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I been writing like a mad man and had my works passport get stamped in multiple countries .

Australia,  Italy , Germany , England, Indiana .

Okay Indiana was more a state run mental institution but I was published there none the less and I liked finger painting graham crackers and crazy women so probs to them.

I mean I didn't want to visit there or anything no offense but im not a big fan off fields and chainsaw art .

I stayed busy flask in pocket and my mind constantly towards the page .

I had gained respect but still I always found my way home .

For better or worse Hello has been the house that me and few other writers built I was here from day one i'm the flaw you just can't hide .

Everyone's favorite black sheep and all around lovable train wreck.

My place was permanent .

Like me or hate me you couldn't ignore me .
Well you could try but I usually won people over or annoyed them to the point of blocking me and joining the witness relocation program but enough about my past relationships .

I was taking some time off from three months straight of chasing publication.

I posted a write at this place I called home for so many years .
It was solid as a brick **** house .

Then some kid posted a write that was total **** but had a pic of her cleavage in the restroom mirror .

It trended in two seconds had a bunch of ***** ******* telling lies in vague hopes to see more .

I knew the ship wasn't sinking it long since met its demise on the icy dark oceans floor .

You just can't compete with *******.

I set my sails to the closest port .
I would share some drinks and maybe see some familiar faces .

I believe a pirate is better suited to roam than be food for the ***** .

My future is in the wind not lost within the depths .

Stay crazy hope are ships pass in the night .

And if ever we find ourselves in the same port .
First rounds on you .

Never sit and wait for decay on any level will consume you .

Stay crazy

Gonz
Fell heal over heads
          in love with a poet,
  he's mostly a rhyme schemer
       likes Poe and his dark Raven,
  in actuality,  I'd fancy him more if
    he were like Pablo Neruda, but I digress
I'm much accurately fashioned after Emily Dickinson
        chasing heaven's June bugs toing and froing,
we'd meet at a perfectly superfluous coffee shop
    he'll be murmuring elegiac pentameter
I'm simply looking to devour precious words,
    we'd argue about abstract destinations,  
            straight forward persuasions and
               premonitions of wayward ink allusions,
some days I want to claw mine own eyes out
               amid all that nonsensical alliteration
  others, I want to rip out embellishments
                   of his black heart's magnification,
he mutters tumult under his breath,
     states he's abundantly sickly tired of all my
         fanatical froufroutant  flourished fantasies,
albeit, we're mild mannered artistes
         of overstatement and simplification
               thus, we continue laying it on thickly
I, with my hyperbolic cuppa tea and honey,
       he's all brass tacks, no nonsense black coffee
ultimately, we reservedly seek gratification,
      envisioning who functionally makes it first
to a finished line of manifestations's publication,
           in eternity's poetic intentions and beyond
For my good friend 'J', yes of course its been spiffed up & embellished!
Sedraya Fletcher May 2015
Is it my fault for digging the hole in which you crawl?
after you heard the girls whispering about your size
Who am I to say you are not beautiful at all?

You bought all that makeup to look like a doll
but he still walks past as tears flood your eyes
Is it my fault for digging the hole in which you crawl?

You read what was written on the bathroom stall
so you look towards me to confirm the lies
Who am I to say you are not beautiful at all?

You sit alone in lunch and walk alone in the halls
asking God as you look upon me to remove your disguise
Is it my fault for digging the hole in which you crawl?

It was in fact you who created your own fall
looking towards you to accentuate your flaws
Who am I to say you are not beautiful at all

In a way I helped you build your wall
though I can not mirror what your face implies
Is it my fault for building the hole in which you crawl
Who am I to say you are not beautiful at all
Mike Essig Apr 2015
I just published a humorous (I hope) essay on elephant journal at http://www.elephantjournal.com/2015/04/henry-miller-i-think-you-need-to-stink/

If interested, have a look.

Thanks

Mike
changed the link. Should work now.

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