Make love not war America.

Faces in the Street

So many faces, so many people
moving like boxes on an assembly line
I wonder if they ever think of the time

There always that one guy who always
Seem to be fidgeting with his cell phone,
With that killer tone of his voice
“***** aye better have my money today”
With that bad ****** expression attitude,

There is always a lesson to be learned,
a story to be told, from the feeling of a poet.
His eyes became the camera zooming from left to right
trying not to fixated on his subject,

So many faces, so many people, and there I was
Thinking of Robin Williams

The way I read your mind
Is the same as sign language in your poetry?

Poetry is the chiseled marble of language;
It’s a paint-spattered canvas - but the poet uses words instead of paint,
and the canvas is you:

You borrow a phrase, and hanged it like a gibbet,
That meant nothing for us: it was so ribbit ,ribbit
You sat there on the log and watch as the frogs
Jump from Lilly pad to lily pad: in the dusky fog
The frozen frogs’ moves, your words croaked

we decipher your deepest fears,
so why do you filled the pond with the splashing tears?

When  the African lion roar ferociously in the early morning
I have no other choice, but to tamed the beast
The Goddess within respond with a purr! Purr!
A little teases, a little smile, a little laughter,
Suddenly, the greatest natural gift—of ******* joy
  my secret desire fulfilled.

Good grief

You barely made it through the work day
Listening to the sound of the bed and chair alarms  
From the time you start the shift
Until you finish it. They just wouldn’t sit down

A chemical imbalance in their brains,
We kept getting a paycheck and
We kept on giving it to them. Those awful drugs,
Sometimes it works. Sometimes it don’t
They just wouldn’t sit down.

Mr. Steven Wallace,
I am going to end this hopefully with your blessing
When a brain that have been addled by boozes and drugs
fallen from the socket for a period of time

**Sit Beside you...
What is all this?
I know how furiously their hearts is beating

Wallace Stevens

Although you sit in a room that is dark
Except for the outdoor patio light
And texts frantically
on your phone
Or biting your lower lip
Letting yourself bleed
Or gazed at the door
with the rusty hinges locks of love

Or with one finger you fumbled
With the bobby pins in your hair
with the wavy side up

What is all this?
Benjamin Rabbit and the stranger danger

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/gray-room

Oh Jesus can you hear me now?
It have been so long since my last confession,
I am drowning in guilt, but fighting to
keep my head above the water

I can’t let them see me cry
Unless you have bad times, you can't appreciate the good times
One potato, two potatoes three potatoes four,
Give me the strength to walk out that door
The look in my eyes: this hate in my heart

All the things that drive me insane are the poetic words that kept me going
Turn my eyes away from worthless things; preserve my life according to your word.
Oh Jesus let not my heart be troubled