Oh merry townsfolk of mirth and glee!
You have crossed the bridge beyond the sea


To a land where no one knows your name
Contesting to bring your town some fame


Giving evaluations & tickling some nerves
Finally waiting 'til the best judgement serves


Win or lose? Reflect your journey and you will see
No matter the situation, a winner thou shall be

Why don’t we have show and tell for scars?
They are more important than materials we show
They show the memories we can’t explain
Scars last forever, but memories will eventually fade
This world only looks at materials
Some things you can’t hold but love more than the things you can
Scars show how strong we are
Scars show the hardships you lived through
Scars show all the mistakes we did
Scars show that you got back up again
Scars are beautiful so embrace them as you do to your items

wrote a poem about my dad
posted a few days ago
entered into a contest
but not for any dough

since it was for Fathers' Day
it makes me extra proud
it won a place and will be read
to an online listening crowd

on a show tonight 10 pm
Late Night Poets is its name
it's just a little ego boost
won't bring me any fame

but I do hope my Daddy's listening
it's all about him, you know
even though he's not in this life
had to leave it long ago

hope he enjoys being
remembered in a special way
Hey, daddy, this is for you
Happy Fathers' Day!

Excitedly I drew my pen
to have a bit of fun
to zero in on the ABC's
to take them for a run
knowing that to use them up
is really an endeavor
and that the venerable judge
is known to be quite clever.

We clamor for the answers
On why Poetry always takes a back-step to everything else
We've lost all the components of the belt
It's still beautiful and heartfelt
But it fails to implement welts
Inside the barriers
That refuse to be our carriers
For any more to be in public print
You better have the green eqivalent
To enter this contest
That you might not even win
No wonder why we're so vulnerable to throwing our work into the trash bin
Why should I lose money I worked so hard for
To be circulated in the financial parkour?
I'm not trashing them
No disrespect
But after a hefty inspect
I think we can do better
I'm so used to rejection letters
I'm just not opulent or sophisticated enough
I don't have a yacht like Billy Collins to splurge about
I write purely what gives me an urge about
Don't care for the money and the clout
It won't make me pout
I can tell you what Poetry is about
No need for the textbook explanation
That's not your destination
It's about who you are
How you feel
How these thoughts reel
What happened in your tri-optics
And how we can solve it
The world has churned out a campaign to ignore and omit it
And they're almost successful
Almost is as useful as a horseshoe against hand grenades
Let me drink my Lemonade
Writing line after line
I know I'm not Elitist enough
The edges of these words are kind of rough
Or as the Poetry Foundation says vague
Then explain why these poems almost always become trending?
I guess I'll buy my seventy-nine cent pen and express myself
Sit down and be laughed at the ones with their prestigious titles
Looked at as another wannabe
Even though I have the spirit like Ken Wantanabe
I guess what will be, will be
I'm just another bee in the Harvest
Trying to be Independent
Another lost soul in the forest
I take pride in my work but I'm considered the poorest
By the highest of the contempoaries
With their personal Secretaries
Thank you for your submission
But it puts you into the Obiutary
That they'll forget about

I'll make my own way
Starting today
Or was it many years ago?
It's hard to truly decipher.

Rotting flesh bathes under the sun's unrelenting waves

Our prey has felt the reapers touch
repossessing its soul
so we may harvest the remains

The scents invade our nostrils
luring us into a state of blissful hunger

We dive
We feast
We leave none to waste

C O N T E S T   POEM  FOR  SUNPRINCESS

He picks up the microphone -
The switch is already on
He pushes the button anyway
And that turns it back off
He starts into his maiden speech.
Nobody hears a single word
But he keeps right on talking.
I’m in the sound booth at the back
Visible in the window
The audience turns and looks at me.
There’s nothing I can do.
The mic has been turned off.
So I am forced fake a smile
And take the blame
For his stupidity.
           ljm