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Jeff Gaines Mar 2018
Hello everyone,

  I'm so very sorry … I feel horrible doing this, but I have no choice. You see, I have published my first book on Amazon/Kindle! This piece (and many others) had to be taken down because they do not allow published material to be available online for free. (Go figure) I wanted to leave the shell of the posts because I felt compelled to leave all your helpful and loving comments. (Silly sentimental, I know), but I also didn't want to just have the pieces disappear without an explanation. I feel bad enough as it is!

  I owe ALL of you so, SO much for all of your reads, love, and support. It was YOU that gave me the gumption to FINALLY get off my **** and publish! Thank you all for the warm comments, camaraderie, and encouragement! I will still be here, reading, uploading and just being the Rascal that I am. How could I EVER leave you guys?

  The book is called “The Way I See It – FictionPhilosophySoul Food” and it will be FREE for the first few days on Kindle Select, so watch for it, if you are interested. I hope that you go and grab it. If you do, I would also hope that you find it worthy, you would leave me a good review. That will help me get in the public eye! Soon afterward (2-3 days or so), it will be available in paperback.

Find the book(s) here: www.amazon.com/author/jeff.gaines

Or find the book(s), and all about me, here: www.JeffGaines.world

  Soon after, I also hope to have my first novel (a supernatural thriller), called “Wanderer” available as well!

  Wish me luck!

                                Big, Biggest Love,

                                               Jeff Gaines
This was written a very long time ago at a moment in my life when I was feeling exasperated and frustrated about all my efforts seeming to end up fruitless. We all go there sooner or later, don't we?

I think I was in my early 30's and getting a lot of rejection emails on my first Novel. My writing was doing great online, my poetry winning awards ...

My favorite part of it is the multi-syllable words strung together. I was just beginning to stretch my wings with whimsy and word-smithing.

But, without a degree, the "Literati" in the publishing world will usually have little or nothing to do with you. To them, I guess ... without that paper, how could you POSSIBLY have something to write about?

This is just simply one of things we write as a form of "self-medication" as-it-were. It did make me feel better ... and as it always does ... things got better.

Such a Roller Coaster we are all riding, huh?!
Andra  May 2016
we aspire
Andra May 2016
How did you end up
flowing in my veins?
I breathe you
with every second that passes
and I cry with tears
that taste like you.

Pathetic,
right?

I should make myself
a tea
and calm down...
as if this could
heal me...

How can you heal
with an ordinary tea,
a chronic problem?

Doctor,
give me
ten boxes of aspirin.

we
have
to
overcome
the
cold
Climbing a ladder to a higher you
and even if just for a peek.
Arsène  Dec 2017
Life Coalesced
Arsène Dec 2017
Life Coalesced
Envision the rest
Depressed or distressed
Worried less, I invest
May regress or finesse
Life's congruent mess

Mold your self, immaculate
Clear hate and evoke fate
Inspire, create and congratulate

Persevere when near,
Whilst you conquer fear
Happiness untamed
Dreams unattained
Mature and grow wise
In front of your eyes
passion for diction
Ryan O'Leary  Apr 20
Aspire
Ryan O'Leary Apr 20
Higher, I say, for the new
Notre Dame steeple, never
mind the people.

In fact, why not dismantle
the Eiffel Tower and put it
smack centre of the cathedral.

Now that would be the ultimate
******* architectural symbiosis,
one celibate bird, with two stones!
We are proud individuals
who feed into bold lies
spoonfed like we're blind
through hands of our deceitful leaders
still they rise.

Technology is forever shoved in our face;
"hurry up n buy it!"
(before it reaches expiration date)
consuming gadgets at such a fast pace
may that be the devil
that determines our fait.

In the hands of the media we lay
side by side on a sinking ship they say
far, far and further away
we depart from real life
and sink into a screen of shame.

Our children can fake a smile
but their tears don't lie.
and though we let them remain on those sites
we sit, we sigh
and spin our glasses of wine
all the while wondering why we see them
with blubbering hearts and watery eyes.

Our elderly generation
worked all their life
hoping in their older years
that they could relax for a while.
Instead they have to sit there
with frail hands and ghostly smiles
overlooking us poison the planet
and see it turn cold and vile.

We drink until our heart is liquor
we love until our love turns bitter
our emptiness then begins to spread-
until on the inside we all go dead-
and it spreads quickly
and painfully
like the plague
and everyone is too far gone to save.

