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He taught them well
~for all the teachers here~

He cared enough,
So much so,  
Reasoned with them.
Never diminishing their simplest prose,
Even if it rhymed with rose....

He loved them in his way,
Once his student,
This year, then forever.

Their woes he read,
In every submission,
No threat treated idly,
He knew but one grade,

One rule strictly observed,
No touching,
In this sad age, a crime without
Any absolution.

Then came a day.
School arrived, pre-bell by ten minuets,
His customary arrival time.

This day different.

The long corridor to the classroom entree,
Lined like Noah's ark, two by two,
On each side,
His students past and present aligned,
They would not let him pass,
Till he hugged each and everyone.

Thus, they taught him well the meaning of

Just rewards

For they were his,
Yes, they were his,
Not for the taking,
But for the giving.

His subject,
Creative writing,
of course!
Wrote this just now, 517am,  just fell out of me from absolutely no-idea-where-from. A dream for my next life, perhaps?
If you have a gun
You have no control
 Feb 2018 StaticNSage
Itchy scritchy
Creepy crawly
Something in my skin.
I pick and scratch to free
Fictitious bugs that squirm within.

Whump-a thump-a
Thudd, thudd
Pounding in my ears,
Punctuating every sound
with thrums like stabbing spears.

Wiggle wobble
Swoopy swirly
Motion fills my eyes.
Saturated, inundated,
Stillness its disguise.

Shaky shaky
Static in my limbs,
***** them tight together
Til the chaos finally dims.

In the quiet, darkest, smallest space
I sit and reminisce
Of back when just existing
didn't make me feel like this.
the world is an overwhelming place
 Feb 2018 StaticNSage
 Feb 2018 StaticNSage
I am so sick of being used
Torn down and abused
betrayed and bruised
but they say at least I have a use
i might as reduce it to seeing
a keyboard,
  but then again i have
to contend with
the echo chambers of
the outskirts of north london,
greater: to mind the critique...
i don't mind the criticism
if i'm not, walking
these wet-light mirror
i've had to employ about 20 hands
to pair up with the things
i touched...
                   to be exact?
pine branches felt the best:
***** cushions.
              they left a perfume of:
to add to a "repertoire"
concrete was well moulded,
a tree soon became
an out-dated
that apparently bred
                communication lines
via the: talker (phone).
            i touched up more things
that allow me to ease up
into a *****...
               never mind...
if it's called marriage it's
better called petting...
        you'll sooner find one
able hussar in your vicinity...
       i've lived past the grey of:
"en masse"...
                  i am hanging
off a persuasion note...
                      the least
pulverising note to breathe on:
is the breath you take...
         disco polo prodigy...
hardly a Chopin: in
take awe at mature women
sort of gimmick...
                we wrote,
we drank,
                and the **** in between?
it turns out my father was
an economic migrant,
as was i,
    although he went to
a better pedagogy project
that i did,
   he? the army.
me? the university.
                 thank **** i'm lucky  
to see the current implosion!
it's like: fireworks; did i ask?
       not to mention
fashion and the "lumberjacks"...
titled: got bored of shaving,
                   hence the beard.
i sometimes wish we could
exact: men educated by the army...
women educated:
     university and the whatever.
i can cook, i can clean,
   but not as a rubric enterprise:
out of the blue
   really works miracles
on petting cats;
    if you want to be a crazy cat
        or pretend to keep an
Afghan "teenager" in
your yom kippur (
              attic) to sprout like
  a ******* white knight unicorn
       and a tax-*****!
                     hey, no ****: li-m-bo!
 Feb 2018 StaticNSage
Dark devil

We hide in your shadow
As the day light summons the night
the street lights caress your ora
As you begin your choreographed flight

We dance upon your footprints
Smudged glitter upon our skin
Twisting and jumping in great delight
Saving our minds from deep within

We’ve waited patiently with our angels
For your greatness to appear
We yearn for the balance of your darkness
Within us no thoughts of fear

Our angels fall back in time
for now you are our master
Our dark minds now return
We jump high
we jump far
we run faster.
Light and dark complicated complimented
You bathe at night; soak
in the indigo twilight.
Exhausted from the
overload of emotion,
the lunar light cleansed your soul.

Charming and cunning,
like the lion, you stalk your
prey. Find the weakness
and exploit it; start the fire,
and then claim your innocence.

You are the end and
beginning of the cycle.
Take the heat, and rise from the
ashes in your final form.

Water bearer, you
bring life to this alien
landscape. Barren and
undiscovered, this is your
chance to change the world. Long live
your work of innovation.

Tree branch rib cage and
ivy veins that nurture your
winter-bitten soul.
Precious sunlight has returned;
your garden will bloom again.

The war going on
inside your brain is growing
tiresome. Your strength
is that of the ram, but you
can't always be the hero.

Submersion. Scared and
eye-level with the Angler.
Take pleasure in the
aesthetic. Perhaps a change
of perspective was needed.

Sagittarius (Father Jupiter Would Be So Proud):
Goddess of the hunt,
your need for adventure and
fearless heart combines
and incarnates the wander-
lust warrior that you are.

Eyes like a doe; she
is wise, nurturing, and vast.
Motherly strength is
the coat worn over bared bones
and bruised knees. She's her own crutch.

Neither side of your
scale may touch the ground.
Chaos may welcome
you with open arms, but she
will grow cold and deranged, love.

Though you are stubborn,
your heart is made of feather,
you fierce, burly ox.
Romantic and devoted,
the darkness in you is gold.

Gemini (The Twin Flame):
How exciting and
infuriating it must
be to look in the
mirror to face your best friend
and your greatest enemy.
What's your sign? Can you relate to any of these?
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