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I am like a rambling rogue
my happiness still homeless
and trouble an old stray dog
that follows me everywhere I go
misunderstanding must be my shadow
for it will not leave me alone
my mind is a haunted highway
and these bandits never pass me by
well I've drank from the trickle of entitlement
with its undercurrent of oppression
and I've wandered the lonely hills
and been lost in the valley of the found
I've camped in fields of foolishness
I've swam in the river of the ******
I've skinny dipped in self destruction
and seen reason buried in the ground
I've known madness a midnight blanket
that sinks in swifter than quicksand
sometimes with less sound
and every season it seems
that tragedy paints the leaves
and misery parts the clouds
and if I didn't know better
I'd say that old oak
was dripping not with sap
but with satire
and I know betrayal fills these seas
and the tides turn with nothing but unrest
and the winds sing of their unease
and if pain were the first flower of spring
it would bloom a little too often
and if the moon could hear me cry
I would howl at it no longer
and if the sun were not a spy
that gave up every day
to rise again so brilliantly
like a child that ran away
and if the sky did not weep with rain
with a thunderstorm for a stomach
and a lightning heart
for an enlightening soul
I then would be on my own
but these roads are paved with mystery
and I can't help but wonder
what the horizon holds
so I travel this realm with optimism
ready as my adventure unfolds
FOR MORE POETRY PICK UP YOUR COPY OF 'FOREVER SAYS MY PUNCH DRUNK HEART' AVAILABLE NOW ON AMAZON https://www.amazon.co.uk/Forever-Says-Punch-Drunk-Heart-ebook/dp/B01E9VW3PA
I spend more money
on books and *****
than I do on women
than I do on food
this is my necessity
my foolish bare necessity
this is my fire
my coal
my fuel
https://rivislives.wordpress.com/
Just in the pubs and clubs
******* our own gear around
Seemingly, always upstairs
For weddings and birthday parties
Sorting out miles of wires
Well-worked practise

But when those amps were turned on
With an audible amplified thud
As switches are flicked
And their lights gaze like tiny red eyes
That's when I am ready

First number and the drums and bass
Connect to create new heartbeats
And now I'm into it
Not the man in the mill anymore
I'm the frontman for the band
And the music soars through me

As the night goes on and grows
The crowd has grown and is dancing
Gaining energy from the music
And feeding it back to us in turn
Now THIS is being alive

And so it was

                                 By Phil Roberts
I never fell off a good bass riff but I fell off stage once or twice :)
 Apr 2017 Richard Grahn
wordvango
vesparations
a word I just created
seems to be in desperation
not finding a synonym
in my google thesaurus so I invented
it
a combinating  psuedonym
a conjagulations freebiddanence
a twelve lettered
sort of word
that suits my aim right now
to a tee
or is that t?
or tea?
**** inventing words
is frustrating...
 Apr 2017 Richard Grahn
wordvango
mom
mom,
sorry about the roses and the broken vase
sorry about your birthday I missed
again

I am the little imbecile  you created
after all
heard you call my sisters ******
swear at them all night long

been in the circle when you swung that belt threatening all of us
"who stole my Snicker's bar"
so sorry
all of us forgot mother's day

let's see if you get anything next year
Dancing honeybees
would understand my desire
when I kiss your lips
xoxo
Pour the moon upon this netherworld
Like white plaster dripping from tall trees ,
may it pool at the base of evergreens
May it form streams illuminating the nighttime world
Bringing mans trepidations to light
May it drown pain and suffering tonight
Pour the moon upon my world* ...
Copyright April 5 , 2017 by Randolph L Wilson * All Rights Reserved
 Apr 2017 Richard Grahn
ryn
He presents what you see
with impeccable finesse.
He hides everything else behind the curtains.
Heavily veiled by his smiles...
Cleverly masked behind his script.

He stands elevated, taking his stage.
From his vantage he sees all.
He allows his facade to bask in the light...
Whilst keeping his back in the shadow.

He's renowned.
By the light that kills the dark.
He's addicted to the nightly ovations,
cascading cheers and gleaming reviews.

But every show has an end.
Come every dawn, he wakes to the reality
that tolls at his door.
He's owned and he knows it...
Too well,
by the stage he built
and the drama he wrote and casted.
the sunflowers gleamed
in the noon day sun
their flourish of color
couldn't be out done

the sparrows flitted
above their ravishing visages
they were enchanted
by their dazzling mirages
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