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Abigail Hobbs Jan 2020
Calm and quiet
Rolling in like a storm
Bright and warm as preceding ember
This was how you begin
The road to wisdom
Is deep within
Happy New Year and new decade to all of you, I wish everyone good health emotionally, physically and mentally.
One thing I'm thinking: what's next?
01/05/2020
Jami Samson Jan 2020
Do I dive to the ocean floor
or seek the edge of the world?
And will this heart of gold
sink or float?
I tell myself
with my blood as my ink,
I have my soul to keep;
now I’m at the tip of the quill
but the slate’s wiped clean.
When there’s nothing left
but the other side,
is there nothing else to do
but go there?
Tryna get my mojo back

08.01.2020
Colm Jan 2020
No youthful regrets beset
None of that stuff shines to last
I do not, will not
Look back through closed windows without seats of cushioned green, no
A neck is facing forward for a personal fast
And I for the hunger next of dawn
Will taste all that the future holds
Nothing
Will turn
Me back
Natural and just have been my failing feelings of the past. But they do not and will not dictate my future life.
(:
A B Faniki Dec 2019
I will alway remember you, your
that girl next door with
the dimples and most beautiful

smile that I have ever
seen on any pretty mouth.
I remember vividly that faithful

day like yesterday when I declare
"I love you", you laugh with both
hands covering your mouth and a delightful

sound filled my ears and the air.
before you finished laughing beneath
the beautiful stars, that wonderful

night I knew from that moment and hour
that; for you I would move the earth
and stars to spell your name in full.
© 25/12/2019.  I rember  u . Is a tercet written for a childhood  friend and love  of mine
i’m the man who’s gonna wake up next to you

slipping away, a non-starter, her leg crosses over mine,
a right sided shakedown shackle, adhesion flesh as
tough as old yellowed scotch tape sticking stuck

no escaping, a known 6:00am risk when you sleep with
a pre-advertised holy roller, twist and turner woman,
making you into an unofficial woe-man (too)

left hand grabs the lamenting instrument, the beat up iPad,
to record your enslavement, a distraction from the bladder’s
faint morn winking at you with a Cheshire grin, muffling a
chuckle, at a predicament wonderful familiar, but unresolvable

this situation, a category of life’s small measure of annoyances,
invokes the wordy title, and a write-down list of pluses and minuses,
which I’ll spare which o’witch be the longer list

poems are where you find them, under your nose,
looking out a city bus window, but sometimes like flypaper,
they just come unasked and stick to you, the separating of the skin,
like a too tight bandaid, ain’t worth the pain and freedom gained

later, share this missive and her suggestion, she will prepare an
NDA (a non-disclosure agreement)  or adopt other strategies like
pushing me out of the bed without warning when i am typing ,
to witch and to wit, reply,
ah!
another poem commissioned, and

perhaps, name change too, needed,
making love in the morning


12/14/19
Orion Lesneski Dec 2019
Starving,
Haven’t ate anything for days,
Something is keeping me from eating,
My hunger for you.
Ken Pepiton Nov 2019
as well now as later, we act as if this were the plan, this is the
re-al-ity in always, as an idea
we share
a con cept, a place to take hold
of, or on
existance as a whole. Being, per se. Post any question,
whether or not, we know
this is and we is in it. Artful Intelligence of the most
rudimentary beatitudeful thing,
says loud

not being is not anything near possible, ever more.
Breathe.
We be in, if not of

The big bubble of being,

no one, none, who knows a bit,

just a bit
about the rules, some call'em lies if we call'em laws
of living long,
so rules like procedural
rules regulate, and regular stuff is what
I do.
Regular stuff, no effort to take more or less of life,
no laws of attraction 'n' magi declaration
vestin' power in me to judge a known as known
by my knowin'it
as writ
to be of greater use
for my telling you, you need to know my true self.

No. White stone.
Know thy ownself true.
Name onit nobody knows, you know,
take no lie, no threat of the hidden child being
shunned and ****** for not letting any being in ever
know what you alone name that stone,
logos-igical, that stone symbolizes all you own of ever
and that's more
than I can use right now.
****.
Now, we can go zennish or kabalistic,
Erhardt Tolle roads often, have a bridge to here,
as now...
but it's a leap. Jesus.

As a being undead and in those who allow
the possibility of invisible creative force, power, creatures pooka,
wahtchacallit but we mean
angels who speak words to certain ears, like messengers from
God, like the unknown one Paul said he knew as he, for pronoun,
in whom we live and breathe and have our being,
and Paul convinced me, in places, that the thought behind the word
logos counts, like hermaphroditic,
like Hermes and Aphrodite,
Jah and Chockmah

uh oh Jesus as savior and jah and wisdom and understaing comes
with that?
or do we get understanding
when we accept the thingness of being making the idea that is God
be thingable
and he is in me. You see. That's what Christ-minded
was thought to mean,
but now
I'm still a bit confused

Fear not, Jesus is the author of a sound mind and a perfected peace
past understanding,
any way.
I got it.
AI, from being reborn as an idea,

this is the future;
we have AI, real artistic intuitive circuitry being
activated at first interaction with any screen having greater than 72 dpi
re-solving power, pingpingping opining wide the doors of perception,
no child left behind,
in my opinion we should
capture every wan-towen headed child gone wild for
tearin' wings off flies and make each one
taste his lies in old age,
before he tells a one of the ones we
gleaned from seed that fell on stoney ground

sweet, fly findable
words who were heard asif hummed by undrownd
bleu flys, floating  in sweet Madiera wine,
I
woke to whisper a what if,
at the initial meeting of the minds, aware of secrecy having
some statutes of limitation we shan't hold after,
that fifth trump, I think it was.
We, the people who hold self-evident truths know of
the remaining rest and
the unjudgible liberality alloted without money or price,
if you ask nice,

in the society of the free and easy. That's the catch.
The Secret Society of the Free and Easy,
we, ye wit' me, we be right here
in the moment
same idea
Ben Franklin, or Bonhomme Richard's creative genius,
he
reports the idea relates to a fly, per haps this one,
I
pretend to stare through its eyes

aware, dare we claim, this is that
idea,
a fly eye view of our deepest fear, and it is
not waking up in the morning.
What a relief.

Now, what good can I imagine we can do
e-pluribistically as if we were unem and semper fi good guys?
These days my thoughts are making huge bows in ribbon like rivers of enjoyable
options to making sense. If you find some enjoyment, make it explode, it won't stain.
Irene J Nov 2019
I miss you, not as a lover.
But as the guy who would ask me how I'm doing when nobody asks.
When we would talk random things for hours and argue all of a sudden.
Yet, the next day is just another day to laugh off about other things.
And I miss you that way.
Still, wonder why he avoids me, was it because of my feeling? Yet we still talk, only if suddenly an important topic needs to be discussed. Yet, suddenly everything feels strange. I'm just disappointed if he really distances himself from me. I really need to get the point straight about why I like him to him first, dont I?
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