So, we know beautiful people are leaving
Just as a crab with a soft shell hides under rocks
But the Debs and Donnas only have to hide for a short time
Because we are the rocks of safety
The hate mongers are not poets
Not inspirationalists
They are the ones with a one inch *****
Those who desire the fulfilling *** of poetry
But cannot achieve the ******
And so you who write
Be it good or bad
Ignore the poison barbs of bitterness and hate
Just be yourselves

So she's leaving us
Driven out by the mindless idiots
Who infest this site
I had it with my last daily "Hope"
But the writer had less likes for all his poems
Than I've got in just one
We, we who write and post do it for one reason
We write because we love words
We DO not write for torrents of abuse
And so I say to you
Ignore the abusers because they are lessor people
Than you
There is no love in their words
Simply because they are incapable of expressing love
You, you the poets, you the true writers
Stay, ignore the idiots
YOU are the beating heart that keeps us alive

Forget your childhood dreams for they are lost
Evaporating into the thin air of history
There is no fairystory ending
But death, destruction, ******
And there the fairystory must end
Reality, yes reality
Blood stains on the streets
Because the barons of the drugs decide
Supremacy must meet
It's become so easy to point the gun
Without thought to extinguish life
But they in turn must answer
And they in their turn must die

In the corner sits and old wooden rocking chair
Just as it's sat for the last hundred years
Worn and polished with the patina of age and use

I sit, pencil and pad in hand trying to visualize
What it has witnessed over the years long past
Tears of happiness, tears of heartbreak
Of births and of death

Christmases and birthdays when times were hard
Times when money was scarce
But times when the children understood
Times when children were content, with the little that they had

That old chair has sat there in the corner
For at least a hundred years
I read stories in the grainy polished woodwork
And let my imagination loose