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Star BG 5d



The best insurance in the world
coming to a clock near you.
Our higher selves, angels, archangels, God, guides and alien beings of light
speak to all
Simple reminders of our policy with spirit
comes when we see triple numbers in day.
Savor them. They are a gift.
Fullfreddo May 2015

not a fan of reality TV,
plenty of "unreal" episodes
of my own direction stored,
available for further review
in the storage units of
neuronic black and white prison brain cells

which is why I have free~will chosen
to enumerate my poem~videos;
for easy retreat retrieval resurrection
of the travelogue of mind own insurrections

a garage of mobility devices,
car, rollerblades, cross country skis plus,
a potpourri of escape methodologies
that by definition are all round trippers,
returned to their storage unit after use

and I count them Noah~like,
two by two, as they come on board,
and when they disembark for days of
rest and recreation

this one, #4,
is born
among headstones,
just anther memory storage unit
flag decorated,
but different

This is a one-way,
no return,

it can be viewed at anytime
by those who care to be users,
by speaking this:

Read to me poem number four,
on a day we celebrate,
about free men of every color and persuasion,
who are calling out to
open the door to storage unit four,
so we to can perform
our once-a-year
Tour of Duty
to the those who called,
and answered with limb and love,
for by their glory,
we are
free too

to remember in any way we choose

memories of a veterans parade,
on a May Memorial Day
It's all just numbers, isn't it?
Day by day,
Year by year,
Always counting.

Day by day look at the number on the scales.
Let the caloric calculator count until your head is filled with numbers.

Minute by minute count the seconds it takes for him to text you back.
Let the doubt and fear multiply until your head is full of him.

Term by term let a percentage on a piece of paper define your worth.

Don't we have better things to do than count?
Jing Xi Lau Mar 8
Rain sprinkling on our glasses.
Wind rattling our coats.
We were walking down an unfamiliar street,
Gravel crunching beneath our feet.
You smiled but then you stopped,
A curve that wasn't fully stretched.
You pulled out your hand from your coat pocket,
Began counting on your fingers.
Counting the days we have left.


Maybe if you stopped counting,
Numbers would cease to exist.
If numbers ceased to exist,
Whatever we have left,
Could only be measured by moments,
Not days,
Or minutes.
But moments.

In each moment,
A baby is born into this mess of a world,
But is readily embraced by it.
In each moment,
A schoolgirl is crying alone in a bathroom stall,
Waiting to be saved from isolation.
In each moment,
A couple shares their first kiss.
In each moment,
Beer bottles are smashed,
Wives are beaten,
Children threatened.
In each moment,
A dreamer stops dreaming,
A poet stops writing.
In each moment,
Hellos are idly uttered,
Goodbyes are not said.

How does one count every moment,
On fingers that are numbered?


You didn't understand.
How could you?
So in that moment,
I grabbed your hand,
Held it in mine.
Our fingers intertwined.

Amanda Mar 4
How many of our smiles are fake?
How many of us wish our own lives to take?
How many people out there feel alone?
Or even worse feel like they are just another clone?
How many souls are crying out for another?
And how many of them will meet each other?
How many loved ones have passed away?
How many deal with depression each day?
Or another mental illness they carefully hide?
How many of you out there are broken inside?
How many humans are truly at peace?
And just when will that contentment cease?
How many of us have cut out our hearts?
And destroyed it so no one else could hurt that part?
How many of us have watched those we love the most,
Change over time into an unrecognizable ghost?
How many people have each one of us used?
How many words have we said that left others ego bruised?
How many friends have we drifted apart from?
How many of us are horrified by what we have become?
How many goodbyes cut good people open wide?
Leaving them gutted by the empty space by their side?
How many hours have been wasted by sorrow?
How many todays ruined by yesterday or tomorrow?
How many questions has mankind really asked?
How many people walking by are wearing an ornate mask?
How many of us are able to say the smile we don is real?
And mean it when we tell another how it is we feel?
The answers are only numbers with an unimportant sum,
They don't matter because the tragic fact of every last one
Is that they all show us our harsh reality;
The truth most people cannot accept or see

We'd rather make-believe our lives are as happy
As we know they will not ever be
Actually thinking about other people's problems for once..
rgz Mar 4
For the rarest song
Finding only dull distant chords
Of listless fabrication, fell whispers on the wind
A terrifying soliloquy of tortured indolence, torrents of buried dreams
Rendered inaudible by the ears they fell upon
Each deaf as the silence before
Call of the doldrums
As I
Inspired by lateralus and the fibonacci sequence, the syllables in each line are the sum of the line before then the pattern reverses in the middle
EmVidar Feb 28
Beautiful girl
Do you know how much you are loved
How you stand at the summit
Would you believe it
If angels came down to sing your praises
Because even they would fail to express it
Beautiful girl
Would you climb out of that hole
If a prince presented you with a ladder
Can you believe it if he presented you with the world
Because that’s all he can give but you deserve the moon and the stars as well
Beautiful girl
Could you believe the things I say
They are what you say to me
And I  
Don’t believe you
This was written for a friend who had just gone through a break up yet she didn't tell anyone and instead listened to their problems. She was someone who we all depended on but she never allowed herself to trust us as well.
I've found that everything that I've ever loved has ended in threes
Three months in a school that taught me nothing but arts
Three weeks of my first boyfriend
Three months for falling for something ******
Three months after that to build myself up
Three seconds of peace and quiet
Three lights hanging in the sky

Three pictures and reasons of wanting to die

Everything bad ends in five
Five minutes to get over my school
Five days to decide when to end my boyfriend's neglecting voice
Five weeks to realize I had found someone better and new

Five months I have to wait to see you
Juan Bot Feb 26
Down the street he ran,
until he was nowhere to be seen.
Good lives lead to happiness
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