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#pad
I’ve got a new pad, 50 pages That’s a lot of room for my rages Enough space to spill my soul Getting to the cardboard, that’s my goal It might take me a while I’ll have to laugh, cry and smile When I finally get to the end The cardboard will be my friend
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Jul 25, 2025
Jul 25, 2025 at 3:48 PM UTC
My New Pad
talking, talking, talking— radio silence the space that nothingness fills is almost violent yelling, yelling, yelling— something's working uncovering ugly truths that have been lurking crying, crying, crying— because it's broken there is just too much that we let go unspoken
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May 5, 2021
May 5, 2021 at 7:21 PM UTC
it comes in 3's
hey, hi, hello —this is your life, the view is vaguely familiar out of the passenger seat window, two years of autopilot isn't generally recommended— the mind can time travel or so it thinks unannounced comings and goings, quiet reintroductions occur daily as to alarm no one of your departure
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May 3, 2021
May 3, 2021 at 12:44 PM UTC
(re)introduction
In a forest, tucked away hidden between padded ferns and angered flowers, whose roots grew wider then the seas, was a heart crossed of all the thorns she didn't need.
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Nov 12, 2020
Nov 12, 2020 at 1:02 PM UTC
down the beaten path
Perceived perfection So untouchable Desperation grasping Yet held far out of reach Cherished in heartbreak Preserved beyond embrace Separation prevents Defamation A sacrifice With nothing gained Presumed paltry Defective at distance Horrid by the mile Yet proximity brings tranquility Intimacy that Mends the mirror Seals the cracks Rudimentary becomes Paragon A sacrifice Which gains everything
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Apr 17, 2020
Apr 17, 2020 at 8:18 PM UTC
forms of love
I once was found But now I am lost Took a wrong turn Got my signals crossed Used to know who I was Now I don't have a clue My world's been flipped Since I first met you My life was planned out I had a grand vision Now it's been wrecked By our reckless collision But I'd rather be lost On this wild ride Than find all I desire Without you by my side
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Nov 6, 2018
Nov 6, 2018 at 10:49 PM UTC
Found and Lost
Wind whispers to me "I bring cold, aromas, leaves" I know life's a breeze
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Nov 5, 2018
Nov 5, 2018 at 8:49 PM UTC
A Haiku, Gust For You
Don’t plead like Biebs Timbaland was right Too late for "sorry" Can’t erase the blight Your apologies Might seem polite But all your white lies Have been brought to light Selfish transgressions Brought this plight Upon your own life Despite the height Of your own success Now it seems so trite As they kick you out Into the cold, dark night Mistakes explode Like dynamite As your life ignites Failures burn so bright Crashing down in fury Dead meteorite You feel the pain Your enemies delight Nowhere to hide Your shame in plain sight Adrenaline surging Now it’s fight or flight So just take a sec Sit down, rewrite Reset your future Set yourself upright Your values and actions Gotta reunite Redemption’s hard No way to expedite It’s gonna hurt But hang in tight
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Nov 4, 2018
Nov 4, 2018 at 7:30 PM UTC
Redemption
That's it, I'm done, not once more I'll never put things off again I push work back at every chance My secret slothful sin Well now I'm through procrastinating It's time to change my ways But I don't have the time right now Swear I'll quit one of these days!
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Nov 4, 2018
Nov 4, 2018 at 1:16 AM UTC
Tired of Procrastinating
seated on a bright yellow stone slab bench beside a cobblestone path diving steeply into dark forest my page illuminated by the last trace of filtered sunlight this overcast Friday eve mountains peeking through low clouds marking dark silhouettes against a blue-gray southeast sky hints of pink paint the western clouds softly bidding us goodnight scattered shouts and musical notes waft up from the town's bars below dancing through the trees flowing to the rhythmic folklore of the local vallenato band night closes in darker each minute the thin yellow crescent overhead seizes its moment shining brighter and louder through the wispy clouds as mountains emerge at last from fog they dissolve just as quickly into the black sky all vibrant hues melt away the bench transforms dark yellow becomes gray beneath my weight one last vestige of color lingers on the dull red burning on the horizon sparks an inner fire of gratitude for every second of light every second of life my page descends into darkness written thoughts plunge back into the unexpressed depths of the mind Night falls.
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Nov 3, 2018
Nov 3, 2018 at 3:27 AM UTC
Nightfall
He wants none of it The unrelenting fame Paparazzi's lights Never out of sight The crushing weight Of a well-known name He wants none of it The life-sucking fame Endless demands From legions of fans Happiness funneling Right down the drain He wants none of it The soul-deadening fame Prestige a cruel mistress All joys turned to business Dousing his spirit To extinguish its flame No, he craves anonymity For stardom to cease To be happy with less Freed from the stress True glory found In a life lived in peace
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Nov 2, 2018
Nov 2, 2018 at 12:40 AM UTC
Faceless
Let's try to craft one poem a day A month of our thoughts conveyed Just give it a shot Why the hell not? Let our words find their own way
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Nov 1, 2018
Nov 1, 2018 at 11:48 PM UTC
Poetize Daily
You're my snickerdoodle, pumpkin strudel, You're the sauce upon my noodle, You're prettier then a purple poodle, You're the one I like to doodle,......on my doodle pad,...
