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 Aug 2017
wordvango
steel iron rubber  plastic manpower
cement pavement concrete  
oil gasoline petroleum
adulated back in those days
this wide open nation suddenly
a place the normal family explored
Detroit
my home town
steered the rudder
to the expansion
until the cement highways spread
from coast to coast and the boost to our economy from the
second world war
receded
then
the nation became lazy
the world is more
marketed  on the 1's and 0's  now which we developed
yet
the cellular
the thing we got
caught sleeping
how come the third world has better
cell phone and internet coverages than the U.S.
And Canada a healthy health care market.
I can see a sea rising and if
only the top float
there is going to be a whole lot of drowning.
We Need for if the sea rises to raise the all of us up.
I see progress now like scenes from the 1910';s
20's  where the low sink and the rich float
we must wake up
or again go through
quite a horrific depression
make up your mind America. Be blind and stupid and sink.
Or make it new again.
 Aug 2017
Janae Bello
You see i have these little spurts,
all at one time ideas come and it almost hurts,
can't get to them all which makes it the worst,
so I have to do all this work.

Write it down as fast as I can,
breaking my hands
like a downward spiral
you never know when it gonna stop.

Like an elephant in the room
fat and crushing
taking in all the air
everywhere and nowhere.

For days it coils within and waits to be set free
and I just bleed,
bleed, and bleed.
Knowing this is just what I need.

I flow and flow like I'm at a place with no gravity
true travesty
no reality.

Then it ends
out of battery.
 Aug 2017
wordvango
is
I come home from a hard day of manual labor
pop a top
go through the notifications
and see
real people somewhere out there
in the stream
just as ****** up as I am
and they
plussed me
took the time to comment
they wrote some great poetry
I go to do what I can
to let them
know that someone just like them
****** up alone worried
but awesome
saw their works their
heart strings and visions
their open wounds their hurts
their
words telling me
I am not the only one
out there in the stream all ****** over alone worried
angst word filled touched
by their words their cries their tears;
in the end we all drown;
for now we paddle
keep our heads up
Does the time make us fools or simply were we always so to begin with .
Sketches faded now remain a ghost that haunts only the artist and nobody else.

The clock strikes midnight, but time stands still in this illusion of borrowed hours

Will there be a moments peace within the turmoil which ever lingers upon this day
The hours are toxic to a idle mind.

Falling in a routine and a favorite vice the blade still glimmers even after all its use .

We always find misery easily where others just themselves.

Voices speak to me of freedom
But freedom is not something I desire
I beg and plead with you
But hell
what do you care
I'm lost
But don't treat me like a fool
A fools freedom in your smile
Is not freedom at all

As I walk now past empty gardens that once knew life of summers embrace .

Winters chill is a empty ended promise .
Now simply scorched is the earth that does remain.

The clock upon the wall simply keeps time we only hold memories and nothing more


Life has been a listless game of joys and sorrows
I've spent my joys too quickly and they nowadays spread themselves thin upon the stage which is my life
Sorrowful me that lingers on the edge of reason
May reason be the saving of my  sanity and not its end
Rai has been a great friend through the years and it was a honor to do this co write with her .
And for someone who had not co written before I swear she could have fooled me .

Thank you my friend
 Jul 2017
Kelly Rose
Little dreams
Tiny wants
And simple pleasures
Often get me through
The dark days of life

Life’s journey is made
Up of so many steps
And I dance through the day
When life is drenched with
Possibilities

But, it is
That soothing cup of Earl Grey
That feeling of clean
Or the desire to learn something new
Those little pleasures, wants, and dreams
That restart my engine
When it stalls
And I’m caught in the pouring rain

It is those little things
That allow me to
See beyond “lost gods and howling dogs”
To brighter climes
With endless skies
Of hopes and dreams
Realized

Kelly Rose
© July 27, 2017
“lost gods and howling dogs” from Phil Roberts’ ‘In My Mind’
 Jul 2017
Nat Lipstadt
Hello Poetry


Yearned.
Ached.
For so long, for a community,
That values the ineffable wonder
Of a wordsmith's creations, intended to
Repair himself and the world with bullets of
Verses.

And here you are.

Like/Dislike, matters not,
So long as we value each others work,
And the the heart echoes within
What the eyes read and the mouth whispers.

The array and disparity of your names,
A delight,
Each name a poem
In its own right.

So I resubmit a question for your consideration,
The answer is now known,
The answer is all of us.
May 2013
---------------------------------------------------------


­Who's Who In Poetry  



T'is a curious thing,
these verbal peddlers, tribal members,
famously well known to no one,
perhaps at best,
a kindred few, fellow-travelers.

Each a troop,
bloodied, purple hearted,
word-wounded,
anonymous unto each other,
yet all bonded intimates,
in solitary struggle united,
yet sea-parted by the very nature
of the solitude of composition.

All poets are Cain scar-marked,
purposed for everyone to see,
a warning to rabbled boors,
imagination suppressors!

World:

cherish these flawed ones,
gentle these frail but gritty,
the Lord has tasked them
to be prophets in one tongue untied,
undo the strife of Babel's division.

Poets!

Be the harpooners
of the unexamined life,
with unfettered rhapsody,
comfort caress us,
exhort the loopy
to light their illusionary candles,
turn the sad eyed lowlanders
into crinkly eye-lined smilers.

With clinical observation,
dense and demanding,
make us laugh at
the comedy of our situation,
teach us our free-to-see peep show,
reveal, unseal us
with **** empathy!

For who's who in poetry
is all of us!
saviors and failures,
recorders and decoders,
night writers of the oohs and aahs
of dreams and nightmares.

