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 Jul 5 Francie Lynch
Maddy
No matter what
No matter when
It would be you all over again
Stepping low and high
So many multitudes of reasons why

Hellos and Goodbyes
Surprises and the Unexpected
Climbing mountains
Falling into Valleys
Silence that echoes
Music that holds you and lets you go
Doing it all over again
It would only be you
There is nobody else in the Universe that wlll do

C@rainbowchaser2024
What's your excuse
For the things that you do
Do you take and blame others
Is that the path that you choose

Or your environment
Where your life is spent
The side of town that you live on
Is that where you get

All the many lies
As to the reason why
That you go and tell yourself
As you try and deny

Do you blame it on race
The one you're in, the one you face
When you find yourself steeped deep
In the excuses you make

What do you say
About the way you behave
Ten out of ten
Where you tend to place blame

Have you ever thought it through
That the problem might be you
Why you do the things you do
Could that be your excuse?
Not all the nights were moonlit bright
the darker ones fed upon our fright
buried in depth lay the lonely souls
bones still alive eyes burning coals.

Nights on which moon dimly shone
feebly glowed those marble stones
with names etched of young and old
songs lost forever stories never told.

We talked in whispers lest the dead awoke
soldiers' graveyard life snuffed in smoke
buried in uniform now one with the soil
past all glories win's reward loss's toil.

Night lengthened wind's moan arose
the watchman called it's time to close
the living must go awaits their home
tombstones part for the dead to roam.
I frequented a neighborhood cemetery along with a friend in the 70's when access was unrestricted. We used to stay till late evening when it was deserted. The cemetery had memorial tombstones of soldiers died in World War I. This is a recollection from that time.
Hey! Ladies & gentlemen!
All you girls and boys!
Put away TV remotes!
You have some NEW TOYS!

We have a job that's
just for YOU!
It's easy! You can TRY!
WE WANT A PERSON
IN THE GRAVE...
Just hear our slanderous LIES.

You know that woman over there?
She don't do as she should
She's had a hundred boyfriends
What's more she beats her kids!

You know that guy
downstairs from you?
Investigation's goin' on
Law Enforcement
knows about it
MOLESTING KIDS IS WRONG!

NO! DO NOT CONFRONT THEM!
WE have a way to delve
Heaven forbid they
know you KNOW
So they DEFEND THEMSELVES!

No. We'll do it THIS way...
We'll do it real SLY
Don't worry bout
a thing my friends
Do not question why...

Just go ahead and
spread the WORD!
Tell everyone! Their friends!
I'll teach you some other tricks
To help make their life END.

If we do things all just right
Use my sadistic guide
You'll see that we can
cleanse our world
By their SUICIDE.

Don't worry. It'll be easy.
It's quite simple to do
You will find that
you won't mind...

BE GRATEFUL IT'S NOT YOU.


SoulSurvivor
aka Write of Passage
(C) 3/13/2017


The creation of madness always begins
With SLANDER. Imagine. All of a sudden
"Everyone" is against you! You can't figure out WHY. BECAUSE YOU'RE COMPLETELY INNOCENT
If you are aware of the horrific existence of the targeted individual ÿou will understand this.
Light shuffles to my window
Muttering and weaving
Its breath is heaving
Derelict dawn
Yawns for lack of sleep
The sun slept
In a cardboard box
And now creeps out
Bleary eyed
Tired of begging
To pay for the bottle
Of Thunderbird
That will help it taste the day
It's creating.

Del Sol wears the
Solar flares like
Shrouds, the
Spiritual blindness
Of Jim Jones
Talking the earth
And its world
Of living things
To drink in the
Lemon Kool-Aid
Of light.

The only existing
Elixir to the
Ones tired to the
Marrow is
The drink of
Darkness.


Its breath
The beer
Which tells
The sober
It has
Drunk
Its
Fill.


