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Robert J Howard Mar 2017
Ringing like a bell
Rolling in Hell
Sure was swell
You never could tell.

All along Route 66
Getting his kicks
Strumming and picks
Inventing the first licks.

Absolutely very
Completely necessary
Juicy like a cherry
Sweet as a Berry.

Down on your luck
Things sure can ****
Don't give a flying.....
Just listen to the man, Chuck.
An Ode, Chuck Berry
MP Martinez Mar 2017
She wears the golden ray of sun on her dress
Her laugh so sweet any man can't resist
Flowers bloom on her every step
As she smile the world celebrates
Oh daughter of spring
You even melted Hades heart of solid ice
His monochrome kingdom burst into colorful hue
And because of that he won't let you go
Your disappearance payed a price
Now that you were gone
The world turned frozen and dry desert
Beloved daughter of Spring, Hailed queen of Underwold
Dedicated to one of my favorite greek goddess, Persephone. Worth a try
As Helen
mosey through
a day
that gabbles
in May
there along
the stream
she meander
to assure
that interplay
only eat
cake with
fudge if
nectar aside
mustn't contort
telltale with
him astride.
The urban legend going round the mummy club
A woman
On a tube
Breastfeeding her baby, 5 months old, under her t shirt.
Not **** out
No feminist flags waving
No brazen cocky smile.
Just a hungry baby and a mother made by nature
And some milk

"Put em away Love", slurs an ugly man halfway down the carriage.
The other passengers are divided.
Some sink deeper into their headphones, under their broadsheets.
The others are ready for revolution, sit up straighter and plan an attack phrase or a protective move.

But this is what she's been waiting for since she so triumphantly became a successful, proud breastfeeder.

With a wet plucking noise she pulls her baby from the ****** where he was so contentedly feeding, where his warm little head was halfway to milky coma dreamland.
And she holds him aloft, her grip is confident and full. No one is afraid she will drop him, but he does not want to be there.
And in the stark light of the carriage, arms and legs chilly and free in the air he begins to flail them about. His voice throws out mews to every window of the carriage, turning into scratchy shouts as his protest gets stronger.
Until the baby, in a blue furry jumper, little bear ears for cute effect, is screaming.
Red faced, and with tonsils and tongue vibrating in the storm of his voice.
Arms and legs swimming frantically, looking for the bank of the river where warm mummy sits.
And over the storm, mummy looks over at the swaying, squinting man and shouts,
"WOULD YOU PREFER THIS?"
In one movement she cradles the yelling blue cub, shushing and quietly speaking to him as only a mother can, offering her ****** to his mouth until his round fuzzy head is bobbing and his mouth quietly busy resuming his meal.
"Or this? " She looks over at him.

The man mutters to himself and looks away. At the next stop he gets off the train, tripping down the step onto the platform.

The mother releases the challenge in one large breath.

She looks up at the two young men sat in front of her.
They are smiling, staring in awe. Choking and speechless one of them starts to applaud her.
Clapping her and shaking his head, his mate joins in.
Just an urban legend...
Dawn Treader Jan 2017
Where she stops
Someone dies
Grandma keep a watchful eye

For on your deathbed as you lay
The Dullahan will come to play

Gifted with supernatural sight
You, she sees, in the dark of night
A whip of a human spine she does wield
From her, your soul I cannot shield

Head in hand, grey with decay
I pray to the gods—come what may
On her pitch-black steed she rides
Dressed in a gown stitched of human hides

Her decapitated head wears a Glasgow grin
Prepare for death when the Dullahan comes riding in

Member of the Unseelie Court
She’s the collector of souls; bodies amort
Although the protective curtain’s drawn
Grandma, you’ll be dead before the dawn
Waiting for death to take her, please come soon
Running out of
Oxygen, burning out
When contenders feel like
Dropping dead,
In an unexampled manner
Summoning a vestige
Of energy
Bringing into play
A new strategy,
Miruts Yifter Ethiopia's
Olympic legend
Used to surge ahead
Demonstrating a race
Is a sport of foot,lung
And head.
That is why
A commentator
Christened him
“Mirutse Yifter
The gear changer!”
“I dare say
Catching up with him
In a dead heat
There is no way
Once, he broke away!”

Two golds in 5 thousand
And 10 thousand meter race
In Moscow Olympic
With a gear-changing tactic
What a trick, what a trick!
What a story to children
And grandchildren to tell
Recalling minutest
Detail well!”

In our childhood,
With people
In the neighborhood
Our eyes
To TV screens glued
We used to relish
Miruts' sprinted finish
Forcing rivals
Winning dreams
To relinquish!

After the medal
Putting on ceremony,
Heading to
Our football pitch
We used to run round,
Round,round and round
Till exhausted ourselves
We found!

It is adopting
Mirutse's footprint
Haile,Derartu,Kenenisa,
Tirunesh,Selershi and
Meseret sprint!
This formula grand
Gradually has found
Its way to Kenya
And England
May be tomorrow
To Sire lanka or America!
Sad,Mirutse Yifte has passed away!
Brent Kincaid Dec 2016
I used to believe in Santa Claus
So jolly and red and so fat.
I was a big fan of Christmas
No holiday was as great as that.
Not Easter with those funny eggs
Not even Halloween with candy.
No, that thing about tons of presents
To me, that was fine and dandy.

