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shamamama Mar 18
hp
we
weave
poems

like
life rafts
floating
on the
sea

of
tears
fears
trails
of
virals
mirrors
see ers
sea
erganomics

to
be seen
or
not
to
seen

to
write
or
not
to
write

that
is
the
questi­on
thank you hp!
Mark Wanless Jan 1
read death raft
for 10 hours straight
slow reader
False Poets Feb 2018
there is no value in a poem that reads
_____
_____
____­
M M l i f e s u c k s x x x n o p o e m i g o t

just

nerve; crap bs, a denial of craft

seek the intelligent intelligible,
kiss the sensational thrill that
emotion harvests with resonating tenses
that beg our brains to differ, sense

this claims,
there is no value in no words is
a hoax cloaked as art by the weak,
make thy metaphors metastasize,
my every cell, a preposition,
preposterous and precious and
comforting in their
privations and provocations

speak to us in alpha and
line our eyes wide,
with pictures at an exhibition
of a faun immobile and beauteous

let me hang on every word of yours and
let it be the raft that sees me happily
unsafe home

take your bs line poem  
shove it down your silent voice

this is not avant garde; this is insulting

p.s.  write me a smile and all will be_____
.
A Mar 2018
I'm drifting on an endless sea,
All I hear is the rolling waves,
As I drift so quietly,
My hope begins to break.

I'm drifting in this endless sea,
All I see is eternal blue-green,
As I find my heart is silent,
It begins to shatter.

I'm drifting with this endless sea,
All I know is hunger and thirst,
As my old radio crackles,
The last bit of power fades.

I'm drifting on an endless sea,
All I feel is the power of the tide,
As my raft is thrown about,
My body sinks down.

I'm sinking in an endless sea,
All I know is that I'm drowning,
As my breath leaves in a cloud of bubbles,
I begin to die.

I'm floating in this endless sea,
All I feel is fear,
As my hands close around water,
Death is very near.

I'm swimming through this endless sea,
All I see is saltwater,
As my arms desperately stroke,
My lungs taste the air.

I'm treading this endless sea,
All I see is the hull of a ship,
As my arms wave at the crew,
They notice me there.

I'm out of the infinite sea,
All I know is that I'm free,
As a blanket wraps around my shoulders,
I know that it's all right.
A poem on being stranded after a shipwreck.
Purcy Flaherty Feb 2018
Drifting on a raft of dreams
Listing to the birds & trafic
Timothy hill Mar 2017
Shower of hell pours down into your being.

You cast others as dust to your kind of soul.

Shallow stains with only pity.

Ye hold no hate raft only take its place.

You do know you are of strange depitions.

So be kind, and not too overly stern for you shall seek love of beauty.

Death is a font in style with harsh structure.

Huge door, like sentences knock down your barriers let the pure light Pierce threw.

And you will become of some thang new.

Until this day, you are meaner, than a stage full of people with a mild cast of rage.

Sad tears flood, your place you need a life saver yet you shrug at that too.

I met you last summer and you where kind and polite.

Now you are meaner, and denser than effects can construct.

So I'll ask what made you this way?

Was it the death, of your friend that took his life by the "knife blood driping" down as a mother pulls it out.

The fog of that very moment hazed your light.

Now you persit to overwhelm your life with your own made strees.

Yes it was that I miss his friend ship.
Of a old lost friend.
Alan S Bailey Dec 2016
The Raw, Wild West Indeed!

I'm in a raft you gently paddle
The sense of this argument that comes
To me and tells me I've been a wild fool,
Better off smothered, a tool,
That entraps me in this triangle
of guilt, fear, and waves of madness.
I am on the verge of a total meltdown
Because you sing gently and dip your oar
Into the water quietly.

All the time!

It's now finally sundown,
Still the ebb and flow of my nerves
Are unsettled as the world spins around me,
My stomach in a knot I can't breath.
This is the end and *my heads numb,
I can not feel,
There is one thing on my mind and it won't
Go anywhere so it disappears a distant hush.
There is the scent of flowers on your tidy scarf,
It reminds me of the fragrance of too much
Cologne. I try to escape but you hold all the keys,
*I just wish your boring "epic" show of modern
Over perfection would leave me alone!
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