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CJ Flynn Oct 2020
Its been 4 years since I have been on this site many new changes both here and in life.

I own my own home a rental duplex at that. I got a new job with good pay and a union. I have been to the ER a few times for health problems but I wont sing the blues I'm still here.

Covid-19 breaks the US and world great depression 2021 is just around the corner.

I'm at the tail end of my 20's 30 is coming up fast so many things I have done. Yet so many more that may never happen will see about that.

HERE is for more tomorrow than yesterdays more bright sky's than rainy days  more pace and harmony for all humanity!!!!
A quick poem about my feelings on 2020 and where I am in life!
Scarlet McCall Mar 2020
I type my poems in Microsoft Word,
Which capitalizes when I don’t want it to.
Microsoft capitalizes on its digital monopoly.
Monopoly is a board game about capitalism
that I played as a child with tokens and play money.
But I spend real money on Microsoft Word.
I don’t want capitalism to rule my world.
My world needs rules. Such as, the writer decides when to capitalize.
Capitalizing Word makes it a brand name.
A brand name is copyrighted, as are my poems.
But do  I own the copyright to my poems in Microsoft Word?
Word has it that if Monsanto seeds blow onto your farm,
the plants they become belong  to Monsanto.
Word.
my attempt at a poem style called a "duplex."
Nicky Vaught May 2015
All the planets are falling
Much to my chagrin
From their fishing line and ticky-tacky
Out of the stucco cosmos.

The days are carbon copies
Of last month’s plans:
Work and meet with people who matter
Not enough that I don’t need reminding.

The second bookshelf isn’t quite full
But the knick-knacks look nice
Even the fake succulent
Helps to tie it all together.

A brown lizard on the wall
Still only metal
Extends his tail for a towel,
But all of mine are folded on the floor
Next to the briefcase-looking record player
I hardly use but use enough.

And the TV is in front of my bed
Where I hardly sleep but sleep too much
And now the incense has died
But it will smell nice all day.

When I leave the microcosm will crash
Except for the sticky ticky-tacky stalactite
My burnt out light bulb will be replaced
A star for a new solar system
If any god or goddess thinks to make one
But for now
The planets are falling.
Appeared on WKNC's poetry corner.

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