was
but I struggle
to be what
they have expected
and rejected~
once again,
not enough
while these words come off the cuff
there's something waiting~
hesitating

speak softly
tell me not to be afraid or to consider
any other way , that which is bitter
keep me from religious law and letter
in You, all things work together for the better
for You are Love, simply Love.
A song written for my guy, Jesus Christ. I see the relationship a true believer has with Christ as a marriage. Marriage on earth is a reenactment of the love God has for us. That is what is going on here. Biblical and proven to be true within my own life which has been quite a trip. My love for the one who stayed faithful when I was out looking for something else.  That's all.
 Mar 2014
betterdays
here i am...
nailed to the cross....
of elephant hide.... memories
.....walking the slack rope
balanced..... between
if ..and ....why..
used to be...... watering
a ducks back .....was making
....a water feather slide
but now....... it just *****
up my equalibruimal tide......
making sense now?....
...........not ****** likely..
spinning words....
..on empty tequila shot glasses
  .....while student one
and student fourteen .....are
making moons with they *****
......so the mouse squeaks
memory roars......been here b4
time to climb.............down....
........off the cross.....jump on... .......off the wire
..let it go ......was just.... teenage .........angst v desire

walk away  now...get some water.....
..go home get to bed ....or the morning will be simply .....hangover.....
.....slaughter..... city .. rimed
with lime ...and salt.. and   tequila .....worm-fed fears...
so....listen ...well  ....to the squeek of the mouse......
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