"Men are to be machines"
We say with a hand on their shoulder
as we push them out the door
off to a war
which will scar them so much so
that they won't want to live anymore.
And while not even a trace of a scar
sits on their skin,
the blood which seeps from their bleeding hearts
soaks and stains deep within.

Mass confusion;
we look to the sky
for the answers we need finding
within this cold society.
We disagree until we die
about matters of no relevance to you or I
but fury is the new joy
and may we fight until all is destroyed.

So many harsh whispers in the streets
so many expectations no one dares meet.
Some go insane
just to be the same
but just who is this madman
that we all aspire to be?
Does he have a name?
Has be ever been seen?

If now was your time to die
would you be happy
with the content of your life?
Or would you be regretful
that for the most part
you were entertaining society's lies.

If you're not happy with the way of human progression
then be the light in a sea of grey
and this horrible game of modern day
you will no longer play
and instead serve now to define
a new society.



Jazmine MacIntyre
12.05.2019
Inspired by 'Iron Sky' by Paolo Nutini.
Ashleigh Black  Sep 2014
Iron
Ashleigh Black Sep 2014
Why aspire to be stardust
when you can be the
iron that creates it;
the element that causes
explosions of the largest stars
and resilience that holds the
whole universe together?
Nat Lipstadt Apr 2017
A message heart delivered by a musing troubadour
left footprints upon a well weathered rivers’ rocky shoal

the lazy days of the summer’s simmering
ethereal breezes lazily waft astir

Unknown distance ‘tween yonder skies azure;
thoughts of nebulous distances fearlessly ignored to be sure,
connectedness sown and deference’s soar from high above,
yet beyond vast breadth afar the great divide

His brimful heart in hand fulfills passersby thirst

needing love here, hearts on sleeves sincere,
wellspring sensibilities handed out willingly here
voids filled by word of quill …
right now is the known needed time

Glasses half empty suffused to their half full brims;
do unto others you will reap just what ye sow,
a poet beyond the bounds of his own demure,
bearing immense understanding

The quintessential essence of family love
drips from heart like heavens rain,
testifies the heart's purpose for being

A poet’s voice speaks in soul’s timeless tongues
unknown breaths from another understanding realm
too deep for words;
yet the word sayer struggles to see his forest ‘s poetic beauty
for to see beyond the pendant beauty
within its magnificent grandeur
of his own gifted heart’s nurtured trees.

~

The Twist

This poem was not written by me.
It was written almost four years ago,
lying fallow in some passing cloud.

Writ for me by someone effervescently more talented than I,
and one of the poets whose quality of work, and command of our shared language is something to which all of us should aspire.

I post it now as yet another homage to the true author.

For in reading it, never was a poem was far more clearly,
an unwitting self-portrait.

It was written on August 21st, 2013
by Harlon Rivers


by Nat Lipstadt
one of us, his tongue Moses-stung, with a hot coal of language's divinity
~
this would-be poet,
weighty troubled by misdirected words
of a musing troubadour,
for if ever a reflecting pool ought be
a two-way mirror reconfigured,
this poem is deservedly reversed
and of him homaged

by time, well weathered the poem above,
it's simple elegance tips and tilts the scales,
double blinding the justices supremely,
binding them for honesty for the subject,
is the auteur, one who sees too well
and yet l!
cannot perceive himself in his own words,
when now needs the judgement of their verdict
and your worthy recognition

now I ken better distance 'tween artist and art,
I, a workingman's daily dallying in simplistic machine craft,
my works deservedly lost in the waterfalling
of the endless also rans

non-nebulous distances.between skies of
Oregon country blue
and
the worldy worn asphalt grayed words of a graying man aging,
then let clarity speak, in plainest harmony,
know my deference’s soars to the high above,
one of us at birth, god gifted,
not I,
one of us, his tongue, like Moses-stung
with a hot coal of language's divinity

blessings, the keenest of nature,
where they divide and how they intersect
his brimful heart in our eyes fulfills the passerby's thirst
for revelations, small shards of shared sensibilities

my voids filled by the words of his quill

"to see his forest ‘s poetic beauty
for to see beyond the pendant beauty
within its magnificent grandeur
of his own gifted heart’s nurtured trees"

This was written April 15, 2017
for Harlon Rivers
by Nat Lipstadt

behind the poems,  travels another world…
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