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Puts his pen to paper
For one last goodbye
Will try his best to say it all
In this his final write

He'll address it to his loved ones
And those that know him well
In hopes they'll take it all with ease
Though there's no way to really tell

He's written about the ups and down
The ins and outs of life
So what is on this lonely page
Should come as no surprise

He's always felt so out of place
Even in this poets world
At one time was his saving grace
That no writings now can cure

So he puts his pen to paper
His beginning and his end
Never doing him any favors
Both as enemy and friend

All he can think to write
Is I've simply had enough
As his very last line for the very last time
Is written out in poets blood
Don't stop now your on a roll
Came shouts from the crowd outside
So he took out pen and paper
In hopes of another rhyme

There were faces pressed against the glass
All looking for a view
Hungry for some answers
In the form of poetic truth

The atmosphere was sticky wet
Droplets forming on his face
A heaviness hung in the air
Nervousness that you could taste

Never doing well under pressure
He has learned this over time
So he goes into his darkened room
To purge all thought from mind

That's when this idea it hits him
What we never have enough
Takes out a permanent marker
Writes on the glass...

...Simply Love
Guess I have a poet trilogy here...
Think I'll stop now...
All the poems I seem to write
Remain a mystery
Until the voice inside my head
Says it's time to set them free

Don't remember when I first tuned in
To all the inner noise
And don't recollect it giving me
A say in any choice

I'm just along for the ride
In this topsy turvy game
A conduit of sorts
If you must give it a name

As I put pen to paper
My hand twitches as it flows
What will be is guaranteed
Only do the voices know
where did it go

the american dream

slipped out through the tear

in the front porch screen

living in a cardboard box

on deserted streets

welcome to the nightmare

of the american dream
I was sitting at my computer
All intelligent and nonchalant
When a personality profile test popped up
In the most interesting of fonts

I decided this might be fun
So I clicked onto the site
And right away started answering questions
On what I did and didn't like

As soon as the test was over
With my feet planted firmly on the floor
I hit the button enter
There was immediately a knock upon the door

What appeared to be three business men
All in matching suits and ties
With darkened sunglasses all around
Like Hollywood Movie Stars in disguise

Before I knew what was happening
They threw a hood over my head
And carted me off without the slightest word
Not a single Howdy-Do was said

My new found friends threw me into the trunk
Of a waiting limousine
Where just as quickly as they arrived
We all left the scene

We came to a run down abandoned  Army base
In the middle of the desert
I had the feeling that what it was that was to come
Most certainly wouldn't be pleasant

They set me in the middle of a room
As men circled all around
I knew this had to do with the test
And wondered at what it was they found

When in walked "The Bossarooni"
And said don't worry son we're not here to mistreat cha
We're just curious as to why
You like anchovies instead of pepperoni on your pizza
As you can plainly see my poetry has turned to a more serious tone as of late...
If you even care to call it poetry...
But I am having fun!  WhooHoo!!!
I had an idea to write a poem
But I never got around
To putting pen to paper
To give the poem its ground

Told of my hidden feelings
And where it is they start
Spoke of dreams and visions
As I opened up my heart

I took hold of the moment
Expanded it with time
Let the deepest feelings that I have
Escape my inner mind

I had verses on the stars
Stanzas of the moon
All it was that I'd thought of
Spoken out in the truth

It had the beauty of serenity
The joy of peace to be its guide
Spoke of love shared by all of us
Giving new meaning to life

It took all of life's heartaches
And turned the hurt around
The only problem with all this is
I failed to write it down
It all started out so innocently
A thrift store here, a garage sale there
Anyways, Lord knows how bad I needed
The chartreuse rug of that polyester bear

It goes perfect in my kitchen
Though I can barely see the floor
Just need to move a few piles that grew
From me buying trinkets by the score

Some say I'm a crazy hoarder
I've seen the show and I'm not that bad
Anyway who doesn't need
A stuffed albino Siamese cat

Then there's all the broken plates of china
That I got for a steal
If I ever do find my stove again
I'll use them for my next meal

Why ask why I save all these milk jugs
You never do know when
A herd of cattle will be passing through
The middle of my den

You may say crazy hoarder
I may say I think not
When I look at pile after pile
Of all the treasures that I've got

If you ever care to visit
Just step over this, crawl over that
Till you come to that little itty bitty empty spot
Where we can sit back and relax
And have a little chat,
over this this and that,
maybe why it is ducks quack,
is it brains that they lack,
that my friend is whack...

Crazy Hoarder?!?
Don't make me laugh...
It ain't the pork, it ain't the beans
It ain't the mustard on saltines
It ain't the redneck social scenes

I love about the south

It ain't the ice cold sweet southern tea
It ain't the way that we say please
It ain't the way we lemon squeeze

I love about the south

It ain't the perfect slice of pecan pie
It ain't the wink in the bullfrog's eyes
It ain't the fireflies that light the night

I love about the south

It ain't the way we say yes ma'am
When you visit Alabam
It ain't the attitude of yes we can

I love about the south

It ain't the way that we say ya'll
With the syrupy sweet southern draw
No it ain't none of that at all

I love about the south

It's the crisp clear starry nights
Through the shifting shadows of the loblolly pine
As I stand here with your hand in mine

I love about the south

Just the fact that you are here
And that I can hold you near
As I hear you call me dear

*I love about the south
I actually love everything about the South.....
Often people ask me
What it is I do
Poet of the times
Purveyor of the truth

Peeling back the onion skin
Carving at the rhyme
Pouring drinks of imagery
Squeezing out the line

Taking out the sickle
Knocking down the weeds
Till I uncover the beauty of
Hidden treasures underneath

Often people ask me
What it is I see
In the ink of illusion
Known as poetry

I say the line of work I'm in
Suits this poet fine
Where so often I catch myself
Working overtime
I bid to you adieu
Adios, arrivederci, bye bye
So many different ways to say it
I never realized
In how many different languages
It is that I could cry
I will keep you in my heart
Please keep me in your mind
Needing a much needed break from my addiction...
It's been a blast! I'll never stop writing...just need a break from posting and checking my phone every 2 minutes...See Ya!
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