SoulSurvivor aka
Write of Passage
2022
They say
Denial is the first stage of grief
I think I'm going through it.
I still can't believe that
You are gone,
Just like that, Nana.
Growing up,
I have never known a home
That didn't have you.

I can't believe
that the next time I return
You won't be there,
Waiting for me
In your usual arm chair,
With a cherubic smile on your face,
When you see your granddaughter.

The last time I came home,
I was so afraid
of how much you remember,
if my face would even register,
And when I asked with hope and apprehension,
"Can you recognize me?"
You smiled like,
I had said the silliest thing in the world
and replied, "Why won't I recognize you?"

Home
will never be the same without you.
You used to be my North Star, my Superhero,
The one I always looked up to and was in awe of,
No one will ever match up
To your wisdom, your goodness.
It is like the brightest star
has been snuffed out from my life.
Now, who will I call Nana anymore?
Who will ever smile at me like you used to?

Wherever you are -
I hope you are in a better place,
Happier, healthier, and in peace.
I hope you can walk again in fields of meadows,
And breathe fresh air under the open sky.
I hope you get to eat your favorite dishes
and all the sweets you crave,
I hope where you are,
You can listen to your favorite music,
Read all the books you want,
And write all the stories,
You couldn't in this life.
I hope wherever you are,
You can still feel my love for you.

I will always look for you in the stars,
Love you and miss you forever, Nana.
My grandfather passed away this Thursday, 27th June and has left this huge gaping hole in my heart. He was the finest human being I knew and it was a privilege and a blessing to be his granddaughter. He has been a constant in my life since I was a child and now he is no more. My love for reading, writing, music and so much more, I inherited from him. Please say a prayer for him if you are reading this...🙏
Not so, really, the seat of spring,
a car of dark cloths, the voice of
boys and whispers.  Do it.

Do it, the lion sleeps tonight
playing on the radio.  Do it.

Forty years the lion is awake.
I remain in the back, handblack,
churning.  My stomach is den
solid now and hungers for the
shallow response.  The song
played then shouts out loud.

Do it.  I wrestled with it, and drowned.

The lion sleeps not I think.  I see
the mane of his black head, the
italian tomorrow of my fourteenth
year roared from him.

I did it in the maw of that music.
I held onto the ****, pretended
to feed the wimoway.  Never done.

I did it to the music of the *******
who whispered to me of the jungle.
I did it to the tune of the ***** that
pinned me to the mighty song.

The lion sleeps.  I think not yet.
Snickersnack the wimoway is
whacked low and I drown in the
song.  I did it, like a nun who fears
perdition if she drops the rosary.

The lion sleeps tonight.  In the jungle
the ******* NewYork night
pads on and on.  I don’t sleep.





Caroline Marie Shank

March 9, 2001
Written several years ago. I feel compelled to look back
Echoes of Solitude

An old man, unpopular and weathered,
Sketches cartoon characters of his childhood tormentors.
Their names, like bitter echoes, resound in his memories.
“Those *******!” he mutters, lips trembling.

He refrains from tears, fearing their taste—
A blend of loose cells from his mother and father.
Weeks pass, and Eugene, his friend, remains absent.
Hospitalized, perhaps, for an unknown pain.

The dayroom chats, oh, how he misses them!
Eugene’s face would light up when they spoke
Of Aunt Harriet’s cookies and Uncle Jack’s fishing trips.
Just the two of them, sharing moments by the lake.

But his parents? Ah, they were different.
His father’s advice: “******* to ease the pressure.”
His mother’s counsel: “Run from the bullies.”
And the therapist? “You’ll amount to nothing,” they said.

He harbored resentment, wishing he’d never been born.
Shunned, scorned—a life marked by isolation.
Yet poetry became his refuge, a soft spot in his heart.
I gifted him my favorite pen, urging him to write.

Empathy, my duty, compels me to tell stories—
To amplify voices silenced by circumstance.
For in the ink-stained verses, we find solace.
Dark n Beautiful, your words resonate.

Written by Dark n Beautiful. 🖋️
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