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My wife, a psychiatrist, sleeps
through my reading and writing in bed,
the half-whispered lines,
manuscripts piled between us,

but in the deep part of night
when her beeper sounds
she bolts awake to return the page
of a patient afraid he'll **** himself.

She sits in her robe in the kitchen,
listening to the anguished voice
on the phone. She becomes
the vessel that contains his fear,

someone he can trust to tell
things I would tell to a poem.
 Jan 2013 Thomas Gagliardi
JLB
Knives to the chest:
Things I cannot know
Just yet.
10 word poem
 Jan 2013 Thomas Gagliardi
JLB
Strange;
different words,
differently arranged,
yet nothing's changed--
Yearning remains.
10 word poem
It's all I can do to keep myself contained
How much louder will it get? I can't
Bare it, I can't. I need someone, I can't ask.
Help me, just listen. Let me speak, let me talk,
Let me explain. I'm obsessing, I'm weak. I'm a
Fool. I need to sleep, but my mind? It won't allow it.
It's taunting me, I can't bare it, I can't stand it.
Friends? Where are you, I need you. Please, anyone.
I don't know how to do this alone, I don't even know
How to explain it, I just know I need you. I can't
Reach you, any of you. You're all there. You're always
There, where I can't find you as much as I need to.
I'm getting so angry with you, all of you and I hate it.
Nobody lets me explain anything. I'm branded, a
Freak, a stranger, a girl without a heart but I do have a heart.
If I don't, then what is aching?
Physically it hurts. I think, and it hurts. It aches. It feels so lonely.
It's not the place, it's the people. Not even the people - these select few.
Why am I so selective? Why did I choose people who are busy?
I need someone and I don't know who.
I can't sleep, when I do I never want to wake up. I'm struggling and I
Can't convey this to anyone. Why does everyone keep telling me to
FORGET ABOUT IT. Let it go. Don't worry. Chill. Cheer up.
You don't get it, it's not about you. You feel better saying those things
but I don't. I feel empty, being pawned empty advice that does nothing.
There I go again, getting annoyed because you don't get it.
I've been saying thank you and I feel a little lighter, temporarily.
I wake up feeling the lowest I possibly could.
I work feeling the most inadequate I have ever felt.
I return back here to a cold and empty house. It's brilliant. I love it.
Nevermind, it doesn't matter. It will go away eventually.
I will just have to say what I need to say to myself and hope for the best.
I hate this.
If it's any help. I need someone to talk to, that's what I'm trying to say.
So, I have been hacked
completely,
by somebody
and so I think,
"Well, I don't have
anything in here,
so, who cares?"
and since,
I am always looking
for a bigger audience
to read my stuff,
I think,
"Great, I've got some
wonderful criminal
or something
reading me!"
so I am completely hacked
right down to the source,
so I think,
"Excellent!",
but I might
go get my computer fixed
because the other people
in my little network
probably don't like him,
so, we'll see
maybe I'll just say,
"Honk it!
I'm in love!"
 Jan 2013 Thomas Gagliardi
Lee
Only ten words and i still cant use them wisely.
 Jan 2013 Thomas Gagliardi
Chuck
I read about your tricks constantly
Operating continuously
Going away without one last wave
Yet, your selfish heart is often saved

You haunt a poet in her dreams
You're a *******, or so it seems
Ignoring a loving gesture
Then thoughts of you start to fester

Why don't you treat these women right?
You always start a nasty fight
Why don't you love these kind women?
In their heads your often swimmin'

I love their poems you help to create
A poetic nut kicking is your fate
Mental games with women, a mortal sin
(NEW POEM) That S.O.B. did it again!
I love the poetry, but noticed many are about the same S.O.B., so I wanted to help with the poetic nut kicking. Haha Hope that was never me.
I tried to write one for the men too, To the Woman.
 Jan 2013 Thomas Gagliardi
Chuck
You make hearts feel not well
Tortuous glances send men to Hell
You're the muse of so many poems
Why don't you let us men alone!
Come on girl, please pick up the phone!

