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prayer of hope, for young and old, who suffer from the slings and arrows sadness and the loss of love; I offer up this prayer of hope and offer you my hand around your shoulders until you no longer require it

more than once,
for lengthy periods,
by events, other people,
my self was eradicated
and limping from day
to night, and J faced
absolutes, choices choking,
alternating alternatives that
offered zero, or even less
than zero, and the inkwell
wasn't refillable, and I could
point to nothing yet encouraging a mystifying purposed existence

then came a woman

who asked nor proffered
conditionals
pre, prior post or otherwise
and
offered up the miraculous
drink, human kindly notice,
snd it
drained the bitters,
began fluid replacement,
and slow resuscitation

and then
poems rebirthed me,
 liberated the angry sacred
gory sadness words devoid of glory,
with a reworded score, and
the eyes could write without
a patina filter of jaundiced hatred,
and whispered private internally
many times a beloving
hallelujah

and when ever the remembrance of
the near misses are crackly occasionally appearing, the surge dissipates intact quick
into a netherworld for suppressing
and bid "away with you," and a
thin lipped smile part sneer
for having survived
even
prospered when
                    then came a woman

and the self, the my self,
returned
after an absence of destructed
decades...deadening decades

and I smile when
the grandchildren tell me
knock knock jokes
and gently knock me on the head,
to make sure I'm alert,
then came woman
who had already~all ready
knocked me on the
heart
lipstadt  reflections of self
it ain't easy, when you relate, restrict and delegate,
when you draw a narrow lane on a highway that says
only left footed
poets need apply
<>
it does not say
slow cars stay to the right,
only trucks,
or oddly even,
no trucks



I love seasonality,
without thickly thinking
you take a break
from the poetry writing

one day I'll figure out a way
to monetize my love poems,
publish them as Shakespeare's couple(t)s,
"new edition plus
a couple of
newfound poems!"

maybe some fools will buy some thinking Shakespeare has been, resurrected!

love grows goes hot all over and
grow slower older
and grow colder,
in between those fine
ticklish teasing moments


when the miracle of resurrection repeats itself

something is said
a gesture is made
a finger strokes the cheek,
unexpected
and it all comes
rushing back again,
overfilling
that coffee cup mug she bought
just(ice)
for you

ain't gonna check how long it's been
since last I declaimed, disclaimed,
inflamed,
these pages with an only love poem

but I do know this:
it is something I think about,
It is something I know about,
it is something I feel about
daily
even on the nothing days,
when routine takes over
I know you couldn't remember of its passage,
is the waking up and the lying down to sleep


but the poets eyes are always open his emotive secret senses,
always alert,
what's that thing they always say,

his heart just wasn't in it!
(🥴if they only knew the truth😘)
The words and lines
aren't coming today.
I lie down for a nap.
I dreamt of metaphors
and similes.
I woke up.
The years swim away
like bass at spawning
time.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7tpMDoNXg_U
Here is a link to my you tube channel where I read my poetry from my recently published books, Sleep Always Calls, It's Just a Hop, Skip, and a Jump to the Madhouse, and Seedy Town Blues Collected Poems, all are available on Amazon.
not  the prophylactic kind,
nor the rubber kiss road tire kind.

but the rubber of bodies
old and young,
tired and tense,
young and flexible
migrained, played & splayed,
pain paralyzed,
soothed by cherubic
fingertips
oiled with,
anointed by,
a-custom cream
of tenderizing aloe
and gentling, kind loving
quieting & shushing

tho mine own temples,
raging, feverish,
combobulating
as words spill as *******
and then

she
sleepy whines:
why did you stop rubbing me?


and for
a sleep deep,
she leaves
me,
going unanswered

but happily
nonetheless
boy be typing
**The End
 Jun 14 onlylovepoetry
Dency
You know
In the hush between words
In the way a name
Feels lighter or heavier
On the tongue.

You know when it's love
Not by the flowers they bring
Bt by how they stay
When the pedals fall.

You know who's yours
And who's only passing
Through the hollow
Of your hope .

You know who holds you
With clean hands
And who touches you
With doubt.

You know who to trust
By the silence
That doesn't sting.

You know  who to choose
By how your soul softens
When they speak.

You always know
Before the goodbye
Before the first lie
Before the ache .

Even when you pretend
You don't
You do.

Because when it's real,
You never have to ask
Bt when it's not,
No answer ever fits


You know
You've always known.
"Let us rebuild, so that,
we may be no
longer a reproach",… it is just

business/ Nehemiah spake
put this on your business card

directly, in spirit, to David
Barton, inspirational director,
for many a proud warrior for truth.

Jesus lives, we rise, we agree, in me.

Where lay the Kingdom of God, back then,
when he is recorded as having said,
I will, my will being done, abide
side any who hear the knock,

as an innocent, or a lying, cheating scoundrel,
that's the good news, war has never worked,
peacemaking all ways works, one on one.

Honed most point, tip to tip... touch
spirit face to spirit face
messenger to message, dare we say
in the presence of at least as many as
have testified to seeing grave dwellers walking,

most certainly there was darkness, and that curtain,

between the holiest of holies, and every day sanctity,
ripped… rippity re-occurence right down the middle,
opening all reality
to the Wizard
of Oz's most esoteric

special effect
on the ensuing Easter audiences, seeing
it, over and over, until the metaphor, the riddle becomes

dabar, a very humble word translated many ways, see::

Pens with motors are more powerful than swords,
of any sort… logos significant cannot loose dabar yah, we

in this form minding manners men agree to abide beneath,

but
but
but
on good advice,
from bar mitzvahed friends, dead and living,

the use of labor, during interesting times, as mobs

to make unified mind form encase believers in
situations indisputably dangerous, used right

by godfearing law enforcement officers, right
used by a leader exactly, to the hairs on his head,

like the guy on television who crashed all those casinos.
Supposed to be, and is my protest, not in vain, but seedful dabar is what Ezekial said made him riddle metaphorically, few Sunday schools use the riddle he made.
Eze 17
We move through the night,
though the streets seem empty,
we look left and right,
electric vehicles are stealthy.

As we exercise stepwise, sunrise happens.
and black night fades its cover.
Like phoresy, painted, pieces of heaven,
the day opens with primary colors—
reds that delight, oranges that tease
and peacocking yellows that leaven.

As the counterfeit rainbow enchants and rouses,
streetlights waver and douse,
lights flicker on in houses,
and the earth blossoms active in borrowed hues.

Morning twinkles with its particular, angular light,
as we enter the still still lobby.
They’ve already set out the coffee!
With a sip, I feel the morning's started right.
.
.
Songs for this:
Day Tripper by MonaLisa Twins
Our Day Will Come by Amy Winehouse
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