My narrative Reportage
They said that I made a better storywriter than a poet
However, poets get their ideas from stories,
But my creativity comes from a glass of Moet Chardon (:)
Yesterday, I saw a homeless man got on the train during rush hour
He passed right through the crowd and went on his way to the front car
and leaned against the moving  door

His sudden outburst of laughter made the passengers looked around
He was a sight for sore eyes this character,
but instead he became my instant story to tell
Or behold a Poet laureate mastered piece  
Dark soiled clothes he wore, his dingy T-shirt he use for a hanky:
With empty pocket hanging low, toothless he smile and kept on smiling
Slurred speech and some missing toes he became my focus point
What’s the use of having lot of money and not sharing?
Within those moments, I saw a decade of homelessness within his character
An ex-mariner, a husband, a degraded broken hearted soldier,
America a failing superpower country:
and most of all New York City a FAILING disaster
So I began my journey, either to compose a poetry piece or tell my eyewitness story into sections of poetry and fiction:

Jan folded the letter
running a finger
along its crease.

She looked up-
someone  was
explaining functionality
€‹She stared at
the new argument
€on the white board

then returned to the letter-
the fold
the plane
pressing and creasing
vertices meeting
corners peaking.

Sighing:

His orientation obvious,
they were now mismatched.
Incongruent
she rose
and left the room.
There would be many such
lessons.

Tommy Carroll
redrafted

I realized today that I have
stopped living life.
I am literally just trying to get
to the next day, just living in the
thought of tomorrow.
I am not living, I am waiting.
And the trouble is, I don't know what
I am exactly waiting for. I am kind of
scared for what it might be.

Playing the advocate.
Always standing up for you.
Defense, maybe greater at winning the war.
Never,if ever the bodies be broken.
Will we ever skip and play again.
You and I rode broken trains.
Now there ain't no going back.
Your wheels walked my way, you in your chair.
You whistled at me.
I didn't care.
Stopped me fast in my tracks.
You stopped me from passing, by blocking the path.

The two of us,  initially just game for a laugh.
Not joking.
You bought me Choux buns, filled up with cream.
You were never what you seemed.
Sold me sweetness.
Summer suns and floppy hats.
Puffy pastries.
Rather tasty.
Teacups full of coffee.

Walking on beaches.
Sand on my heels.
It's stuck in my hair.
God only knows how the hell it got there.
Emotion laid open, by you and your name.
Initially you and I thought it was a game.
Things will never be the same.

Bare as a child, newborn and warm.
Soon to be colder, as she's getting older.
You must know how it feels.

You stole my sun.
Clasped it in between your hands.
Time herself, well she stole summer.
Turned it into winter.
Splinter movement.
Stuck right in.
Spurned by a lover who once was stranger.
An orchestra of storms and stress.
Riding left over driftwood.
Through this God awful mess.

Once we were strangers.
Then we were friends.
Dear once upon a time stranger,
You came along and rearranged me.
And so the story ends.
(c)Livvi MMCV

~~
When so much light around
but you say the dark
I could not understand
my top layer

When I was in the womb
Then, and not
But there was light
Then when I saw your universe that you have made
everything was there

My playing companions
The Sun
The Moon
My beloved,
And that delighted
Night's north star was
on her forehead  
Where all of my senses have
grown up

Then at one sudden night of the new moon
I saw a thick overlay on the sky,
between you and me
The North Star has disappeared

I think that you were true
In the dark I find my known world
One by one,
Trying out through the thick layer

It seems to cover the end
As light yellow yolk
See a light-colored tint
which awakens my sixth sense again

A shadowy obsession
Which has yet to create an illusion
~~
@Musfiq us shaleheen

"Surreal skeptic, cynical cryptic! Licentious lecheries fabulist façade fantasias. Wild eyed spectral serene. Dream of catenary concoctions, ethereal salacious conjugation, bridge the gap in metaphysical mystique. Erotica erectile errantry’s exserted protuberance is a kinesiology kleptomaniac with his embark embargo extraditions and his eventuation evocative execrations, a positive amalgamated anathema android of a terminus thrall. The shadow in the shade of the silhouette sojourn. The bailiff’s rakeness rails incarnate, unicorn railway nails and all. He will paint mirador bartizan panorama tableaus all over your proximity parameter perimeter peripherals. Force the enmity to acquiesce into impunity.” “Why this is not but an ogling ogre of an oligarchy omelet” she shrieked as he continued to tickle her. “Down here at the bizarre bazaar we all believe in the blasphemous farcical fugueness,” he said. “Positive orchestration renditions of transpositional interlude.” “Come here,” she said “let my clambering clamorous clangor write you a wield wile treatise expose’.” “The legions of Chinga da are battling the hoards of Gunga din saying ‘kinetic supremacy temporize tractive fluent’ , it’s sheer genocide. That plasty goop nosed Gumby ****** Gunga doesn’t stand a chance. Coax cacophony clout, catatonic phonics, grizzly grotto grouches all”, She squealed. “Now you’re gumption dreaming”, he chimed. “Chutzpah panache spontaneous generation complicity, gambit alluvium aloof succor.”