We men should ban together
Flee from all of this bad weather
You turned us into insomniacs  
We still love you, we're not brainiacs
Though, when you kissed our friend, we had heart attacks
Baby, forget these guys, please take ME back

I started this poem angry at you
Wanting to hurt your heart too
But you know I will always love you baby
Don't say yes, I'll be happy with maybe
Forget other guys, they're all crazy
They are mean, stupid, and lazy
Was angry at first, now things are hazy
You know I still love you baby

What? I'm a man. I'm weak! It's okay, just love me.
This is to answer To the S.O.B. But I couldn't be as mean to a woman. I feel the men in these type of love poems always cave. Sorry guys.
It’s good to see you again.

We’ve been expecting you
Please
Sit.

Now…

Lights!
Orchestra!
Curtains!


Bringing forth nighttime lore, the charming chamberlain of Libertine plays
Summoning forth demonic myths, the illustrious weaver of unspoken entities
Dancing on memories, the enchanting fairy of skeletal trees
Sizzling behind magenta curtains, the voluptuous seductress of throbbing blood
Laughing at the potluck, the swollen headmaster of flab
Killing in the alleys, the inscrutable Ripper of Jack
Fornicating in the wild in the dragon’s keep, the ***** of Babylon

Swell the strings!
Blast the horns!
The cast is assembled

The symphony of sensational voyeurism
Yes, you in delight
Don’t deny your
Sacred rite
That’s right



Join my dear

Don’t be shy

Ascend the stairs

And come on stage



Good



Take my hand and venture now through the broken mirror of Assyria
The dunes of sands
Mounded and layered beneath the crisp blue sky

Not a single cloud
Not a single soul

Except for us

My dear
Feel the sand

It’s cool to the touch

The wind encircles your lush hair

The air feels and smells like the breeze of the sea

Where Athenian, white houses line the shores of this desert-sea world


Look up into the blue sky

Witness the open dome in the center

Above our head


Past the blues sky dome is the space between spaces.

Orange silk stars and red trimmed planets
Violet smeared nebulae and green morphing galaxy clusters

Float up to the top of the open space dome in the center of the sky

Reach out and extend your hand

As you touch, the area between this world and the next, ripples spread out from the imagery of the universe.

You touch water in the form of visual, ethereal paradise

The ripples of time expand like the vibrations of sound across the sky

Painting a new canvas of dripping oils and melting clocks



Close your eyes.

Your body hovers in the air

Far from the ground

And far from the person everybody knows


No matter how much a person perceives to know about another, there will be a part us that no one will ever comprehend.



Because to completely absorb the entirety of another life

memories

personality

thought process

dreams

Soul



Is incomprehensible

Inconceivable

Futile



A new world attrition
Through masturbatory perdition

A raging, unquenchable and suffering desire that plagues

The bold

The young

The old

The naive

The smart

The swift

The innocent

The ******

The addicts

The self-proclaimed purists

The self-proclaimed “good people”

“innocent people”

“trusted people”



We are all what we live for: a lie

A lie that consumes the norm

With invisible abnormalities

We are the blind

The deaf

The mute

The chained

The ignored

The punished

The poor

The dumb

The frightened

The dead



The end





Thank you for being here once again.  None of this couldn’t be possible without: Clive Barker, Iron Maiden, headphones, batman, duplexes, Salvador Dali, The hour of the Wolf, folding chairs, wool blankets, Silicone *******, chocolate icing, Bruce Campbell, 28 Days Later, true love, true grit, The seventh seal, black widow spiders, Vishnu and anyone else I forgot to mention.



Please come again.
Yes, yes I know you are probably asking, "How many of these entries are there?" . I couldn't say really, but hey stick around and found out. Let's see what my mind has to offer.  Probably not much, but is it quality or quantity that should out weigh each other? Boing! Hey look, Pizza.

No need to fret, protesters outside my window, this is now a declaration of war to your lives (or is it?), just a free verse/form writing exercise.  Till we meet again my Peeps, minions and droogs.
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