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 Jun 2013 Gene
Mike T Minehan
When you're a writer, you get invited to strange gigs
sometimes, where usually, the audience is arty farty
or even a bit precious and pretentious.
You know, the blue rinse set.
But I was once invited to recite poetry in a bar,
where I knew my audience might be ******,
or maybe even abusive, and wouldn't give
a **** about writing.
Yeah? Well, I'm a bit of a word warrior, really,
so I didn't back off.
I stepped right in for the fight.

I said straight up that my poem was especially
for people like them who thought that writers are
wishy-washy, woffling, **** weak and luke-warm.
So then I said,
PPPHHHaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrtttttttt.
Very loud.

I told them this was some royal raspberry,
just for people like them,
who thought this was going to be another boring poem.
And then I threw in a few words like, ah, ****, doggy fashion,
finger up the ****, you know, just to liven things up.

I told them what I really thought.
***** You! Especially seeing as how you think poetry’s
some wimpy, bleeding heart, limp **** stuff. Right?
So let's get right down and ***** here.

Which is much more interesting, eh?
And do you know what that says about you?
No?  You bleeding, blinkered, blind-as-bats
broomstick-up-the-arsed, boring, bonehead *******!

So don't call this poet ****-weak any more
or I'll hit you bang between the eyes
and up between your thighs.
I've got some things to say you'd better not ignore.

When it comes to words, I'm a gouger and a biter.
I'm a brawling, hard-as-nails, no-holds-barred street fighter.
I'm a writer.

Yeah, well, no surprise here. That made them quieter.
I'd shut them up. So what did that prove?
I'd just abused and confused them.
It made me think, well, why did I bother?
Poems are for believers and lovers, aren’t they?
They don't need me to fight for them in bars.
Poems just are.
Yes,and some of them might live
as long as the stars.


Mike T Minehan
 Jun 2013 Gene
K Balachandran
Every river remembers summer with anger
though, in all other times every  memory is flooded with water.
 Jun 2013 Gene
st64
peace
please



private property..
intruder hurtled over
seeking who knows what
screaming obscenities

perfect pitch..
find little solace
but by going within
hide well beneath veneers

possible perfection..
but with one
so* very far away
loss near calamitous

pardon presumption..
get over discomfort
pick up sad face
work with it

passable poetry..
may reveal a layer or two
if the inner eye ready
shove preconceived away

puerile pretence..
try to prove points
only to efface the truth
lose bits of the light

petty prisons..
all just deadly excuses against living
get locked in by the self
unlock the cell, throw key away

please..
peace




S T, 12 June 2013
when we expect nothing, we won't be disappointed :)
 Jun 2013 Gene
j
broken love
 Jun 2013 Gene
j
our broken love was all that we had
we were lonely souls with nothing to lose
except our friendship and our sanity
we were shattered and helpless
looking for some hope in this seemingly
loveless and hopeless world
with us both left lonely and wanting
someone to hold
we turned to each other
but our hearts turned cold
and to this day I cannot lie
I miss your friendship
and your blue eyes
but I can't forget
the way you hurt me
and the way you completely destroyed me
even though you said
you loved me
                        ( and I know we all lie
                          and I know promises are always broken
                          but you lied about loving
                          me and those kind of lies
                          can destroy people
                          and you said you meant it
                          when you whispered
                          forever but that was nothing more
                          than an alluring deceit
)
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