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 Nov 2021 Seranaea Jones
Traveler
We are gifted
another try
every time
we end a life
!!!
We can awake to
a brand new existence
where magic is accessible
and higher love is persistent
$$
In the soothing whisper of death
fear has no foundation
we can leave the doors unlocked
and take a stress free vacation…
P.S.
Take my word
death is absolutely safe
so enjoy your life
fearing not your fate!
Traveler 🧳 Tim
time is the sun we move around
through shadows and reflections
expecting more
a prophet or a sacrifice
how do we hold the sound
of any place without a name
some avenues allow return
their beauty having lingered
i find myself convinced
though why remains unclear
that we've something more to learn
some word or some experience
something that would obviously matter
Hey
Hey everyone, I was just
thinking about the
fact that poetry has
a long oral tradition.
Wouldn't it be fun to
get a youtube channel and
perform your poetry?
You are all so
great, I just wonder how it
sounds with the writer
reading it.
We could support each other
and promote our writing at
the same time.
I think this is another way to speak up for the art of poetry
All of you are
such amazing poets.
And poetry has a long oral
history.

Why not start your
own youtube channel
and perform your
poetry?
Some say poetry is a
dead art.
I say it isn't.
Let's return to
our roots and scream
our poetry from the
roof tops.

So I challenge all
of you poets,
let's kick some ***
with our voices.
This is a challenge to do spoken word poetry on youtube or some other site, then put in a link with your poem. We can all support each other and encourage each other on the way.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wN63fddvsTI&

this is my link, if this only brings up one poem, just search Thomas W. Case and the others will pop upCome join the fun and support your fellow poets.
Saturn is in
line with
Venus tonight
but, nothing's easy
when you're down.
The clowns walk
around, dressed in
yellow; fast food smiles
and cheeseburger
souls, and nothings
easy when you're down.

The dancers with poles
and sadness, that Halloween,
fires burning, childhood
perfumed dreams,
kind of sadness fills the
navy blue night.
I can't find the North star,
and the jack-lanterns lie rotting
in the streets of Nebraska
and Kansas, and the candies
all gone, and the kids wait.
And I can't findĀ Ā 
the deep blue shirt I bought
at Goodwill, and Billy Burroughs
is filled with worms and earth,
and Bukowski looks at Satan
and says, "what do you
mean, we're out of whiskey?"

I've never been much for the stars,
and family and Thanksgiving are
painfully overrated,
and nothing's easy when
you're down.
check out my youtube channel  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wN63fddvsTI&
A lump she is
A useless chunk
Of human protoplasm
A mind that can’t untie the knots,
Now neatly wrapped in silver duct tape
On a shelf just out of reach of devastated fingers.
Claw marks mar the surface of the tape
Evidence of effort spent in vain
To free the intellect
Now unplugged
And useless
As a rock.
ljm
This is what a minor stroke can do.
There is a flower within each one of us
longing to blossom to the sound of our breath
Stars of beauty annihilate in a sky of shine
while we slumber in relaxed  mode beneath
the sphere of heaven's Zen

Fortitude and hope gather through the tunnel haze
where the center core of our well being
sits in the silence of our created space
We are but one being in an entire human race
grazing possibilities into the daring dreams

Oneness is made possible when we communion
with the atmospheric beings of Godly frequency  
Solitude becomes a desired quest
as the night shows up with all her sacred realms
of beauty and splendor

Let us bloom together
towards a tomorrow bereft of sorrow and loss.
How time
Eats away at our words
Like kernels of discontent
Tossed about
And taken by caustic birds
On the qui vive
Feeding off our book
Of broken pieces
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