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 Feb 2019
Paul Hardwick
getting old
one false move
your mind
see it hard to find
strange things happen there
somehow your mind is closed
funny things happen there
as you flow through the air
thinking **** I am dead
bouncing on different levels
as you go down
wondering which level
you came from
the bottom looms
the ground
my mind got quite **** up
well would'ant yours
rock bottom
come to soon
there I lay
great pain in my leg
get up
try to walk
nope broken in two places
hospital looms
**** and I needed some sleep
999 what service do you require
true story.

But still here
well in mind
but not full body
two fractures to heal.
Missed you all P@ul. ***.
 Oct 2017
Paul Hardwick
Pomegranate is fruit
sweet and a taste
I can't describe it
Surreal but reminds of things I once had
as the juices dribble down my jaw
but have memories of it
do we grow it
at home

No not hot here enough
P@ul ***.
 Oct 2017
Paul Hardwick
I see clouds of   words
I see clouds of   l♥ve
I see clouds of   pain
I see clouds   that hurt
I see clouds of  shame
I see clouds of   time
I see clouds of   the past
I see clouds of  rain
I see clouds of  thunder
I see clouds   that teach us all
I see clouds of   things to give
I see clouds of  things to take
I see clouds in   my mind
I see clouds of   given time
I see clouds of   hell
I see clouds of   hate
I see clouds of   to celebrate
I see clouds of   lost in space

I see clouds of*   ME.
P@ul ***.
 Jul 2017
Paul Hardwick
Your brain
cannot dream me
it's dreams   on its own
not even I can control it
it happens



from the sky
never hit the floor
just wake up
mostly on my own
sit on the bed
place my hand on my head
think of what means nothing at all
get up shower, shave
and my day goes on

All the things of the day a cure.

SUrrEALology.  ***.
LoVe you hellpo.
 Apr 2017
Langston* said what happens
when dreams don't come true:
they fester, stink, or explode

but hell, hear what I say
colored girls ain't got no dreams,
what we got is schemes to make it
from here 'til tomorrow

and we don't drown saggin'
sorrow in gin, or the big H--least ways
not all of us do

it's true, the man done piled
on ****, high as it can be stacked on us
but we don't all ride no pity bus

the streets don't weep for the weak
or those of us who spread our legs to get us
a baby--a toy all our own

cause when he's all grown, he ain't
goin' be there to fill our empty bellies
or make us proud

so go on say it loud:
black girls don't need nobody
show 'em the way

and one day, we goin'
take what's ours--we just don't expect
to reach for no stars

we be fine with settlin'
for someone callin' us by name
and not feelin' no **** shame

Covenant Avenue, Harlem, 1968
* Langston Hughes--an allusion to his poem Harlem in which he asks, what happens to a dream deferred
 Mar 2017
Paul Hardwick
Never known
what is the thing
I talk about
Love P@ul.
 Mar 2017
Paul Hardwick
I limp
spelt L.i.m.p
on my right I hold you
but not always to my soul
for my heart just is not big enough to be the whole
makes me feel small
little P@ul
feel small
But I am bigger than that
so I hold in my you in my head
as long as you work with me
One Two Three Four
lets rock and roll
lets dance
you say I hear no music
you feel it in blood
in your head
For me
That's a good day come on
special treats
**** Me
so much
from just dragging
a foot
On my left
that's the foot
just ****** with you.
See me smile
Love you all P@ul.
 Feb 2017
for John, it came with
the raucous roar of crowds when he scored
the winning touchdown; for Willie,
when he drove in the final run

for Paul, it came when he charged
a *** bunker on a chunk of rock from hell
he heard no applause--only the rat-tat-tat
of the gun that mowed him down

for Anna, it came with no
sound and fury; only a gentle thank you kiss
from her girl who told her she had been
the best mother in the world

for Rafael, his final hurrah was humble:
a smile from the lady who handed him his last check
after he mopped his last floor, cleaned his final
porcelain bowl, after a patient half century

for me, I don't know when it will be...
perhaps it occurred long ago, in an arena
or on a field I didn't recognize as a place of honor
or perchance tomorrow, when I learn to die
 Feb 2017
that's the road trip
the boy wanted, once he discovered
the universe was that big

he asked Dad, the closest
god he could find, what was outside
that 93 billion light years

the father did not know
but was open to the notion vast space
was but a bubble

one the lad saw in his bath water
the night before; a mystic mass the boy tried to grasp
but vanished with a finger's touch
Astronomers estimate the universe is 93 billion light years across.
 Feb 2017
the curs keep on coming
the crowds keep on chanting

the arena is not grand
emperors do not watch

as blood sprays the plywood
walls thrown up to pen these pits

in their epic struggle to
keep blackness from overcoming them

the spitting spectators
long ago lost their souls

now there is only survival
of the meanest bull in the ring

and the resentful surrender
of a few bucks, if their dog loses

and the removal of the dead  
while the blood dries, and the next beasts snarl
two minute poem--two minute poem has no guidelines other than it must be written in 2 minutes or less--editing is permitted, but no words may be added after the initial 2 minutes (this one actually took about 2 minutes and thirty seconds--the last line took an extra half minute--2.5 minute poem??)
 Jan 2017
where will they take me
this thick, whirling cloud
of birds?

I lower my shotgun;
my targets were to be
a skein of geese

(corpulent, impertinent
avian freaks I have seen
peck children's shins)

these smaller birds
perform a choreography electric,
black against blue

now I know the meandering
meaning of mesmerize--my eyes
glued to the skies

more agape than the hunter
in me--wishing to watch this wave
undulate an eternity

but alas, the flock turns
into a naked sun; I am forced
to shield my eyes

my hand blocks the blare
of light, with it, the whipping tail of
their liquid flight

when I lower it, they are
but a haze near the horizon, performing
magic for another audience
 Dec 2016
the days, she counts
backwards, and recalls what she was doing
5000 sunsets ago

and she does know
5000 from now, she'll be gone, if number
wizards are right

on this winter night,
she thumbs through old photos
of loved ones now far away

she finds one of a sunny day
five decades past--she and her man long departed
sitting under a tree

there she can plainly see
the pines and the bed of needles
on which they made love

and directly above,
she squints to discover, a bird
caught in flight  

she returns to this night,
places the photo in the box where
it has rested all these years  

somehow, the image allays her fears:
the father of her children, smiling, holding her hand;
the bird she finally saw, wings spread forever
 Nov 2016
Paul Hardwick
Drop               F
                                 L                 he did not stop
    he had no up or down
just a one-way ticket towards the ground
he thought for a minute
would he stop
but no  drop smashed on the ground.
P@ul.   ***.
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