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May 11, 2015
May 11, 2015 at 10:22 AM UTC
What you are to me:)
With pen and pad in hand, I’m finally ready to take a stand. This is how I get my words out best, it’s kind of like a written test. It seems to be the only thing that works when it comes to you, I get flustered by that smirk. But something about written words is easier, I bet you’re starting to wonder if it could get cheesier. Maybe it’s because of your eyes, and how they reflect the night skies. Or how every inch of my body reminds me of you, it’s like to me, this body is brand new. My hands, they are now meant to hold yours or how you’re the one my heart adores. See my body is no longer my own, my ownership fell apart with every moan. Thoughts like this, admissions like this, seem to get lost amidst each kiss. That’s why pen and paper are best, for my admission here can attest. I get a bit lost when you’re close to me, our bodies intermixed means you’re all I see. With a pen in hand, my thoughts aren’t all over, I don’t feel like so much of a rover. This is where it’s thoughtless, where I’m anything but cautious. So, this is so you know that I love you, and with pen and pad in hand, it's easy to construe.
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Apr 28, 2015
Apr 28, 2015 at 11:40 PM UTC
Pen and Pad
I walk beneath the shadows of dragonflies and in fields of stunted daisies A witness to migrating monarchs Whose voyage is eons from being completed, when they only have 3 weeks at most to live. I walk in pale fields of dusty sunbeams and loud fading moonlight Humming crickets play accompaniment to solo pairs of feet, making way for still creeks and large lily pads to find a nice place to think.
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Dec 14, 2014
Dec 14, 2014 at 5:09 PM UTC
pale fields
it's past midnight and my thoughts is just fuzz, lintballs and cotton candy rolling around like tumble weeds across a vast and barren plain that purports to a working brain. i am so very far beyond myself that i am forgetting who i am....why... it is grant writing season and i have used my quota of words ... so just visualize something wonderful, off to the west over there.. while i sleep over under this tree here.... and if i am quiet enough, maybe i will come back, to me. then the carniva, will begin again tommorrow... sonetimes real life is such a grind...
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Aug 14, 2014
Aug 14, 2014 at 6:44 AM UTC
beyond myself
it seems, my words have lost their allure, this morning. and i am too fixated, on vainly scrawling. to see the crafts of others, floating on the river poetry. i am, hands to the oars, rowing against, a beautiful tide. endevouring, to attain a mooring, on the inside of a thought. what would happen, if i..... let go and read just one or two poems from other, weary skullsmen and made comment. it mayhap... nothing, but then it, maybe... instead of poetry, decrying a dying state. the poet in the other boat, rowing silently, for a moment, or a lifetime is encouraged to, greater acts of creativity. just maybe.....maybe.
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Jun 18, 2014
Jun 18, 2014 at 5:26 PM UTC
rowing on the river arts poetica
you leave me abed with only the echo of your warmth... my heart, sleepily bereft. but my body, mindful of opportunity stretches, rolls over to sleep a few hours more..... before waking to start the cool winters morn..
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Jun 15, 2014
Jun 15, 2014 at 7:24 PM UTC
echo of warmth.
i kiss, the nape of your neck, while you still sleep and inhale you. spearmint, sandlewood and citrus combined with clean sweat. you stir and roll over, you are healthy and in your prime. more than my heart stirs, more than your heart, responds. your lips, meet my skin for the first time, allover again. i am drawn... like moth to flame . i am before you, barely, contained, but your teasing, tendril,torching, tongue scatters me to richochet, without thought or sense. my lips seek the curve of your collar bone and neck as if to feast upon your soul. my hand behind your head holding, kneeding, that spot on the top tip of spine that makes you growl. our desires grow deep, our arousal complete, we move, to connect our hips in early morning, grinding, greeting, i quiver, as you, rampant, touch my lips... ....and our son begins to wail and sob. we break, with regret.... unrequieted. i go to see to him, you, to a cold shower. our day begins, with love and frustration. but then, there is always, the art of... delayed gratification.....
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May 30, 2014
May 30, 2014 at 5:15 PM UTC
almost...
***conjugating     thought and action, is harder than it looks this morning*** think get out of bed act hit snooze button think drink coffee act miss mouth, wear coffee think what to do next act blank look think rewind start again act go back to bed ........ conjunct made
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May 29, 2014
May 29, 2014 at 4:27 PM UTC
conjugating...
the demidiety of the household, demands the sun.... he craves for to bask in glorious heat.... and have, the world adore.... his corrugated, gargoyled  blue-grey skinned beauty. as well it should... he is.... after all....a rex.... of the mau, bast, line. and me, his  loyal human factotum.... i am here to....            open the blinds...
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May 28, 2014
May 28, 2014 at 7:33 PM UTC
the god of fur and wrinkly skin
insurmountable undefatigable yet sitting lost for words my friend you are here beaten broken and alone your choice created this your bloody pride made this clusterfuck happen again you need to hop down off your tall pristine pedestal of hurt hubris and apologise till your stupid tongue bleeds then apoligise once more and hope she listens then spend the lifetime making sure she knows you love her more than that stupid.......
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May 28, 2014
May 28, 2014 at 9:20 AM UTC
dog house blues(hiaku string)
heart, encompasses, soul acorn & oak my life,my loves blessed by days better & free you both a treasure given me. by the way ...don't forget to feed the cat...
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May 27, 2014
May 27, 2014 at 11:31 AM UTC
five lines left