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Atop the emerald earth,
a bush of crimson ablaze.
Blush of sunrise.
Bruised rouge of sunset.

Kaleidescope colors of
complex designs complete.
Ahh..but for the lingering questions.
Questions that continue with the
fresh of each day...

Rita...We call to Rita!
Our ethereal selves.
She calls, We come
Into her night of dreams
Woven within her dreams of day.
We come in Our
Saintly stance.

Rita hears.
Knows Our hearts.
And so to her,
We present ourselves.

Rita feels
the plush nuance
of Our ancient wisdom.
A melding of truths

Rita knows
She is a conduit
through which the
breath of message
and knowledge exchange.

'Sine timore'
Without timidity or fear.
Imbued deep within
her Irish blood.
Gift passed from the elders.

Yet, this Lass of yore,
stands away from the podium.
Has chosen not to grandstand,
or grasp boldness too tightly.

Goodness of power is embraced
laced with enchantment.
Able to transcend The Veil,
She walks Her path.
Our winsome
Saint of Impossible Causes.
 Jan 2016 Mike Essig
JR Rhine
madness! madness! madness!

the mad ones are madness!
the minds are destroyed by madness!
ginsberg is madness!
kerouac is madness!
shakespeare is madness!
"perhaps" is madness!
duality is madness!
dichotomy is madness!
juxtaposition is madness!
oxymoron is madness!
paradox is madness!
love is merely a madness!
and it's all in my mind--

perhaps it isn't madness,
after all.
For Frank.
 Jan 2016 Mike Essig
A Lopez
To many complain
On others
Writes-
How about
Instead
Complaining-
Write-
Instead of maiming
Be polite-
In
Stead of claiming
To be right,
For once take
It your wrong-
Instead of turning abhoring
Into daily trending,
Make poetry beauty
With your poems and song,
Instead of minding everyone elses
Business.
Mind yours,
Instead of back talking-
Close your door.
If your not here to write
Leave this premises-
Instead of using jealously
As anger,
Put down your acts of dennis-
The mennis- instead of making f.e,a,r
Mongering this sites boutique-
Search inside yourself,
Fix the you that is weak.
If claims dont match no names
Hush, to your sleep.
I'm here to write-
Were here to write-
Not fight about your
Bad week.
Decide to speak out for a change for the plaster saints
Have ran across some vile people on this site, who have large claims, yet no confirmation to back any claiming, as I see
This page that I adore carries a boatload of delusional thoughts, words that come from made up thoughts, that really make some of these people lose more followers, and lose their minds, though I'm here to write,
Not be
As miserable
As so many trolls I've endured! But these aren't trolls as I have heard these are human beings, who seems, loves misery with
Company, I won't be a company to anyone, just to share,
Like, and explore other poets writes, and open to some on a
Poetics level, that's the name of this game- poetry- not trolletry
 Jan 2016 Mike Essig
Sean Hunt
Sarah last wrote a poem
Around  New Year's Eve
I wonder where her poems are
They seem to have drifted
Very far
She has not been seen
Nor her words heard
Around the world
As they were
Last Year
I hope muteness is not
Her New Year's resolution
As a solution
To something
I wonder how is Sarah
The angry Poet
And how are the men
At the end of her pen

Sean Hunt
Jan 9, 2016 Windermere
My 8 track tape is now a museum piece, **** carpet is a health hazard now. No one knows what disco is, and bell bottoms are back in style. Life revolves in a circle. Some things that were old are new. Once I could read the album print, not I need glasses to see the news. I have slowed down as of late, a trampoline is an enemy of the state. If I am not 30 minutes early, then I consider myself to be late. Everyone is driving too fast, and music is now too loud. I'm not sure what blue tooth is, I think I will ask my doctor the next time my yearly check up comes around. I hear about mp3 but I am not sure what movie rating that is. Jokes I still think are funny, just annoy and embarrass  my grand kids. Loafers are fashionable and I don't have to bend over and tie my shoes. Elastic in my pants is welcome when ever I want to breathe. I seldom have time to watch t.v. since I spend all day watching what I  eat. I have come to a fore drawn conclusion that I must admit, I am old I think.
 Jan 2016 Mike Essig
A Lopez
Mi amor
 Jan 2016 Mike Essig
A Lopez
Claim me as
Yours-
Mi amor
 Jan 2016 Mike Essig
Olivia Kent
I spied with my open eye a rabbit.
A wild one.
Brown with black ears.
Was beside the dual carriageway on the pavement.
Indecisive it shall be.
To meet fast trains upon the track.
Bunny please look before you leap.
In front of car or train.
For I shall weep.
More surely than the dawning.
For now is night-time and bunnies play.
And yet somehow a miracle.
They play on verges and near train tracks.
Always and onwards no turning back.
Yet tomorrow I shall come across the bridge.
My funny bunnies still play.
On occasions a rat dashes by my feet.
I don't like wild rats, but the bunnies are real sweet.
(c)LIVVI
In daylight the rabbits hide in darkness the  roads are buzzing with  traffic.
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