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My latest two poems are neck and neck
As they jockey back and forth for position
They're both getting the same reads and hate to concede
They hope the other will break a leg is what they're wishing

They both came to rhyme this fine morning
Up to the gate one after another
You'd think they'd be friends coming from the same hand
Instead of battling it out with each other

But this is where we are today
This the 2nd day of May
It's the Kentucky derby of Hello Poetry
So let's place those bets before the end of the race
Just watching my poems from this morning battle it out
this poem won't be here very long
as it's set to venture out on its own
taking on its on life, tossing me to the side
and after all i've done to help in its write

this poem would like to see all the sites
from one end to the other of dizzying heights
not wanting to sit on the page as its ink fades
with the yellowing of paper wasting away

this poem is packing its bag of all of its rhyme
preparing itself for its long goodbye flight
with all other poems wondering whats going on
as this poem ventures out on its own
The world takes out its blade
And whittles away
On all that you do
On all that you say

Pared to the bone are you
Naked without cover
All of your dignity stripped away
Nothing is left in the souls bay

Sometimes though its blades
Are ***** and dull
As it whittles you
Into something you're not

The disfigurement of you
At the cruel knife's behest
Where a lasting scar
Stays ingrained in your breast

You find you slowly bleed out
From what you once were
Beginning to end
Carved up by the world

The redeemable pieces of yourself are pasted together
To go forward with the tools of hope
The spirit within is broken
But in this life you find a way to cope
Another collaboration with my friend from down under!
Agnes McDuff collected strange stuff,
Or so the story goes:

There were old pots and pans,
String, rubber bands,
Boxes and boxes of clothes,
Newspapers, plates,
Books stored in crates,
And candlesticks lined up in rows.
Some mason jars,
Toy trucks and cars,
A model train with a whistle that blows,
Needles and spools,
All kinds of tools,
And shoes with holes in the toes.

There were tables and chairs,
Bookends in pairs,
A grandfather clock that was broke,
An old brass spittoon,
Some Sunday cartoons,
And a bicycle mssing a spoke.
Four or five hundred old wooden blocks,
Twenty-three pair of grey woolen socks,
A Christmas Edition bottle of Coke,
A board game missing directions,
A bat, a ball, a catcher’s mitt, two baseball card collections,
And a great big rusty tuba.  What a joke!

There was other stuff, but you’ve heard enough;
About what was stored in
The Attic of Agnes McDuff.

Part 2
Agnes’ attic was quite special
But not for the things it contained
But for how she had to get there
Please let me explain!

Agnes had a one-story house
A flight of stairs led to the attic.
When she opened up the door,
The light came on automatic.

It opened to a hallway
Where there was another door
Another light, another hall, and more stairs, which
Led back down to the first floor!

Where an elevator waited
To take her up again?
But it had just one button
And it was numbered “10”.

When she pushed it, it was crazy
The elevator turned upon its side,
Grew wheels and drove out on the street
For an amazing ride!

Across a long suspension bridge,
Then underneath a tunnel,
And then it went around and round
Like circling down a funnel!

It dropped upon a railroad track
Hooked onto the caboose
And followed to the roundhouse
Where it finally broke loose.

It turned around a couple times
And ran out toward the street
The elevator ran, of course
Because it had grown two feet!

It ran across an avenue,
Around a lake, and through a park
And then through another tunnel
Where it was very dark.

A mile later it emerged,
At Agnes’ house, by her front door!
The elevator walked inside,
And was on the second floor!!

So that’s how Agnes reached her attic,
Perhaps someday you’ll go there too,
Push the elevator button,
And you’ll find my story’s true!

Part 3
Agnes stood there in her attic
And smiled at all her stuff
That almost ends the story of
The Attic of Agnes McDuff.

But Agnes’ story can never end
Her smile turned to a frown,
Because you see poor Agnes
Forgot how to get back down!!
PwL  May 1, 2015
Some times I just need to laugh.  Happy May Day, HP!!
Equality For All

Why do you despise
Those who must fight to survive
In our lands
The lands of the free
Those who walk the cracked concrete streets
High on the cannabis ****
The dull glaze in their eyes
No will to survive
No hope, no future in sight
Hispanic and black and *** country white
Painted with the same ***** brush
Their only crime is the place they were born
Born on the wrong side of the track
But they to have rights
Be they black brown or white
They to have voices to be heard
You live in your big house
With untold wealth
The taxman to defraud
Fancy car and swimming pool
A room filled with fancy shoes
Yes shoes never worn more than once
Then left there on the shelf
You write a cheque for a million dollars
But never give a thought
For those on the other side of the track
Down trodden whites, Hispanics
And the un educated blacks

*yes, our lands, the lands of the free
All to often we call upon them to serve and die for us but still all to often treat them as second class citizens
Oh God, take thy nagging woman
Bring her back a blond
Slightly dumb, would not be frowned upon

Oh God, could you give her rubber gloves
Make her iron in the ****
If you could

Oh God, one without a headache would be handy
They tell me nymphs are always randy

Oh God, can I get one that’s tight
Not too bright
Brings in beer
Doesn’t shout in your ear

Oh God, can I change her every week
Would that be a cheek
A month would be fine
If I take a shine

Oh God, one more ask
The girls on Hello poetry might take me to task
Can you make them think this is a beautiful sonnet
Aimed at them all, keep it under your bonnet.
A Riot At My Door*

Have you ever really wondered
The things that you would do
If the riots reached where you lived
All that you would loose

Would you stay and fight for your house
Say this ground is mine
Defend the things that you have
Or leave them all behind

Would you let them take all you've gained
That you've worked for all your life
Say that nothing that you own
Is worth somebody's life

Would you try to truly understand
Say you see their side
Pretend you care what they feel
Then hide and close your eyes

For me I know what I will choose
I can say without a doubt
If you threaten that which I hold dear
My guns they will come out

I can tell you how I know I'll be
If the riots reach my door
I'll protect the lives that I love most
And send you to the lord

Poem By: *
Carl Joseph Roberts
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