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My friend asks
me where I get
the fodder for
writing my poems.
I tell him, life.
He says that's too
He isn't satisfied.
I tell him that
sometimes, I sit at
my desk and open
the window above the
litterbox, and look
outside at the
orange daylilies and

He says he writes
from a small place above
his left ear.
It tickles at times, but
often it's painful.
I nod and make a
note to call my
doctor about the
headaches I've been having.

He reads his posey at
the coffee shops while
drinking espresso and
chatting with the other
young poets in sweaters.
I tell him that I used
to live under a bridge,
I read my poems to the
savage river and the
Mallard ducks, and the
drunk friends that
wandered in for a drink of
***** or a beer.
He says the little place above
his left ear is beginning to

I walk him to the door and
tell him goodbye.
He asks if I will come
to the coffee shop to
hear him read his poetry.
"Sure", I say, smiling blankly.
After closing the door,
I sit and smile at the view from
my window.
I can smell the freshly cut
grass, and hear the
grinding whine of the
A woman across  
the street is lying in
the sun.
She's wearing a turquoise
bikini and big sunglasses.
Just then, a slight hint
of coconut wafts into my room.
I get hard and pick up the pen.
Here's a link to my you tube channel where I read my poetry.
I've been working on this drawing
I guess it's more of a rough draft
But that's what this character should look like
I think
It's an early look, of course
You know, concept art
But look
This is a character I'm getting to know
And I think this is them
Maybe this could be them
What do you think?
You like it?
No, I know it's not finished
But what do you think?
Yeah, I know
I just thought it was cool
And I thought, you know
Maybe you'd like it
It's cool
Like I said
It's not finished
You'll love it when I'm really done
No, you'll love it for sure
Few are the times Love knocked at my door,
     but they've all escaped my memory;
No enchanting poems stirred in my core --
No grand tributes to Love's mystery

But when despair extinguishes hope's flame,
     what salient words drip from my pen;
It's then that my heart, wounded and lame,
     unveils its poetic acumen

Is this why misery commands free rein ---
     just to appease Fate's poetic lust?
The tyranny of anguish and pain
     gives hesitant verse that final ******

Try to visualize agony pent
     in the depths of a desolate heart;
Now sketch the face of that vile torment . . .
Soon the pain becomes a work of art

Too often deceitful hearts will lure
     trusting hearts, blinding them with false love;
Great is the anguish they must endure . . .
     but it's the poems that I'm thinking of!

Passion-filled verses mix and combine
     like the paints in a grand masterpiece
     when the shattered heart tries to confine
     rage and bitterness seeking release
And yet, Love that survives Fate's brutal shove ---
The fortress that refuses to fall ---
Those words that proclaim undying love
     become the grandest poems of all!
Even my coffee needs a pep talk,

For I feel no relief when the
caffeine kicks in.

I know the tools
Time heals;
Not all wounds
Are bad memories to ****.

Yet I go to war defeated
Escape in the world of dreams,
Only to wake up even more

Time heals, they say, but how
much time — when it seems

Switched off the router today,
Waited a few seconds
Maybe my energy will start

Not yet,
Dear friend.

Be patient,
The sun has not set.

My coffee just kicked in, and I can
still write a poem.
In the cosmic dance of swirling lights,
Where stars are born and darkness fights,
The universe whispers secrets old,
In silver threads and dust of gold.

Galaxies twirl in elegant grace,
Each a part of the endless space,
Planets orbit in silent tunes,
Around their suns, like drifting balloons.

Mysteries hide in the blackest night,
Beyond the reach of human sight,
Yet we gaze up with hopeful eyes,
Dreaming of truths beyond the skies.

Infinite worlds, both big and small,
The universe holds them, one and all,
A canvas vast for us to explore,
Its beauty, a siren call to implore.

So let us journey through the stars,
Past the confines of our earthly bars,
For in the universe, we find our place,
A tiny speck, in its grand embrace.
uv Apr 10
He got up one morning
All charged up for the day
A long to-do list
And passion on his mind lay

A belief in his talents
Strong in his ways
To capture the world
To provide value that pays

To reach the stars was his aim
Work hard he did, never lay
His time was too precious
Successful he was, some may say

He thought the world needed him
Things would not work night and day
There were very few
To take his place in a way

But the world has its course
Its plan, its surreal own ways
Things bound to happen
Will happen anyway

The stars will shift
The oceans will drift
The air will greet
The sun will beat

The things bound to happen
Will happen anyway.
He is needed , but it will happen anyway

Word and thought exist
in their unformed state
within the Aether..
which in itself,
is without beginning  
nor end..

And so it is within that union
into the Perpetual
that words and thought
are metabolized into existence..  i.e.
"Brought out into the light of day" ..
within the working  agreement
of body, mind, soul and spirit..
which in part, is of the finite..
    and in part of the eternal..

Which all,  in itself
places us in commune  with the Aether;
(and all of the spirits  within
that it contains)

And so the circle of inspiration is complete,
      but clearly..
      not only is it without beginning,

          but also..  without end.

I see the world
feel the chill
Which way to go
I see the words
on a rocking horse of time
I see the birds in the rain

Oh dear Dad
can you see me now
I am myself
like you  somehow
I'll ride the wave
where it takes me
I'll hold the pain
Release me

Oh dear Dad
Can you see me now
I am myself
like you  somehow
I'll wait up in the dark
for you to speak to me
I'm opened up

Release me
Release me
Release me

for my brother Jeremy
Ariana Mar 21
Ramadan came around
reminded me of you—
Of fasting.
Of dates,
of prayer.
And for the first time in 30 days,
I think I might call you.
Loving these old poems I dug up
Carlo C Gomez Mar 21
Absorption lines

Lagrange points

interstellar fingerprints

she played with time, variable starfield's constitution

the reply from space
as light through the canopy
heard in upward glissandos:

"Tonight I'm only made of moonlight..."

Vira Mar 6
From far away, you seem
Distant, quiet, and closed  
Discard anyone’s company but prefer to be in your own!
I came a little bit close, I saw you are -
warm, wise and witty,
Kind and one of your kind!
And a delight to meet!
Taught me a life lesson in humility in one evening!
It’s not very often I meet people who can inspire me so much in one meeting :)
I met a man who is an absolute delight yet so humble and shy.
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