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Don't be quick
to stop and search.
Do slow and speak.
Do stop at the curb.
Do sit.
Do commit to shape
a future city nation
where more space is given
to a wider conversation
with a newer translation
that's truer in comparison
than any black and blue
blunt force confrontation.
Stop.
Listening to ill-conceived political solutions to social problems.
Kasti 5d
I think about you a lot.
You’re always on my mind.
It’s honestly troubling sometimes,
how much you cross through my mind.

Never checking both ways, left, right, left.
Never considering how I would feel.
You don't tread lightly when exploring
my undiscovered corners and thoughts.

But that’s okay, I love you too much to blame you.
It’s unhealthy, maybe, maybe not, I know that I want you.
I need you.

but I don't love you.

Please just kiss me one time,
I’ve been dying to know you.

Just kiss me once more,
I've been dying to know
if this is real life.

A whirlwind of thoughts sweeps through, taking houses and trees right out the ground
Crashing, flashing, with a bang and a spark, it’s like magic
The flood of your eyes has fully taken over
And you’re the only thing on my mind.
I don't know why I write
Before I met my wife
I could move through
life like a ghost on a painted landscape not
seen by anyone, nobody
knew
me  
or didn't want to know
me, but I didn't care me
was me and all that mattered when met
Helen all of sudden I
was known
by
everyone
couldn't walk down
the street without
being notice someone would recognise Helen
we would stop-start
all the time talking
to
people
who didn't know me Helen's her friends suddenly became mine but when sadly Helen passed on
slowly people have moved away from
me
I'm starting to become
Invisible again to the world, very rarely stopped
In the street now I don't have Helen I'm now
again
forgotten
I can walk the street like ghost In a landscape
painting you would have to look very closely to see me to
most
I'm no longer there free to roam the streets to shop never really being noticed and the best I don't really mind that
much
Before my wife nobody knew me it perhaps didn't want to
then with Helen suddenly known by all but now she
gone the friends all gone but
In a way can't say I mind
Off the train I hit the streets
and start laughing. This is ridiculous,
incomprehensible. How can innumerable bipeds
have individual inner lives. Why are they doing
what they’re doing? I have no answer
New York City but to also go about my business
in this case prepare for surgery, survival.

But why survive with so many exact replicas
to replace me? A swarm of ants or hive of bees,
social organisms they’re called, climbing
over each other, avoiding bumping and amazingly
making way, anticipating the sudden turns
and straight paths of others, strangers but brothers,
sisters incubating, the cells of a small
*****, nodes of a single semi-conscious organism.

The concept of a higher power that cares
for me is also risible yet how else
can I explain the surgeon and his team,
robots and magnetic resonance imaging machines,
all primed and trained to save my life.
They are not particularly interested in what
I do with my time. I am immediately
in love with the Irish brogue of the head nurse,

the Indian skin of the physician’s assistant.
The long extraordinarily thin
fingers of the famous surgeon. All
mine to savor (and the other cancer patients).
Back on the streets, rush to the train.
So many women to choose from! One Asian-American,
a dancer I imagine, stands out, tall
calm, still, graceful. No cell, no hair, no hurry.

Yesterday’s suicidal thoughts: the mind
is a clever servant, insufferable master. Therefore,
meditate on this: absolute need, dependence on the Other.
I still like Hombre, The Shootist and Ulzana’s Raid
but realize those dead heroes
were subordinate to society: the gun manufacturers who armed them.
Thus, I go for cancer tests, accepting, not predicting results.
Hero accepting help.

A torrential rain following five days of flooding,
tornadoes out west busting up wooden towns
all because too many of us are hoarding plastic, herding electrons.
None of us know how it will end, what the outcome will be
(of our surgery). The best that can be said
is Don’t forget to breathe. And you might
as well believe in that higher power.
www.ronnowpoetry.com
Bohemian Feb 26
There's a little yearn and
fancy
To ramble upon those wet meadows
Breathe the mist in air,merged
With the leaves rustling on the trees about the edges
Where street lights stammer to lighten intercept
When from the neighbourhood visits the melody of someone's flute
Someone
Dwelled into the night
For awaken till this hour of it
Jenna Feb 26
The color of death,
is conceived as red
blinking consistently,
threateningly, and
annoyingly

Time slows to seconds
for there is a timer
to mark my death
white, rectangle strips
draw me to,
My last resting place
sometimes
love is a one way street
and i always go the wrong way
and love the ones i shouldnt
going down these one way streets causes me to crash
Wellspring Feb 13
It's the most surreal feeling
Walking down a street that
Should be full of noise and traffic,
But for some reason, it's not.
A sad ukulele strumming away in your ears,
The sounds of the wind,
The birds,
The trees,
All accompanied by the empty streets,
And the grey clouds moving slowly overhead.
So this happened this morning. It was weird.
Peter Balkus Feb 1
I thought I saw her
earlier on today,
but it was me,
reflected in a shop window
my own face.
Allen James Jan 30
Like the moment I first saw her,
Parched lips that tasted water,
Mother Nature's only daughter,
Living on the street,

In the open desert valley,
I feel her air around me,
Effortless and soundly,

One day we will meet.
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