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Michael Murphy Dec 2015
There is rutabaga, and ratatouille, gotta love alliteration
Then Albuquerque and Tallahassee, are somewhere in our nation

And Saskatoon, Saskatchewan found in Canada, my dear
In old colloquial, there were hooligans and shenanigans, I fear

At school I use a dongle it connects me to my work
I hope I didn't bumfuzzle you, didn't mean to be a ****

Just one more word on my short list and to see what it can do
Find the one you love and in sweet soft voice just turn and utter **"pooh"
Michael Murphy Dec 2015
I gaze upon the universe, so vast but yet so small

Thinking is the fuel I use to travel through it all

In a thought I'm in our Sun, a solar flare I ride, so fun

I hum a tune, guess where now? It was "Fly me to the Moon" , oh wow!

I travel now to other worlds, even bluer than our Earth

Look, I see people here, and a mother giving birth

Will her child both love and hate, and will her brother agitate?

Will she worship?  Will she pray?  Will she pledge her life obey?

Is her God, my God, and heaven all the same?

Of Jesus, she has never heard, and God is not his name

Here me now, I know this true, for I'm am dead, yes me, not you!

When she dies, she'll be with me, floating free, as energy!

Amen
Who knows?  I do believe it will be beautiful! It has always bothered me that most religions exclude other life, both on Earth and in the Universe.
Michael Murphy Dec 2015
Oh, Stranger on a Plane, we connected right away

Confiding all our deepest thoughts, the love game we did play

Through intimate words and loving glance, as we flew we did romance

In fleeting flight and fantasy, in moment loved, now memory!
Michael Murphy Dec 2015
You learned to be a victim, at a very early age
Father beating mother and witnessing the rage

Crying mother in the night, her pleas that went unheard
Knowing that it wasn't right, your life you thought absurd

Mother learned from mother, then passed it down to you
There is no blame, there is no shame, for it's all you ever knew

Now the time has come my friend, to rise and fly above
You have a daughter of your own, the one you truly love

You say that you're a writer, you wield a mighty pen
I say to you, "then write your life," pay attention to the end

Write of new beginnings, your history be ******
Write of all your strength, and love, and feel your joy expand

So be the author of your life, your legacy control
Now break the cycle of abuse, dig deep within your soul

On stormy seas your daughter sails, seeking mother's light
So brilliant shine the life you pen, to guide her through the night
  Dec 2015 Michael Murphy
TigerEyes
You should know by now that everyone see’s
what they want to see
Yeah, their own version of a fantasy

it’s so twisted, and conflicted
it’s so manic n’ sadistic
cause they’ll color you with love
then they'll color you with hate
you better run right now
cause time is run'n late
Oh, and girl --
You’ve met him a million times
Oh yeah,  you've memorized all his lines
cause, it’s a pattern that you know
called the one trick pony show

He likes his women dressed like dolls
(when he decides to finally call)
he rates you on a scale from one to ten
You say -- not this *&%# again!
before you hang up on the phone
you scream, "You're so creepy, and you're lame"
Whoops - I just forgot your name

you'd  end up being the bi*ch or,
you could end up being the saint
or, maybe it's so **** twisted
they really got so addicted
to all the pain, and the pleasure
(you were his little treasure)
that he so sadistically inflicted
Paint you, black —
Paint you, blue —

Yeah, paint you until he’s through
This poem is copyrighted and stored in author base. All material subject to Copyright Infringement laws
Section 512(c)(3) of the U.S. Copyright
Act, 17 U.S.C. S512(c)(3), Krisselle S. Cosgrove December 1st, 2015
  Dec 2015 Michael Murphy
J B Moore
Read the pages of ancient lore,
Where a creature lives in days of yore.
With violet, black, and silent wings
In the dark, a wretched thing.

Over bloodstained fields of dead men's flesh, 
Bringing forth the sting of death,
Silently soaring, with talons sharp
Quickly tearing the weak apart.

Who can stop it, strong and wise,
Seeing everything, with it's watchful eyes.
Never sastified, wanting more,
It's greed rotting it to the core.

Among the shadows it spends it's time
Plotting carefully within his mind
For the next time you come around,
 You'll try to scream, but won't make a sound.

He'll take what you have, to the very last straw,
Quickly and quietly as you watch in awe.
In the depths of your soul he deeply stares
You should be thankful if your life he spares 

He sees himself as full of power
Not knowing there will come an hour
At the time when no one else can hear
And the shadows he himself should fear.

For long ago, in days of yore, 
Within the pages of ancient lore
The dark became his haven, 
And he called himself The Raven

4/15/14
Michael Murphy Dec 2015
I am good with life, and life is good with me*

We have battled

shed blood, and puddles of tears
fill the footsteps of our struggle

We have loved deeply

melded spirits lifted above an unswept life
exposing the naked elegance of the universe

We have learned through reflection*

now in evening hours, battered and cut, toothless and bloodied,
looking out and laughing at conquered obstacles

wiser from experience, fear is now friend, not foe
love is embraced as the magic elixor, and learning continues
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