4h patty m
A caw-
ing of birds
with blunt
-ed beaks
and clip-
ped wings
that can’t fly
or sing
worth a lick
-ety split
ing and peck
-ing a-way
at the best
ing inside
a chest
-full of
ing Blue
felt art
songs in-
of sing
-ing along
ing they
know better
-   the rest?
This in response to the deletion of a great and true HP Poet’s account tonight as a result of constant harassment by at last count 13 dumbass, iealous, couldn’t write a decent poem if the male har-ass-ers tripped over their stupid pricks and the idiotic wagging female tongues who all took part in this. You know who you are. This harassment was reported to HP and to Eliot directly without the courtesy of a reaponse, and without action to curb it. The creation of monitors was a total waste of time. Many of you know her as Vicki. I’m sick of this kind of shit done by supposed adults, and sickened most of all by HP’s allowing this to continue even after multiple messages. As far as I’m concerned, the Guidelines and the so-called monitors aren’t worth a fucking dime. Which is exactly 10 cents more than I’ll ever again contribute to HP.  Go ahead and lock me ip, put me in the corner for awhile, or expel me. I don’t care. Maybe  we will see if the monitors are paying attention at all, or just another silly myth. If you’re a monitor and reading this, I would like to hear your thoughts after you wake the fuck up.
Most Sincerely,
  1d patty m
In the twinkling of on eye
Time passes us by
In a fleeting moment
Dead skin turns to dust
Still I feel I must
Insist on going slow
Letting each moment linger
With plenty of room to grow

In each of us
A rite of passage
A special trip
Our own hell's
From beginning unending
We search for soul
In the physical realm
Of human cells

The greatest reward
Is to always be growing
In your love
And in your soul
And even greater
The love we're showing
While we're gracefully
Growing old
Traveler Tim
Deep in abyss of
The evening
I couldn’t sleep...
Just like a wolf
My mind always on the hunt
Body’s craving love
The beast crying inside
Ready to come out and play  
If you get my drift
The Sheep
My Queen
Deeply into her beauty rest
While lava running through my veins
Temperature increasingly getting hotter
Must find a way to cool off
So I stepped out the door
Ventured forth along the edge of night
Close to the creek
Not too far away from where I dwell
Momentarily I’ve noticed
the Moon wasn’t it’s  full self
Yet still so beautifully bright
Surrounded by shining stars
Oh my what a beautiful Sky
Goose bumps caressing my flesh
Loss of words trying to enjoy the moment
Not long after lava started piercing through my skin
A simple reminder our business not yet realized
Suddenly the moon appeared
back to it’s full glory self
So I went back inside
With silent foot like a predator
Gave my  Queen a kiss on the neck
she turned And smiled
Like always, she knew
She always knows
Never afraid of my darkness
For she knows it represents
Love and be loved
I slowly slipped away
The cover she was under
Her waist gave an invitation
Only a beast like a wolf
can truly appreciate
time for me to draw some blood
Forever  lightly never too deep
Just enough to taste her beauty
She dances like a wolf
Her wildness became wilder
It drove me crazy forevermore
The hair on my skin
Flirtatiously tango with excitement
Finally the beast awaits within
Slowly creeping out with conscious
Of safety
Flowers of garden forevermore
Beautifully arranged
I thanked the man above
For my dear Queen
And simply shut my eyes
And feast
Like a wolf!
He told his story to the press
“Smiling Skipper” they said
But I wonder why they didn’t ask
To hear my voice, instead
But then, you see, I cannot speak
I cannot even grin
So there’s little I can do to tell
The world of the state I’m in
I heard he claimed he did his best
To be sure he’s looking great
But he would not smile if he was me
And he knew what would be his fate
Only last week I was free to swim
And enjoy my plankton meal
On all the Isles you couldn’t have found
A more contented seal
Bu the manmade whale spilled its innards
And my skin is blistered and raw
And his acid juice has spoiled the sea
That washes on my shores
I cannot see, I cannot swim
I cannot even crawl
And, if I were to try and climb the rocks
I’m certain that I would fall
So, could you be a voice for me
And tell the world my  tale
Before this acid takes a hold
And all of my senses fail
Go tell “the smiling Skipper” to tell
Once more the tale he’s told
Then ask him just who pays the price
He asks for his black gold
for all of the creatures that cannot speak for themselves
Once, her dazzle dropped diamonds in his eyes.
Now, stark pain palls the shimmer in her guise.
With clipped wing feathers, can a bird fly?
When his selfish whims tilt her dreams awry.

A breath does she need like warm morning rain;
Not stones of hail cluttering some morbid pain.
A breeze in green boughs, rustling sweet vows;
Not a thunder of throes struck by his brows.

Woes wilt white roses when die promises.
Mold daubed pages of sad reminiscence.
Run rills of ruin down smudge streaked countenance.
There's but stars that retain her radiance.

A lost voice she seeks to quell woes and whims;
There's time to seize in the dark of her dreams.
Words take over when mind has not much to say
On this juncture to fare a great friend well.
Limp swung my heart on a despair-strung end,
Ticking sad tocks to that sun attired friend.

Oblivion! That murky sea of fears!
Dive deep wise words to bring her in bright tears!
Like Prometheus brought fire in a reed,
Words give all we need to shun shadows' greed.

Who sadly cries with pearls so proud and wise,
When strolls a wet child the shores of his eyes?
This child, pearl strung her locks, a sunrise walks,
My door rings her knocks from bright fizzing shores.

Dare I... her step fall in... and wear her sheen,
Wherein I have seen what's in her guileless green?
This farewell poem is a tribute to a departing colleague's sterling character and professional attitudes with which I have been greatly inspired. So, the poem seeks to defy any blur of oblivion that distance may bring between the two separated work partners. I'm sharing it here to offer a different perspective about the splendor in tears when it comes to faring a great person well. I hope you enjoy it, too.

The poem is written in iambic pentametre with seven full rhymed doublets. It conforms neither to the rhyme scheme or stanza structuring of a sonnet. It only resembles a sonnet and I don't know what to call its structure. I only intended greater musicality in this full rhymed iambic format in pentametre. Alliteration and inner rhyme are key sound devices in providing a luminous flowing cadence to the poem.
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