And we even got two weeks off
Nobody had to go to school.
Then coming back with new clothes
That made me look so cool.
Nothing compared to Santa Claus
The flying reindeer, ** ** guy.
I used to try to stay awake
So I could see him flying by.

It was such a great reality
To know that dude was up there
In the frozen north pole air
Making stuff for kids everywhere.
That was the world I reveled in,
Where everyone celebrated.
I knew I was not the only one
Who sat by the tree and waited.

I don’t remember being confused
By the Santas in department stores.
Santa had lots of helpers, I knew,
And this guy was just one more.
I did have a problem with chimneys
And a bag that he could lift
That carried things for all us kids;
Every size and type of gift.

But kids have a way of helping folks
To maintain a pretty fantasy.
We just ignored things that didn’t fit.
We went about it very easily.
But one day, and I remember when
I got let in on the confidence game
And Santa Claus was quickly gone,
Never to come to our house again.

The sad thing is nothing can ever
Replace the joy I once felt.
Santa was not supposed to be
Like Frosty and too quickly melt.
So, I have to make do with having
The grownup toys I buy myself.
Oh, how I could use a flying sled
And the help of a brace of elf.
Aaron LaLux Dec 2016
The King’s Conundrum

Every castle crumbles,
every rise has it’s fall,
every king eventually dies,
no matter how great the life is he lives,

and all the jewels that rest in his crown,
can’t be taken with him when he’s gone,
because everything in this material world that matters now,
will be worthless when Kingdom Comes,

he’s on his throne,
he’s the king of the hill,
but he feels all alone,
because the pyramid gets smaller the higher you go,

while everyone watches the throne,
some with respite and some with respect,
as the ultimate answers stay evasive,
but the ultimate question continues to beg…

As a king what will you leave here once you’ve gone?

What will be your legacy?

How will you be remembered?

What will be your gift to this world?

After the fall when it all falls down,
what will you leave for society other than an empty body?

After all,
you owe everything you have in this existence to this world,

and you have a lot,
you’ve accumulated more than one man could ever spend in a lifetime,
and a lifetime is exactly how much time you’ve got,
and time is running out faster every day tick tock tick tock,

it doesn’t matter how much treasure you’ve got,
you can’t take any of it with you,
and herein lies the fundamental question,
what will you do with all of your immeasurable treasures when you’re gone?

And this my dear friend,
is the king’s conundrum.

Because the more you have,
the more you lose,
the more you make,
the greater the divide with what you can take.

Because you can take nothing,
except for maybe a few memories,
so what will you choose to do with what you leave behind,
what do you want the people to think when they remember he?

He as in you,

honestly,
what are you going to do,
now that you see,
that the more you make the more you’ll lose…

Choose,
wisely great king,
for God,
and the people are both watching,

so what will you leave,
for future generations to view and use,
and that my dear friend is the ultimate question,
but it’s a question that ultimately can only be answered by you,

so seriously,
what will you do?

because every castle crumbles,
every rise has it’s fall,
every king eventually dies,
no matter how great the life is he lives,

and all the jewels that rest in his crown,
can’t be taken with him when he’s gone,
because everything in this material world that matters now,
will be worthless when Kingdom Comes,

he’s on his throne,
he’s the king of the hill,
but he feels all alone,
because the pyramid gets smaller the higher you go,

while everyone watches the throne,
some with respite and some with respect,
as the ultimate answers stay evasive,
but the ultimate question continues to beg…

As a king what will you leave here once you’ve gone?..

∆ Aaron LA Lux ∆

The Holy Trilogy Vol. 1; available worldwide
Arcassin B Nov 2016
By Arcassin Burnham (Inspired By Johnny Cash)


I Hurt Myself Today,
Cause Everything's Surreal,

I Use to,
Love the pain,
Ignored the devil's deals,

I get deeper , in the hole,
Seeing what tomorrow brings,
God knows all the rest of your days,
And he remembers everything,


What Have I Become,
My Darkened End,
Everyone I Know , Knows their way,
In the End,
And You Could Have It All,
My self love of worth,
I always let you down,
I Will Make You Hurt,


The Man With His Two Horns,
Has Things He Wants To Share,
Maintain These Old Thoughts,
Don't You Let Him Hear,

An Ode To Father Time,
There's Nothing, Else To Fear,
Fight Battles Somewhere Else,
But I Am Still Right Here,



What Have I Become,
My Darkened End,
Everyone I Know , Knows their way,
In the End,
And You Could Have It All,
My self love of worth,
I always let you down,
I Will Make You Hurt,
If I Could Start Again,
Then Everyone Would Stay,
Times I Saved Myself,
I Won't Die ..Today.


R.I.P C A S H
©ABPoetry2016

http://arcassin.blogspot.com/2016/11/johnny-cash-hurt-ab-poetry-remix.html
Isha Natsu Nov 2016
If I pull hard enough,
Will it drag your body down?
To this earth,
To this very moment in time,
To be with me,
They say it’s fate. What brought us together
Is the stuff of myths and legends.
Do I have to be afraid of a cloaked figure
Cutting it down?
Taking drastic measures, taking his biggest pair of scissors
Making an incision we won’t even feel. The loss
Of missing out on what could be a wonderful union
Borne out of a tiny red string tied
To our pinky fingers.
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