quite a few of those
those
taught serious
in the heart arrow things

tugging  opening up
flows
caught wearily
in the sharpness ring

ing there over above
know
thoughts keeping
in the dark me awake

singing of her them
now
bought
paid for seeing
if you buy what makes

you happy
you are not

you don't understand how long some people have been here
you don't understand the changes we've seen
you don't understand how much we've longed for the people to
be who they be
you don't understand how it breaks our hearts
to see such infighting
bought to our world from other pages
used to back biting
you don't understand, for us
that have believed from the start
that Hello Poetry was once a place
where we always laid our heart
we gave over our life to this place
we endured every change
when you see something different here
know we have suffered more than this strange
once upon a time
in an awesome time and place
when people googled
Poetry
they found this space
they found inspiration
they found laughter that never ends
they found confidantes and a place
to plant
a never ending garden of friends
So if you're from another site
drawn here by the skin of tooth
sit a while in our midnight garden
and I'll speak to you a truth

Hello Poetry has been my best friend
for over 5 years, and all the friends
I've found on here, they've danced beneath my laugh, and held onto me so tight
that if I ever fall so wrong, they'll make
it all right

And that's the saddest thing
about Hello Poetry today...
is that most don't try
to make true friends
really real friends
or interact with them
in any meaningful way

there is a poem lurking
in me tonight,
accompanying me from nighttime
into the muddled currents of the wee hours,
awaiting for an ending
of this, this vigil,
or perhaps,
ejection from the birth canal

where and whence, it irritangly demands, is
my commencement,
the origination of its peculiar species,
to eternalize it,
tattoo a unique number
upon its wrist
in a ledger of words

they sent me a message that the
DedPoet is in deed
dead, gone, cremated

but that is not the poem
stalking me
right now

for now
vanilla numbing of the heart,
sadness that this fellow runner
of my human-writing race
is no more upon the track

but that is not the poem
talking to me
right now

every flutter of eyelash
is a line,
a forgotten fragmented verse,
a lost and gone forever Clementine,
even before the thought completed

numerous sun ray titles flash
but few are caught,
though all glimpsed in dazzled shining glory

the hook, line and sinker,
themselves, yeoman poets all,
have nothing to show

oh woe is me,
oh woe is me

there is a poem lurking
in my chest
yearning to be free
by being created

I know it not yet
in any form recognizable,
so well as it knows me
from our shared womb,
now torn

5:08 am
Sept. 30, 2015