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 Nov 2015 Nico Allentine
Liam

a life I never owned,
a sacrifice I never tried,
a fade away dream
I never step
upon
.
Lost in trail
craziness in a mess
blown away on unexpected things
I let go of the dream
I just couldn't
have
.

collab with Pax
 Nov 2015 Nico Allentine
Pax
I tried to stop being depress,
and start making friends.
But then…
I build too many walls,
Just to hide my flaws
always fearing they’ll crumble.
And...
In the end I can’t stop my thoughts
when I’m alone, reoccurring questions it sought.
Burdens comes falling,
Rushing like the tide, washing
pushing away
the happy mask
I wore.
I haven't been writing much as of late. Maybe because like the first two lines said. Yes, I did make some friends and bond with them. It's great being able to joke around and laugh here and there... But I know deep down I still built too many walls, they can't see what's there, Perhaps I am too good in wearing this mask, that some people didn't see what's lurking behind it.
~~~

early Saturday morn marked,
looks as if it will be a as-scheduled,
chill fall brisk one, a November blend,
sun wants in, but clouds say,
uh-uh, no way Jose,
yet the yellow star insists, persists

the bed so coy, suggests a ploy


stay with me, stay with her,
ready steady in this hearts hearth,
let this Saturday be an Ogdiddynasherday


*the blonde deep sleeps,
covers up to the nose,
she doesn't know
and never will

that the edges of my eyes filled with tears,
watery from amniotic fluid,
a byproducts of this days first time ever
birthday

a moment morning marked, colored by
early morn re-readings of prior poems,
of darling love mended with tender,
writ expressly for her,
over the years of being
together~tethered

soon that other pair (of eyes) will open,
in a new way,
anew the day,
a whole new world,
a seventh day resting,
unaware of my steadfast guardian,
over-watching protection

will inform her of the Saturday menu,
stay in bed with her obedient server-man,
performing continual catch up
on who we are and why we be a we,
with out ever thinking
that's a good idea,
just like this poem came unplanned,
just an unscheduled day in bed,
woman and man,
with a new poem snuggling
in between
November 7, 2015
7:02 am
nyc
How Many Calories in a Poem?


visualizing the invisible,
we deconstruct the content,
the in-titled label reviewed,
querying,
is this one worth the cost?

looking for true fiber,
then further inquire,
perchance,
are there grams of
kick-starting emotive proteins,
stored and lurking within,
homes for the cells
that will inspire, transform,
mere readers into mountainous writers

lean on those scripts,
injected with just hints,
resting ribbons of flavorful fat equipped,
for there will always be
the tyranny
of the those of the sparse faith,
those writers of haiku brevity,
believers that
fat free,
is the only,
but lonely,
bene of beauty

death from ignorance to those
who would poison the fruit
of the alphabet tree,
coat produce, with glossy chemicals,
that preserve the shiny exteriors,
cooking up false feasts interior,
saturating us with the trans-fats of trite,
oily verbosity and labels of organic,
that conceal the risks of
hyper-pretensivity

an every poem, seasoned for taste,
a dash of diamond sea salts,
scatter on pinches of pearls
of Caribbean cane sugar,
sprinkle human sins and cinnamon
for zest and tang,
for inspiration and flavoring,
for the souls tonguing tastebuds,
needy for reasons
to celebrate  commissioning
the enticing exhalations of appreciative
oohs and ahs!

Warning!
this poem was processed
in a old, out-of-date factory,
that is most assuredly not,
nat-nut free*

but even if allergic,
be unafraid to taste the acerbic,
for there are
poems
suited for everyones, even your
peculiarities

you want your essayed poems
to brim healthy caloric,
grow them as offshoots
of your very own organs

you need not seek anothers certification,
if filled they are
with the mettle of iron,
built to be
calcium-fortified structures,
with the perpetual strong bones
of rhyme and sonnet

let each worded edifice
be the food,
stored to be gifted
to our progeny,
by their ever living on,
marking us,
marking them

omit the trite,
we ken no need,
for it is the false emptiness of
misleading carbohydrates,
that only fatten,
for the briefest satisfaction,
purposed for the killing of fulfilling,
dulling that which only
a well prepared
dish poetic,
can bring to healthy enliven
the human spirit




Nov. 12, 2015
Aboard Delta #2499
5:10 pm
when you are trying to lose weight, you obsess about bad calories
in everything...
With turbid minds
And mercurial hearts,
One must never forget
To stay close to a flame
That burns to warm
Opposed to burning to
End.
In this life, there are sources that warm us and guide us. On the contrary, there are sources that are selfishly driven and would have no problem burning  us and everything else to ashes.
I turned over every stone kicking through my brain.
Looking for the answers to my endless questions.
Trying to grasp the rips in my emotional tether.
Thinking up a million ways in which we could have been together.

I've got a perspective with ten thousand ends to this story.
And in all of them.
There's only one which leaves me feeling weak and lonely.
The one in which I keep my feelings to myself only.

I've gotta find some power and some resolve.
To do the things that make me whole.
I don't want to look back on my life in regret.
Forced to blame others like they stole.

Because to own up to it is just too painful.
That I had never learned.
To be strong and to speak with definition.
This is my minds extradition.

For the all the injustices to the heart.
For holding me back with a cloudy judgment.
Useless thoughts from the start.
This is the abandonment.
© All Rights Reserved Jack Thompson 2015
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