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The sun sought thy dim bed and brought forth light,
The sciences were sucklings at thy breast;
When all the world was young in pregnant night
Thy slaves toiled at thy monumental best.
Thou ancient treasure-land, thou modern prize,
New peoples marvel at thy pyramids!
The years roll on, thy sphinx of riddle eyes
Watches the mad world with immobile lids.
The Hebrews humbled them at Pharaoh's name.
Cradle of Power! Yet all things were in vain!
Honor and Glory, Arrogance and Fame!
They went. The darkness swallowed thee again.
Thou art the harlot, now thy time is done,
Of all the mighty nations of the sun.
Your t.v. is the enemy, selling lies, ***, and material nonsense.
A box of greed, ***, and violence in the home of every man, woman, Silence! I'm trying to watch this!
One is never enough, not for us, more, more, more, we want more says the little girl selling cell phones.
So with our hard earned pay, we go bankrupt, buying all this worthless, mind numbing, junk.
Even in poverty, a child goes hungry as the mother updates her facebook with a link to her ***** bounty.
The rich man with the perfect life, wife, kids, dogs, and a picket fence, aborts born children, whatever it takes to get rich.
Seems success in this country of billionaire heiresses is simply *** tapes on the internet.
There was a time, we as a nation were to be proud, hold ourselves to higher standards.
In this evil day, I can only pray, have mercy on this country, and a debt it will never repay.
if you want honesty

i constantly rewind the first time
you hugged me
and how your hands lingered on the small of my back
found their way all the way around
my waist

your smirk still haunts my dreams
i know it was an understanding smirk
as dark as it was
i wanted to curl up and sleep in it
the biggest turn on

sometimes i still wish
you would have drunkenly stumbled
upon my front porch
called me down and gave me a sip
convinced me to be yours
while i tasted your whiskey tongue

i fell in love with your arms
sturdy and strong
i knew they could wield off dangers of any kind
when i miss you the most
i can feel them on me and
my heart
drops

please tempt me again
soft, pure, precious
i'm losing all of my words
'cause i've spent them all on you
secure, blissful, warm
your smile is electric
the most intoxicating sight
sacred, hidden, enthralling
i can sense you here but
i cannot reach you
i want to write about you
and how i wish i could unravel your dense mind
make your complicated countenance simple
to yell at you about how i passionately love
how easily your words flow to and through me
and echo when you're gone
how i feel as if you're the only one i have left
and how desperately i wish i could hide you
in my lungs and breath you
so that you couldn't move
and couldn't leave me
alone

i'm pretending i didn't hear you tell me
that you had to leave
 May 2013 Sean Antonio Tyson
KM
Slow and steady, death consumes.
A sweet sweet kiss, passion blooms.
My heart you hold, poison me not.
Gaze in my eyes, I'm already caught.
A friend and I were discussing love and this spun out of the conversation
Creative Writing
by Alyssa Boller

You sit in front of your laptop,
your imagination lacking
You reach for a cup of coffee,
and take a sip.

Maybe you can write about love?
Nope, you have none
About family?
What about it?

You look at the clock.
9:30 it reads
Oh well, you say
It's still early

You browse through facebook,
blog at tumblr.
You chat at y!m,
rant at twitter.

11:00
Nothing.
You stare at your laptop,
open your MS Word

11:30
Your eyes are closing
But you look at your laptop
Blank.

Maybe you can write about friendship?
Or the lack of it.
Maybe you can write about stress?
Yes. Perfect.

So you type. And type.
And you finish a ****** work.
You think of a title, and smile.
“Creative Writing”
In the mind of a poet deep secrets lie dormant, waiting to be revealed
deep in the crevices of the primordial subconscious lie answers to
unasked questions, wordless thoughts, unspoken desires
The poet pours forth a veritable fountain of verbose interludes
choosing each word carefully to project the perfect mood
as a painter paints in hues and shades, the poet paints in words
in verbs and nouns portraying visions of thoughts and feelings
creating a work of art ... a picture can paint a thousand words
But in the mind of a poet  a word can paint a thousand pictures
to choose just the right word to portray just the right emotion
to convey just the right thought - this is the art of the poet
And in the mind of a poet, every word is integral to the whole
every single word is seen as necessary to express the perfect thought
the perfect meaning, the perfect expression of mind and soul
In the mind of the poet, the creator is the creation creating the creator
the poet becomes as a god, creating from darkness and void
Writing into existence with sentences new creations, bringing new life
expressing new visions, new revelations...
In the beginning was the word
And the Word was in the Mind of a Poet.
My friend you've once again inspired me, LADB!  This energy, this poetic symmetry, this talent, this gift that you posses, possess me.
I look to your words as I know you do mine, rely on visions that come from our engines, and by that I mean our minds.
Our self destruction and God's good Grace brought us together, at a time of renewal, and a strange new place.
A friendship developed, between people of different worlds, yet akin minds will always think alike.
I remember a day, we took a train, set on the beach, took in the beauty and walked in the rain.
Even in dismay, the following day, after I let the devil have his way, you graced me with kinds words, and you left me with a manly embrace.
Some time has passed, without personal contact, yet we remain friends, with similar visions.
Until the day that we once again cross paths, in this life or the next, your poetic text will be the adhesive of a friendship I hope will always last.
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