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 May 2017 mikecccc
wordvango
it is distressing, just all of life and
how I see other's motivations
at times,  through certain incidences
I feel so sorry
for  others who go on blindly
following
the propaganda
the stupidity,
I rhyme in defiance
to all of that,
or in blind eyed
optimism, a furor freed,
I wish by god, for all of us,
for our little spinning world
to take each other's hands
one day and see
we are all
just alike,
just molecules and little
galaxies
with black holes
and the brightest suns.
 May 2017 mikecccc
Steve Page
How many poets
Does it take to change a light bulb?

Two.
One to hold the ladder.
And one to tearfully consider the transitive nature of existence compounded by the tragedy of the assumption of replacement without true celebration of the individuality found at the heart of the mass produced and the beauty that can be found in a frail light fighting against the darkness inherent in an unfair world.
Ño reason.  It just seemed a question worth asking
 May 2017 mikecccc
spysgrandson
he sits on the curb
all twelve years of him,
waiting to be a teen

when he'll have to pay
adult price for a movie ticket
or bus pass

he usually has no cash
for either; but wishing and waiting
are art forms to him

he's learned to move
the brush of time slowly on life's palette
while he watches others whizzing by

on their store-bought skateboards
and Huffy ten speed bikes, while he has
only one gear for two feet

which now are clad in Keds
from the thrift store, and planted
firmly on the cement

by the drain gutter,  where he
last saw his favorite possession, a Super Ball,
get ****** into the sewer

when the storm ended, he yanked
off the manhole cover and crawled into
the dark, but the ball was gone forever

when he came back into the street,
yet lamenting his round loss, more boys
on bikes buzzed by

their circles safely spinning
on asphalt, far from the gutter and curb where
he once again sat--wishing, waiting

Baltimore, 1965
 May 2017 mikecccc
Lawrence Hall
[again violating my rule never to write in the first-person]

Withdrawal Symptoms

So I’m not going to change the world after all
That’s okay; it was doing fine without me
The moon arose last night without my supervision
This morning the sun was up before I was

And, true, there are bad men and women about
But I didn’t do so very well myself
It’s better that I didn’t change many things
And better had I worked on changing myself

Age is aware of its own absurdity
And wisely it withdraws from messing things up

     A cup of coffee now would be so nice
 May 2017 mikecccc
mrmonst3r
it goes
nowhere

this anger with no .
Compass.
So it sinks
into my gut.
Never digested,
Just a festering pain
Stored with
all the rest.
Cut into tributaries
Crimson with purpose.
The streams
they burn and flow.
 May 2017 mikecccc
k
I walk around feeling like a bullet wound. / like I am shot full of holes and always bleeding out. This is the type of pain that you can never find reprieve from. / I put my love and trust in a number of emotional assasins. / Well disguised as friends and lovers. / Then, in one fell swoop a wrecking ball was taken to the entirety of my life. / I quietly collected the salvagible pieces and receeded off into the shadows. / I have been clutching the shattered fragments close to my chest ever since. / sometimes it draws blood. / sometimes it makes it hard to breathe.
An excerpt from a book I will probably never write
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