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Jeremy Betts Apr 8
I see you
I know you don't think so,
but it's true
I see what you are being put through
I see you doing whatever it is you have too just to continue
I've seen the levels of doubt and anxiety you've been pushed to
I see you've lost faith in player two
I see you crack but not break,
Though I notice you running out of glue
And I see the struggles accrue,
With everything I do and don't do
Every time I tell you I've failed you
Your eyes tell me you already knew
This is nothing new
You don't deserve this much blue

Ken Pepiton Apr 1
I gotta ask

myself, am I mad, or is this that day, again,
did we make a plan to finish something again,
and not do it, again?

I do believe, we have settled that both ignore and
believe are verbs in a modality, meaning

if you do not do it, yourself, it does not get done,
I believe ignorance is an active state, sold as faith,
evidenced by things unseen,
substantially manifested
in the peace you hoped
to find, being yours
to make up, in your mind,

and let it drift into reality, as we breathe our
insides out,

there could be a word for that.
April 1, again, and now **** is legal in Berlin, we won, again.
Jeremy Betts Mar 2
If you gotta pick one over the other
Go with the other
Because if it was the one
There wouldn't be another


Kalakip ng bawat “oo”
Ang mapapait na “hindi” ng Tadhana.
Kung sa’yong palad ko ikakahon ang sarili’y
Mauubos ako sa sarili kong lakas
Habang sumusuntok ako sa buwan.

Mananatili akong aliping
Nakagapos sa sarılı kong mga pangarap
At marahil ito ang maging mista
Ng tuluyan kong pagkabulag
Pagkat sarili ang aking naging Lupang Hinirang.

Ni hindi masasaklawan ninuman
Ang bawat sumisirit na imahe sa aking balintataw.
At walang sinuman ang makapag-papahele
Sa akin hanggang makaidlip
Pagkat iba ang ritmo ng Pagsintang aking kinapapanabikan.

Kung sarili ang magiging lason
Ng aking pagkalimot sa aking unang sinumpaan…
Ay mas nais ko nang tuldukan
Ang bawat silakbo ng damdaming
Hanggang lupa lamang ang kasarinlan.
My Dear Poet Feb 23
When I said
I was here for you
I didn’t realise
you wouldn’t
be here too
Jeremy Betts Feb 17
I sit and think of thoughts of you
Some days a lot, most nights a few
But not of past things we've gone through
Not of things we said we'd get around to
Not of things we always planned to do
Because all that's left are things I wish were not true
Those are the only thoughts I have left of you

It was meant to be
Do you not agree?
I cannot deny
We see eye-to-eye
There are but a few
Who feel the way we do-
Happy yet so blue
Fake and yet so true
No need to say goodbye
Or let the time fly by
Listen, hear my plea,
Simply only love me
He loved or not at all
Hurt distrustful low
Fantastic teacher never
said good byes to nobody  
my twin soul and I.
Charming poet move on
You have passed my galaxy
many a time before
banner on hand prayer
in heart clearly shared.

Your private poem is read.
Follow your first dreams
GOA is closer to reach.
difficult to attain but
your efforts continue
strong she's your Zaheera.

With contract marriage
licence on hand
must abai by such law
Your cup is overflowed
There's no room for growth

My Angel's star to my beloved twin soul has deemed down
and this fool's
luster lingers on,
to stumps remains attached.
Forget this fool can write
and just learned to read.
My twin soul's
ancient forest paradise
drags pulling me in
Slippery ***** ever
so strong
   I've fallen off it's Cliffs
  hip joined to my first love
   Linked in love
  Interchangeable remain  
Mr and Mrs Dntz
Mr and Mrs Andrews.
Rddbba lifetimes.
By: Mr And Mrs Andrews
And Karijinbba.
(for Daisy, a true companion to poet rr)

in the city,
we fight daily the toughest of hombres,
brown, grayed, mottled city pigeons,
who fear no human predator,
in the fight
for the crumbs and crusts of
however, they may come our way

get a message, a post,
with the words
“a good create”

the words form a chord,
in my throat, taut, visible, tense
even knowing it’s likely a typo,
probably meant “creature,.”

but the phrase strikes me
as one too little spoke
in our diurnal drudgery
numbing~dumbing struggle,
but, I take them as (a) writ,
for the crumb of challenge

if we cannot justify our existence,
daily with a new create,
then incumbent upon us
to cherish, double and thrice,
the good and wonderful
the surround us

been decades since my body
was warmed by the shape of an animal’s
curves fitted into mine,
our sleep rhythm intertwined,
so once again,
I mourn a living poem
who crossed my path
in photo, in words,
but never,
not in,
living color

but the sighs of loss,

so as is my wont,
inquire within,
where shelter?

in the love
we create
tween us and our

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