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Philomena May 30
"Before the truth will set you free, it'll **** you off
Before you find a place to be, you're gonna lose the plot
Too late to tell you now, one ear and right out the other one
'Cause all you ever do is chant the same old mantra"
My thoughts can bring
you close to me my love dreams I see you
dreams and all my memories of you and how we used my
Looking back upon my
life with you don't think
I could have
anymore than I did for I
dedicated all my life to
you and still I
No more crying now
for me no amount of
tears shed could ever
bring Helen
For we have both had
our time but sadly all
we had that was all
was meant to
Where do I go from here
what will I do now
I'll survive that's what I
will do keep Helen's memories alive
draw on
Inspiration given as
gift from my departing
wife I know where I'll go
from here I know
I'll do now I'll keep writing the poem dedicated to my wife for she was the love
of my life never to be
another for
Where do I go from here what will I do now what will tomorrow bring
Nat Lipstadt Apr 2014
Thus spake and quested
another, younger poet to me,
a far better one than I,
but obligations thus provided,
are serious business,
to those who understand
poetic responsibilities, and
under his own Rules of Order,
an answer,
though long in coming, AR,
must be provided.*

Well well well
all is not well,
the faucets offers choices....
chrome hot
chrome cold

there is no such thing as
lukewarm truth in
clear waters that
run run,
yet never
run stilled,
birthed at turned-on conception,
to drain death removal,
another daily poetic miracle,
unappreciated by most,
overly consumed by their
own passage on this Earth

peddler wayfarer,
passing through with truth
poem pots and rattling pans
(nowadays, mostly panned),
a historic factoid,
and not what Amazon delivers...
truth is a genetically modified
bitcoin currency, misunderstood,
prone to sometimes useful,
but never ever, to stick or stain,
for I got excuses and who gives a ****,
yesterday is forgotten instantly

The coldest truths,
the confirmation of same
by mirrored image text sent,
(immediacy a necessity,
for though poor, it is 'real')
the twitter that methodically
A-lists your major crimes
B-lists your petty,
hope-you-didn't miss my
exposé of latest misdemeanors

the hot truths,
only whispered,
merely mint hinted
in a hot cuppa,
the heat itself
a cover up,
for what you do not
wish me to plainly speak
or plainly sell,
is accursed truths,
won't sell, even if free

Can't write about moon and June,
alabaster is a fine word,
but white suits me fine,
don't know the diff
tween dragon flys and lullabies

The way I write is
just the way I think, believe,
from my eyes to paper
there is no misdirection,
just silent labor conception

Poor poor real truth
is out of favor these days,
because there is nothing
no one won't cease or hesitate
to expose himself,
flaunt the anguish,
copy other's jive,
but that is real,
but it is not truth

Had a bad day,
You need to know about it
Right away!

Though I meander and excuse,
there is one state of truth,
I need yet to annotate

Too oft when tapped turned on,
it is rusty water and rusted truths
expelled and this, my stuff, my days,
not in vogue, or a top seller

I love the color rust,
overused in my poems,
but compulsion is not a
conditional, but a must

This then is the form
they spill in these,
my final days here

You might think that rust implies
lack of use,
a non-caring
for his voice,
his well practiced instrument

Au contrarie, amigo!

My rust is from overuse,
my eyes don't see
what the popular want nor
could I provide it
even if
it was demanded,
which it is not....

Rusted but unvarnished,
undisguised by fancy words
or silent cries, what you read
is what you get
until I find
a more "authentic" voice,
one that satisfies the world
not just me...he sneers....

Feel for me in the summer breeze,
from whence my best stuff
has always been plucked
sent on its way, to you,
in self-same wind,
to kiss your cheeks,
slap you alert

I used to write
on both feet
then Hillel was asked for
the whole truth
while standing
on just one leg

His reply:
"Love they neighbor as you love thyself"*

So I switched
and now compose,
in quiet ignorance,
a wrong footed poet,
left only with his what's left,
and to put his left foot truths
first, forward and foremost,
is what he got, and
what I got, you'll get....

But a cautionary note,
drinking riposte rustys,
bad for the body,
but kindly
for your mental
if your have the
only other element
most needed,
in your pocket posses,

Rambling, unedited, and yet fresh so off to the presses..and at 4:21am,
I frankly, Scarlet, don't give a **** anymore...
Mazen Edlibi Mar 11
Words failed to present my story!
Stories couldn't define Who A I!
Expressions misled eyes!
Then Silence Appears to....
Bring light to words
Bring  meaning to chaos
Give  power to voice
Where silence becomes your Story!
XslyfoxX Mar 9
A light flickers for five seconds.
A light goes dark.
A light shines for five seconds.
A light goes dark.
All is light, all is dark.
All is scene, all is lost.

In all the light, all I see is you.
In deepest dark, all I seek is you.
When the light blinds my eyes,
You’re what brings me sight.
When darkness steals my eyes,
You’re presence holds me tight.
Through sharpest light, and darkest night.
With love - slyfox
Lae Mar 3
From the smiles i faked,

to the tears i've wept,

the path i took,

left me lost in just a hook.

If i could just rewrite the past,

i would still bring back us,

back to those times,

where things weren't a mess.
Do not
let your
bring you down.
use them as an
to rise higher than before.
Jon Thenes Nov 2018
Guarantee the familiar
Body the Juvenile recipe
spark authority
give clutch
a drunk torrent
of confusion
**** each new Moon
a loud Need
perhaps heart
is chesting
a pale secretion ?
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