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I'm so lucky to have a home video of my Wedding to Helen can watch whenever I
Helen had this Incredible
**** voice and a very naughty but nice
I'm happy through the Wedding video I can hear
that Incredible voice and can see her laughing and joking
Something photos can't do
but to be able to see her organising taking control
everybody would say she was like their own
I used to call her mother of all mothers such a good heart she had help anyone
so much was her
So I am a lucky man to known and loved such a
beautiful kind lady to whom I shared twenty wonderful
Such a lucky man I was to have known and loved such a beautiful kind hearted lady for twenty years
mint 1d
I have felt the weight of so many feelings pile up inside me over the years
The top layer of myself is composed of a loss for words
I fell in love once and back then it was as if the words would never stop flowing out of me
Poem after poem pouring out of my soul about a girl who i ended up falling so completely out of love with
Ever since then i have looked at my notebooks, stray post it notes once equipped for a passionate flurry of words to be smattered onto and then neatly folded into an origami heart  
I’ve looked at them and felt only loss
Falling out of love overtook me as slowly as falling in
Shy moments persistently becoming noticed until i realized that
I wasnt who i used to be when this all began
And honestly?
I dont know who i am anymore
I really don’t
And perhaps that’s why i havent found the words yet
These past few months i have been urging myself to write, write, write,
You know you will want to remember what this is like so write
But i looked inside myself and all i saw was a confusing blob, a living person with questions for organs and i didn’t know what to do
What had become of who i was
And so i pushed writing away
Words that so easily poured from my fingertips, trapped behind a self made dam
I felt silly
I feel silly
How to i begin to describe that i no longer recognize myself
That the image of who i was
A scared angry depressed teenager has been smeared at, scratched away with rough greedy hands
And i am left looking at an empty husk of an adult
A living breathing ‘what could be’
And i am lost
And i dont know
I must really admit, i know nothing- at all.
i havent written a poem in months. I kept stressing and worrying so i decided to just, let my brain do what it wants. And this is wat it did.
anomalous change
suicidal atoms
we fuelling
Global warning
Global warming
My dad was a bus driver when I was a kid always a thrill when he'd take me out In his bus got me away from the house for the
Away from my abusive mother that dad was totally aware of I would sit behind the driver seat to watch my dad driving his bus
He was well liked by all passengers for dad was so kind and polite and helpful
to all
He would drive through all those quaint little villages to pick up all the regular passengers I was so proud of him
He was my dad and I missed so much when he passed away and at his funeral
I spoke and said If I had a chance of one more day I'd wish for one more ride on a bus with him such a wonderful father he
My dad was a bus driver he was so well liked by all his passengers always a pleasure he'd take me out with him for the day
seven sides
where men enter in the name
The point OF no return
Wait in vain
None could see the future
None will ever no
died in the glory
In the name OF peace power greed
the list is to long to mention
Somewhere somebody
Going to die
By the name
Octagon of seven referred
To the 7 continents
charlie 3d
one day you'll understand
what you mean to me
and when you do
you'll see

i'll be watching you
in the morning sun
a smile on my face
complex to none

we stay out late
come home early
this isn't life
this is a dream, surely

we stay together
no matter what
because i love you
you keep your mouth shut

we sneak around
as our relationships crumble
but we'll stay together
we'll stay humble

we'll stay out together
hold hands as we walk
stay together forever
that's what we thought

he screams and yells
as you sit back and listen
to every word he says
the glow makes you glisten

he runs and he argues
how everyone knew
but only we did
not the rest of the crew

i can't see him
but i can see you
i want to cry out
i loved you too

you drip with blood
you look like art
this isn't simple
it's a change of heart
To look upon my life sometimes with little shame didn't always make the most of what I probably could
I suppose my biggest regret I didn't find my new found love of poetry sooner In
Through being Involved In poetry earlier I believe my my life could have been so much
more enriched
through the beauty
of reading and writing poetry
Being able to express so much with the power of words to encourage and help other's to find the beauty of
A poem about poetry and how wish I had discovered It sooner In life
How clean is clean
when the cleaning began
from the floor of a sunken ship?
Barnacles grace the walls in the place
of family, or a familiar face.

When filth is a given, and given
in projection to the overtly empathetic
as a matter of course, why implore?

Because you don't implore,
you explore as an entity
reaching for a meaning.

The question becomes,
do you fight, or do you invite
the coming cessation?

Even with a gun, and a view to ****,
the power the bullet affords
would surely fail to thrill you.
The best charlatans paint your hands red,
as you're sleeping in bed, preemptively.

Let the liars lie, let the builders connive.
Uninterrupted access to their own confines.
To Narcissus, the cool nod is colder than the knife.

Let the liars lie, let the builders connive.
When the company you keep requires the sacrifice
of your authenticity and your reality, just leave.

It'll never get good. It'll never get great.
It'll never be worth the investment.
Why does the Moon seem angry tonight?
All red she has gotten.
A moment ago she was pale and serene,
As the poets describe her to be.
But now she resembles Mars's twin,
Only crescent not quite round like him.
The sky is a blend of black and blue,
Not many stars in sight.
Is it why Selene is unhappy,
'Cause the stars were late and sloppy?
Or did she quarrel with the Sun at dusk,
'Bout solstices and equinox?
Or maybe she is annoyed at the clouds,
Who her pretty face did shroud.
Can it be that she is cold?
'Tis after all a December's night.
Or it might be that she is blushing,
Thinking of meeting her sleeping Valentine.
Oh no it can't that,
For she surely seems bitter.
Is it something I've done?
If only I knew what, I could make amends.
But I pray that ain't the cause.
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