When you said you loved me,
I could dance for days.
When you said you loved me,
it took everything not to kiss your face.
When you said you loved me,
I held tightly onto your hand.
When you said you loved me,
I began to like who I am.
When you said you loved me,
I fell in love with your voice.
When you said you loved me,
you became my first and only choice.
When you said you loved me,
I knew that I'd fight for you.
When you said you loved me,
I believed what you said to be true.
But when you said you loved me,
I began to think I'm not the only one.
And when you said you loved me,
I tried to figure what it was that I've done.
I know you say you love me,
even after looking me straight in the eye.
But the next time you say you love me,
please tell me the reasons why.

In the corner with a lonely match,
Do you expel the light
Before darkness does it for you.

What use are you now
Now you are gone
You promised forever
My only one
You promised you’d stay
Through sickness and health
But the sickness crept up
And with quiet and stealth
It took you away

First just in mind
As you failed to recall
Our memories, the date
And then nothing at all
Then came the failing
Of your body once strong
Lying broken and crumbled
And after not very long
It took you away

So what use are you now
As I mourn and I grieve
That wasn't part of the deal
You said you’d not leave
I wonder if maybe
We should never have met
Then my heart wouldn't ache
With no love to forget, when
It took you away

But for the years that we spent
For the laughter we shared
For the children we raised
For the way that you cared
For the chance to have known you
For our souls that entwined
You will always, forever
Still be part of mine
It won’t take you.

Learn to appreciate the rainbow after cursing the rain. It’s just like loving again after experiencing the pain. Quote:

Beneath a soft burning orange glow,
Lounge lights kite your eyes.
And in’em I witness celestials orb and flow.
Suns form
As a super-massive black lull collides
With tense prismatic surfaces bubbling from
Passions of some soft cosmic dove.

Moving my lips into the wealth of your love,
My mouth opens as I’m about to
*****
Into your fleeting beauty.
Because everyone who has flown on love’s comet
A few times or more has written this scene,
And *honestly
It’s a sickening bore.

But I keep staring into the eyes of some vapid *****.
Like I’ll find the core to everything and know
Why most think life is such a chore.

Until then beer is cheap,
And love is free. So it’s easy
To forget that fight for destiny
That’s so desperately
Gripping tight
As I gasp for air
From my computer chair.

Struggling to look through the screen,
Like it’s the only window
Through which I can breathe life.
All the others are dim
And dusty from lack of hygiene or sleep.

Yeah, my coffee may be black and bitter
But it’s just not strong enough to deal
With the never-passing-go coughers I inhale most nights.
So I can’t begin to explain why I search for insights
In the vapid eyes of instinctively driven computational horrors,
Streaming in the same old scene
That makes me want to scream!
when there is A WHOLE WIDE UNIVERSE TO EXPLORE!
.
.
.
It would be nice,
To read every selfless poetic chapter
Of cosmic collapse birthing
Stars to guide planets in the night spinning
Through the course of time growing
Life in grand spurts of tumble weeds
Rolling into the starry night, galaxies alight,
Leaving stories of dandelion wishes
Boldly going into that good night
Where none
Have gone
Before.

Instead,
Poets rush selfishly to posy poesy words.
About the one
That makes some giddy or giggle,
That makes some shake or shamble,
The one whom fills nights with sweet dreams
Or nightmares,
Or quiets the ocean screams-the one with that bun, hon’
Aww yeah, you know the one
Whom-turns-sacks'a'drugs-in-system-sexually-ferocious.
To lose’em really would be quite atrocious.

So often
It’s been not so clearly said:
“My dear I need you
Or I’ll lose my head.”

Getting a tangled reply:
“Hey babe, Shakespeare’s dead.”
Typically shaking the bed.

Relieving thoughtless thoughts on the spread:
“Shh-forget about the galaxies alight.
We've caught our hearts tonight.”