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  Sep 2017 Juliet Swan
Charles Bukowski
I see you drinking at a fountain with tiny
blue hands, no, your hands are not tiny
they are small, and the fountain is in France
where you wrote me that last letter and
I answered and never heard from you again.
you used to write insane poems about
ANGELS AND GOD, all in upper case, and you
knew famous artists and most of them
were your lovers, and I wrote back, it' all right,
go ahead, enter their lives, I' not jealous
because we' never met. we got close once in
New Orleans, one half block, but never met, never
touched. so you went with the famous and wrote
about the famous, and, of course, what you found out
is that the famous are worried about
their fame -- not the beautiful young girl in bed
with them, who gives them that, and then awakens
in the morning to write upper case poems about
ANGELS AND GOD. we know God is dead, they' told
us, but listening to you I wasn' sure. maybe
it was the upper case. you were one of the
best female poets and I told the publishers,
editors, " her, print her, she' mad but she'
magic. there' no lie in her fire." I loved you
like a man loves a woman he never touches, only
writes to, keeps little photographs of. I would have
loved you more if I had sat in a small room rolling a
cigarette and listened to you **** in the bathroom,
but that didn' happen. your letters got sadder.
your lovers betrayed you. kid, I wrote back, all
lovers betray. it didn' help. you said
you had a crying bench and it was by a bridge and
the bridge was over a river and you sat on the crying
bench every night and wept for the lovers who had
hurt and forgotten you. I wrote back but never
heard again. a friend wrote me of your suicide
3 or 4 months after it happened. if I had met you
I would probably have been unfair to you or you
to me. it was best like this.
Juliet Swan Sep 2017
So precious is life
Until it's taken away

Whether by age or disease
Death is a shadow
Hiding in the trees
Waiting to wrap it's claws
Around your soul
Steal you away from Mars, oops I mean Earth

Why do we grieve
When we're supposed to celebrate
Why do we celebrate
When we're supposed to grieve
We hold our composure for the most part

  Then suddenly, it's like we're a work of art
                                                 We   E                     and rage
                                                          ­      X
                                                                ­   PLODE


        Until we don't know ourselves  
That's death c r e e p i n g, l u r k i n g
     Amongst the shadows
Waiting to send you back from once you came!

Reminding you
What's here today
Can be gone tomorrow
Then we'll feel the sorrow, the hurt, the regret
That's just more motivation
To push to enjoy every moment
Take in every breath
  
But you're living is not the same
as others
We're searching for a connect
Reasons to tell us why
How could we be filled with light,
Yet left in the dark?

By faith in Him
And a l l that we must endure
For
Death hides in your footprints
              Just waiting for that day
                                  To allure you away...
                                                         ­              ...
So, this is my first poem about death in this tone. I've recently lost a family member that died in front of me. I'm still not sure how to take it. This is all I've come up with.
  Aug 2017 Juliet Swan
Jay
This is what happens when little girls cry
They make little girl noise and bat their little girl eyes
And think their little girl plight is something of significance
When in reality it's a demonstration of ignorance
Constant reminder of her lack of life experience
Not trying to embarrass her so I won't ask what the difference is
She's crying to apologize while unaware of who the victim is
But I will let her know 'cause I really want her to get with this
Now don't get me wrong, my attitude's not belligerent
My sole goal alone is to grant her her deliverance
So she can understand that this revolves around malevolence
The result of my greed, my power and my selfishness
My constant arrogance
Self-proclaimed excellence
Lack of establishment
Fraudulent elegance
Unstructured sentiments
All rolled up in one and bowled down her lane
STRIKE
But I've changed
I was just a pretty face and okay base layer
But underneath I was as filthy as Ethiopian feet
Think of this as a feat, that you were the winner of
I could've given you everything but I'd have never given love
If number one was you, I'd have another number two
And you were number two until I made you number three
That's why I'm puzzled that you're apologizing to me
When you should say sorry to you, and '*******' to who I used to be
But I respect where her heart is now
She'll mature and evolve, life will show her how
With God's grace and patience your future will be amazing
And continue to race after all those dreams that you're chasing
Find a love so real that it's bracing
Make sure it's your heart song that they sing
Know that you're always in my good graces
Present yourself as if you are who the ace is
Take my apology and dig my grave with it
I'd hate to hold you back from what your true fate is
God Bless
Juliet Swan Aug 2017
Have you ever met someone
Made up of everyone
Everything she's ever encountered
So consumed with that make up
She doesn't know her true self
She can search far and deep
But the memories seem to be in a keep
Close enough to see but too far to reach
Else, they never existed beneath
Peel back her layers of skin
You'll find nothing within
For everything lives in her head
The dread,
The dreams,
The seams
That burst
She must be cursed
She won't give in
That is all I know.
Juliet Swan Apr 2017
Pause,
Along the lines of,
Universal time.
Suppress the hands of the minute and hour
Entrap my thoughts in a cage
PAUSE
Make sure to double lock them
And throw them away.
Don't forget to burn the key,
I really need a second to breathe
PAUSE
Perhaps, *a couple seconds more
Understanding me, the forever misunderstood
Stamped on my forehead,
Engraved on my skin.
PAUSE
Can you read me now?
Now that I'm,
drowning in seconds,
engulfed in minutes,
gone for hours.
Yet, time never
paused*....
  Mar 2017 Juliet Swan
Ben At93
I could tell you of a person she was,
Or how she made me smile,
I could tell you anything there is to be told,
But that may take a while,

But I'll tell you she was sweet,
And that she was one of a kind,
I'll tell you what she was to me,
And how she filled my mind,

I could tell you how much she'd sing,
Whenever happiness burnt her heart,
I could tell everything,
And know not when to stop,

But in her world there was another,
A world I could never understand,
May be I could have tried better,
But I could hold a grip of it by hand,

I will tell you she was a friend,
One I'll forever mourn her loss,
I'll tell you of her end,
And me before her was her choice,

She was a mother,
That's about all there is to say,
And I'll forever love her,
Just wish she'd spent one more day,
Juliet Swan Feb 2017
Having these thoughts
Of why?
Why do I have to publicize myself as ****?
So a boy can sweep me off my feet?
So I can have thousands of followers,
Who tell me all the time I look beautiful
With all these
false lashes, fake weaves, cake on my face
Why is this beautiful to you?
And why am I shamed if I don't do it?
I'm sorry if I'm "old school",
But I'll happily prance around in your long t-shirts.
Make up free,
Wind kissing my scalp as my natural hair blows free,
Sun radiating off my skin,
Melanin issued by the Gods.
Thank the Gods I'm just me.
Carefree, eventually.
Until then I'm part one versus part two.
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