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 Mar 2020
Thomas W Case
I guess I shouldn't be
surprised.
In the
beginning, the women are
attracted to the light,
the writing.
But after a while,
they hate it.
They get jealous;
as if I had another
lover.
I suppose I do.
And when I'm in my stride
I don't give them the
attention that they crave and
desire.
When the words and
lines are flowing
the women seem so needy
so greedy.
I guess it's not fair that
I devote my heart to
writing--but truth be told,
they knew what they
were getting
themselves into.
I'm happy to announce the release of my new limited edition book, Rise Up Collected Short Stories and Poems, here's a link. (Just copy and paste in the address bar.)
https://www.youtube.com/redirect?event=comments&redir_token=QUFFLUhqbjRsX3laOVRVNV9GbnJiWnEzalJ2ZEdoWnZfZ3xBQ3Jtc0ttU2s0a005dWpBWGVSYV9ZN1dPNWNVMkJUWlQ3UUMyNEl4UHpHeFYzR2ppZl9Za2U0WF9lblRnaUF6OU9uSXByRHpHUGxYX21YMVRTcGY0TnNzS3F3akZLNG1tcnpfcGtEN1hoYXRrXzFGWDdoU3B4SQ&q=https%3A%2F%2Fl.facebook.com%2Fl.php%3Fu%3Dhttps%253A%252F%252Fbooksie.chainletter.io%252Fb%252F9b87c7a2-1228-4a0e-a1cd-eaedcf3bb305%253Ffbclid%253DIwZXh0bgNhZW0CMTAAAR2HWCBNpWJzF3YCJxYpx3QHVVqjC2zDBWGAYTV5Q2pFxy4c1U-uVtPvpVs_aem_Ab0letZTORF_Tpb58ibNucgfLL9aXUtPYQbDoxvEKzPn-183aXIsEU5MbEjQT4_HlWmAsUrU2xKMriL9uDIn98GL%26h%3DAT1f5xgZtipfB1LKQCtlErMTeCqWVLE38LmzWMG8rmjMRRJNwlAFkJo-ISGujrv0M1Yp6XTzLSQtpWe7PAj_K9EgfJLAqYdXWjAGeymmF2LvxzW3MpER0YXXa5FLl3iUnrW7%26__tn__%3D-UK-R%26c%5B0%5D%3DAT2MQEK-V4lhQzS8BWhV0CpE4wodA_5KnqIxlQI8qWtMIN2NI2J62ZlYgr9u4Pu2ZzVPUEA76T_CWasj6HqDPlo33jsQCtVkfutqqEQHyoJB0YQ6EQmCr0r2WqGmv5LiUCfnuzDLVNv0CXak-KJP46rdh7C3JuB_LT6CCqAGRErxtBRi8m1gTtAqGh8AeRUq
 Mar 2020
N
Why shall I stay alive if death is my fate?
 Feb 2020
Cynthia Jean
Don't believe everything
you hear.
People are being
brainwashed
by the tellers
of tales.
History teaches us
"if a lie is repeated
often enough,
people will believe it."
Let us have
ears to hear,
and eyes that see.
May our ears  and eyes
be open
to the truth.
Not just the tellers
words,
but provable facts.
We must each make an honest
search
for the truth.
Don't
let someone else
do your
thinking
for
you.
May we all
wake
up.

Cynthia Jean
copyright
February 8, 2020
 Feb 2020
Walter W Hoelbling
when your president
     old friend of yours
pardons you even before
you are legally sentenced
for assorted crimes

what do you call that?
 Feb 2020
Lawrence Hall
We pay for our restraints, strap them to ourselves
And then we wonder why there is no joy
Your ‘umble scrivener’s site is: Reactionarydrivel.blogspot.com

It’s not at all reactionary, tho’ it might be drivel.

Lawrence Hall’s vanity publications are available on amazon.com as Kindle and on bits of dead tree:  THE ROAD TO MAGDALENA, PALEO-HIPPIES AT WORK AND PLAY, LADY WITH A DEAD TURTLE, DON’T FORGET YOUR SHOES AND GRAPES, COFFEE AND A DEAD ALLIGATOR TO GO, and DISPATCHES FROM THE COLONIAL OFFICE.
 Feb 2020
Krizhe Ming
Another day soon to end

Mind thinks back
Of what new it learned
Of memories captured

Heart remembers
Emotions felt
Moments to keep

As another day soon to end
Self tries to ponder
Is it a good day
Or a great day?
ATM: Reflecting... on my way home :)
 Feb 2020
guy scutellaro
the average cost of a funeral is
$8,515

death is unaffordable for me

put me in  big oblong cardboard box

2 feet by 3 feet by 6 feet

packing list enclosed

fragile (not really)
      please handle with care

keep upright

       or

supine

send me to the
grande vide

postage due
 Feb 2020
muteD
Please tell me why I even bother.
Why do I bother to scramble to find the words to express how I am feeling when all you are going to do is press Ignore?
I feel IGNORED.
Why do I bother to talk about the thoughts that run screaming through my mind when all you’re going to do is Interrupt?
You hate it but I hate it more.
Never being able to finish my sentence is the curse I’m destined to die with.
Never being understood is all I’m meant to be.
Invalid is all I am. Invalid is all I’m meant to be.
I’m just so tired. Tired of going through everything I have to go through.
 Feb 2020
muteD
I wish I could just make myself into the person you want me to be.
Even though for some reason you keep telling me to be myself.
What if you don’t like her?
What if I don’t like her?
Because the person I’ve known to be me,
I don’t like.
I don’t like how she looks.
I don’t like how she talks.
But, no one hears that.
It’s all in my mind.
If I want change, why don’t I change?
These days it really feels as though I am truly going insane.
Late night poem.. Probably will end up changing the title since I’m not a 100% on it. Any ideas? Comment.
I still pine
       for what I’ve lost
               the promise and
                               fulfillment.

I still search my memory
                for hidden fragments
                                 of that treasure.

     Time has covered
                some of them in
                            shadows of nostalgia.

     But the flaming pain
                        still brightly burns and
                                      tears will not extinguish it.
                        ljm
Sometimes I feel like a broken record.  Healing much too slowly.
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