When this poet cannot,
no longer, anymore,
tastes his poems upon your lips,
keep your poems within his heart,
then he breathes no more,
and becomes one who was,
yet is,
because of you,
in poetry.
---------------
Postscript (1/25/17)

Even more true today, than four years ago.
Thank You.
a revised, minor modestly different, version was published in Feb 2016 as
Orphans and Poets, Peddlers & Members https://hellopoetry.com/poem/1564122/orphans-and-poets-peddlers-members/


and then finally another different variant, more personal was published in
Aug 2016 as
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/1734088/the-harpooner-of-the-unexamined-life


the harpooner of the unexamined life

"Be the harpooner of the unexamined life,
with unfettered rhapsody, comfort caress us,
exhort the loopy to light their illusionary candles,
turn the sad eyed lowlanders into crinkly eye-lined smilers."

writ many years past, just another dusted off phrasing,
composed from life's lecture notes, collected by eyes tired
from the hazing,
eyes wearied by the addict-strong,
incessant observational needing,
of celebrating the loopy,
they who make this planet
capable of laughing at itself,
a helping habit for mutual survival...

should you spot a man ungainly wrought,
weighted down by a harpoon cross
cursed  'pon his Cain-marked back,
you need not move to the other side,
'tis only a make-believe poet,
with his recording device,
seizing your rhapsodies to rhyme,
his collected artifacts, your crinkly smiles,
his meat, his metier, his chosen career,
a comfort caresser of your illusions into
a shapely sculpture of words for you to keep,
a token of your now examined worth,
a celebration for the keeping...
___________-

special thanks to those who rediscovered these poems recently and brought them back to me for refreshing cherishing these old word friends.
 Jul 2017
SøułSurvivør
Answered prayer! God can change the hearts! And he is the Great Physician.

My dad is back in his rest home! They've released him from the hospital, a week before they said he would be out. He does NOT have to go to a nursing home where he would be housed like cordwood. We were very much afraid that he would be miserable. And he would have been. But he's back where he can garden. He has some plants growing in his room. He can do the things that he used to do! The doctors are astounded. They held out no hope of this happening. None of the administration seemed to want him to stay in his rest home. they said it would be too "dangerous" for him! I believe God worked on their hearts so they can see that his longevity is dependent on his activity. He's always been a very active, intellectual man. This will be a testimony to him of God's power. I think he was resigned to his fate. But he had so many people praying that he would be put back in to the home where he's staying now, and he knows it. He survived cancer due to the prayers of the Believers. Cancer free for 7 years! Now this! It's difficult to doubt anymore!

Thank you all for your prayers and good thoughts! You made a tangible difference and my father's life was in the balance. And you blessed me immeasurably. May you be blessed with the blessings that you have bestowed upon us!

☆♡☆♡☆ HALLELUJAH! ☆♡☆♡☆
I'm on the phone telling all my friends... I won't be on site tonight. But, Lord willing, I'll be back reading tomorrow ♡

LOVE YOU ALL!

♡ Catherine
 Jul 2017
Born
Ugh
Not again
You have that pensive look
the slurred algebraic expression
that algorithmic stench
Molten into confusing matrix
Geometrically weirdly shaped

Please shut up
I can't take it anymore
Your meagerly written poems
the frustrating metaphors
baked with suffocating syllables
dude, what the heck is a pensive look


There's a huge probability it won't
delve out any logical statistics.
the equations alone will alienate you
the calculus involved is far ahead of your time
just stick with trigonometric thoughts
C'mon you already know the plane of your thighs are sophisticated*

is that a compliment
Painting splendid imagery
that nobody else understands
a poet lurking in words
always writing  
Unfiltered intricately worded poems
 Jul 2017
SøułSurvivør
... for not being on site as much as I probably should be. Some of you may know I have been going through some very difficult times. I do not write about these to elicit sympathy. I only want understanding and compassion. Thank you for reading this entire post.

My father was recuperating well, but it's now flagging in his resolve to live. He has almost entirely lost his hearing. He's losing his eyesight. And now he cannot talk. He had to have a trach put in because his vocal cords were frozen and he couldn't breathe. He requires 24-hour care. He cannot return to the high-functioning home where he was staying before. He will now have to go into a nursing home.

It is very hard to witness this. He is a survivor of the battle of Okinawa. He is a survivor of stage 3 throat cancer. Chemotherapy and radiation treatment at the age of 85. He is now 92. I just don't know if he can survive this. I just need to remember he lived a long rich life.

The biggest problem I'm having is that I know my father is not prepared for eternity. He refuses to even discuss the concept of God. He's always been an Atheist. He is a chemist. A scientist. And he was hurt very badly by religion when he was growing up. I have sown seeds, though. Perhaps the Lord will come to him in a dream or vision. I just don't know...

No matter what happens I am prepared. It is just very difficult, and I cannot concentrate very well. Also I and spending a lot more time in my spiritual practices, so please forgive me if I'm not on the site as much as I could be. It does not mean I don't love you... there are people that are on this site who I pray for on a daily basis. I blanket this site with prayer. There are some who might not believe in the power of this, but I have seen miracles happen right here on this site. A young man was cured of malaria just a couple of weeks ago. Prayer is the most loving and powerful thing anyone can do for another person.
I DO IT FOR YOU ALL.

Thank you for reading.

♡ Catherine
A rose, they say, will have its thorn,
Which cannot harm nor ****,
It only serves to give its bloom
A scent that's sweeter still.

SøułSurvivør
(C) 12/23/2002

It's 1:30am. I must sleep. Goodnight! :)
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