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fly me from atlanta to

hurry up

don't make me
you ain't
we'll be watching you regardless of your hope
The noodles getting ready
I’m getting ready
Everything is falling into place
I think this is a good space

Whip it left, whip it right  
I want this Mac and cheese to last all night

So creamy it’s too ready
Steaming up the kitchen
How is it ******* up the dishes
He ready to eat
He ready to beat
He about to eat off this plate
He wanna bring one more date

But it’s to late the Mac and cheese is done
Creamy creamy
We both had fun
Baking this dish
We don’t do fish
Would you like to try my famous Mac and cheese dish?!
I feel so alone
My body feel like stone
I’m in my zone
I haven’t grown
I’m still right here where I was yesterday
So the only thing I can do is pray

No one to hold
Now I feel so cold
No one to kiss
And I’m ****
No one to touch my face
I’m all alone I my plate
No one to ***
Not even a text
No one to cry too
My brain is fried too
No one to date
**** I miss my mate
No one to take control
I feel like a lost soul

I feel so alone
Out here in this world that’s so cold
I’m not old
But my body feel wrong
I’m just out here...........all alone!
Mark Toney Oct 29
Beautiful downtown Atlanta
Sunny, blue, cloudless sky
Tall, wide, massive buildings
Window glass glistening in the sun
Beautiful, well-dressed people
Gainfully employed people
Taking care of business people
Running essential errands
Contributing to the community
Pursuing positive, purposeful lives.

I take in the sights, sounds, smells
Sounds of people walking, talking
Engines revving and car horns
Smells of restaurants and fast food vendors
Engine exhaust and overheated brakes
The feel of the sidewalk
Under my expensive dress shoes
The heat of the sun on my face and neck
The exciting hustle and bustle
Of a thriving metropolis.

A faint “Please, sir. . .” reaches my ears
And a homeless man appears
*****, disheveled, hirsute
“Please, sir. Could you. . .”
His weak speech trails off
As I divert my eyes, quicken my pace
Ignoring his petty pleas
As he disappears in my wake
Bothersome soul, good riddance
Why doesn’t the city do something?

Days later the encounter haunts me
I was so proud of the way I handled myself
How easy it was to dismiss a soul in need
Months later the encounter haunts me
Instead of the clever human
I had become cruel, inhuman
Unfeeling, unkind, uncaring
Years later the encounter still haunts me
Never will it ever happen again
Never. . . ever.
5/8/2018 - Poetry form: Free Verse - Copyright © Mark Toney | Year Posted 2018
It's okay to not be ready. To want something but just not know if it's a good fit. Doing everything the right way also doesn't mean that it will all turn out perfect. Making such a permanent move can change your entire life. Is it worth it and will the change be painful? It's easy to stay in the same situation. The comfort of knowing what will happen everyday will keep a mind at ease. Yet, if change comes what will the day look like? The transition should be easy and without questions.  To live in fear of what could be equals emptiness. It could also leave one stagnant. The heart wants change but I'm just not sure.
Not sure, what happens next, is it worth it, is waiting okay? What if perfection never comes?
143 May 5
I never thought I’d feel so safe on a Marta train at 12am
But I guess when im worried about someone else
I’m too preoccupied to worry about myself
And I think I’m okay with that
abc Jan 10
it feels like i am floating in space.
never really sure what day it is,
what time it is,
or how long i’ve been in this one place.
my determination and prevalence
mold the time into one recognizable moment.
and while i continue to run,
i run aimlessly towards a goal
i no longer see.
all i know is that it’s what i want to be.

Joe Thompson Sep 2017
The task was quite simple - speak into the mic,
Or post it to Twitter if that's what you like,
But pause for a moment your intense game of Yahtzee
And tell the whole nation that no sick neo-****,
White supremacists, kkker or alt-right fanatic –
(With or without robes that they found in the attic)
Is allowed to spread terror or drive cars through a crowd.
Vile speech, vile actions just won't be allowed.
As people sat waiting throughout our great nation-
Instead of a strong and robust condemnation
There came but a tweet both insipid and sad
Implying that both sides were equally bad,
And when no one came forth to defend his position
Not Repubs or Dems, hardly one politician
Trump finally said okay what I meant
Was white supremacists are evil one hundred percent.
But the bigots were grinning as Trump's sound bite got tossed -
Cause he had made it quite clear that his fingers were crossed.
As I said I would prefer not to be political, but we can not afford to be silent
Joe Thompson Sep 2017
Are they good people?
Friendly folk?
Good neighbors perhaps,
Willing to lend a helping hand-
Loving family members?

When they are not preaching hatred, I mean,
Waving symbols of terror and oppression;
Scapegoating people who fled oppression
Torture, death or economic hardships
Such as we have never endured..
Or denying the rights of fellow citizens
(who's ancestors were stolen, enslaved, tortured, terrorized and
Stripped of as much dignity and humanity as was possible even years after the promises of freedom and equality.)

And when the parades and riots are over,
Are they good people, nice folk, once more?
I think I have to be political sometimes. It's Trumps fault.
I imagined our last goodbye
would be something for the screens-
you would be about to board a train
(you were always the one to say goodbye)
I would make my way through the bustling crowd
and find you through the smoke
as you'd turn around,
the wind from a moving train would brush my hair ever so slightly
that at that exact moment,
you'd fancy me the prettiest girl to cross paths with
as a tear would escape from the corner of my eye,
i'd whisper from across the station;
"please don't leave me"

you are moving to Seattle-
out west to a city that never shows sun
it was meant for you.
you want to be a Bio major,
and you want to spend the rest of your days in the mountains.
Seattle is far away from the sub(urban) town you leave behind
and you never gave me the chance to see you through.
I will never forgive myself for the things I said,
but mistaking every stranger with long brown hair
and caramel-apple eyes
for you,
is punishment enough.

you are moving to Seattle,
and although I feel a bittersweet sensation
of being happy that you finally are getting your wish
(to, quote, "be away from you and this stupid ******* sleepy suburbia that offers me nothing but painful memories)
I can't help but torture myself
as I visualize you pursuing your dreams,
meeting beautiful, pale strangers that become your new friends
or finally gathering the courage to turn behind your chair and ask the
quiet redhead sitting behind you in your American Lit. class
if she'd like to grab coffee after lecture.
how can I sit back at home,
watching your through a blank, glass screen
seeing you move into the future
while i'm still stuck in the past,
heartbroken over losing the boy who left me in this do nothing town
as he moved on
to Seattle.
it's always been too hard for me to say goodbye
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