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Teach
me
how                           
to
dance
and                            
we'll
dance
the                             
night
away
Written: June 5. - 2014
Open my browser
Four sites are loaded
All very important
Neatly encoded

Virtually truthful
Book full of chatter
Following news
Reading the weather

This backlit life
Hard to shut down
Beeps of my laundry
Back on my own

The radar discloses
Rain clouds are closing
My dot on the map
Pixel perfect posing
Something that popped up in my brain. I'm not a native speaker, so any help appreciated :P
sick blame
takes shape
inside

degenerate
flame of hatred
burns to rise

hellish wince
of uncomfortable
pressure

escapes ecstatically
through
unrefined surprise
#poem #poetry #pip-poetry
3 weeks or so
Since we did that show
And now I'm alone
Yes I got a phone

But no one to call
Not even ghostbusters, fall
Is far off and till then I fear
Nothing from "friends" is what ill hear

Nightmares are back
Puting my mind under attack
Constant reminders of mistakes made
And that memories of you refuse to fade


But that doesn't matter, does it
The truth is , I act like I don't
Need anyone or anything,
But I need something in my
Life to be constant, aside from
The constant of being told I may move again
What you guys think
Nothing is stable
I'm just waiting for everything to collapse around me
Or maybe morph into something unknown because
nothing feels real right now and
I'm not sure I believe in existence anymore

It's probably just an illusion and we've all
been playing into the hands of a higher
power's experiment.
We are the guinea pigs of life and I refuse to be a mere
scientific "what if".

Now everything shatters, I've broken the curse
of the glass house.
Tell big brother he's now an only child and I've killed his flies who just so happened to
fancy perching on my walls.

I've uncovered your veil of secrecy
And I intend to expose your lies.
Goodbye im off to a place composed of
realacy for ground and infinity for skies.
Don't forget the perpetual hope for humans that is found so very seldom here.

Oh, what a place.
6.4.14. 23:21
Sickened he was by her bad word choices, special need for
incongruous expressions,words spelled the way she likes,
blanks that can never be filled, invented quotes, fabricated realities,
thunderous "****" repeated in intervals, as if  each an inlaid jewel,
and then, having no fixed meaning for that favorite word of hers,
nothing more than an intention to denigrate ******,
                                                                ­                   and women as a whole,
a subconscious compulsion, strangely included, her's also in it's ambit.
He understands her compulsion for such expression thus--
fulfillment of some innate need, an expression of her own worthlessness,
resulted from some grave injury of the mind that happened,
sometime early in her childhood, one could guess.
He took the decision to mark her "UNREAD" for ever
with deep anguish of course,after reading her many fine and sane pieces.
A poetry site distinguished, moderated by editors, a pleasure for participants, as one of those rare sites where authentic discussion on poetic aesthetics is held,  edits done to polish a poem, now finds a fall of standard, which is painful.Core of the problem is few with interests other than poetic..
Their attitude is strange,  and every one pretends emperor's new clothes are fine..
Or is it because some want to be e.e cummings, Bukowski and few others, all at once?
 Jun 2014 Giavanna Corriero
echo
teach me the art of listening
and i will paint your silence
on my heart
My thoughts circle in worry,
Dripping resentment and judgment
Into the purity of now.  Help me.
I know what I do, but I do and I do and I do.


Danna Evans
When we see our bad habits as a choice for the first time, we are given the gift of vision, but the curse of the remaining repetitive action.  It's so painful to watch ourselves trip and fall.  I try to remind myself the progress is IN the tripping and the falling.
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