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 Oct 2016 Commuter Poet
em
I fell in love with a broken man
thought I could put him back together again,
but instead he made me broken too
that's the last time I entrust my heart to you.
everyone makes mistakes sometimes

but I never thought you'd be mine.
think about the world changing everyday

the planet that we knew now so far away

filled up with pollution in the air and sea

smoke up in the sky blowing wild and free.



gone now as the time when the world was calm

breathing in the air never caused you harm.

nothing is same as it was before

just a global warming heading out to war
it takes us years
to find out how our body works
what it can feel, smell, touch, see, hear
how we can move its limbs
what hurts it, what makes it feel  good

more years are spent
discovering the fathoms of our soul
from murky depths to lofty heights
the scales of feelings, pain, excitement
     love, joy, jealousy, despair,
all our nuanced sensitivities

then we explore
the layers of our mind’s infinite potential
its constant work of making sense
    from the reports of all our senses
so we believe we understand our worlds,
imagine new ones, phantasize about the old

when after all these years
we harbor some illusion
our long experience might be enough
     to straighten all confusion
chances are good we recognize
that all we are is knowledge-misers

we have grown old, but not much wiser
Constantly dreaming. Yet, my body continues working like a machine, keep the pistons steaming and clean.

One day we will awaken to the reality of it all, and take one giant leap for mankind, yet still so small.

When will we learn that our minds are the true source of work, not the hours of constantly bending and scooping filthy pounds of dirt.

While necessary and a dream to some, working for them ignores the membership to the new Country Club, but a fight for chances to escape hell, their homes, the slum.

We take for granted how easy we have it, sitting behind our constantly evolving superficial habit, chasing pre-determined dreams so we will Just Do It, even if we must illegally grab it.

I hope for a day when work aiding the greedy is no longer, and we can finally concentrate on the true goal of developing our world and mind together.

Without the ****** conflicts, what will slimy men above do? They will shake at night in their beds, worried to death that their defeat is in the population's collective heads

Knowledge is power, and power in this century is undefined; materialistic riches lose their value quickly when you can create things with your mind.

Open the floodgates to creativity, and finally use the power of connectivity. We must step up, and stand together, when we begin developing the future for our new century.
 Jul 2016 Commuter Poet
autumn
The only part of my day
That I look forward to
Is when I go to bed
And lay there making up scenarios
In my head.

I think of comebacks
To 8th grade bullies.
I think of witty retorts
To my mother's snide comments.
I think of intelligent things to add
To conversations I had months ago.

I think of all the things
I was too scared to say.

And in my mind
I say them.
And pretend how things would be different
If only I had the courage to speak.
Many decades past,
Years older,
Life colder,

Oceans apart,
Unable to feel your beating heart,

Memories strung together, unraveling,
Keep seeing your outline in my visions,
Difficulty remembering our passion,

Hard rainy night,
Thundering memories,
Drunk! Seeing our dreams floating away,
In a green bottle of soju,

Still hearing your laugh,
Visions of your smile in flashes of lightning,
There is no need to be sad,

Still seeing visions of your bright smile,
Every morning in every glowing sunrise.

Copyright © 2016 Ronald J Chapman All Rights Reserved.
Song for a stormy night
https://youtu.be/YHJTD6ZMNFk
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