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in the longest days of summer
the sun could be up ‘til ten o’clock
PM of course
the night begins then
the street lamps every block or two
when those come on
we’re expected home
that’s nighttime
so the sun’s going down around ten
that’s PM again
and it rises around five
AM if it matters
so there’s barely seven hours of dark
to call night and
that puts midnight
Around one-thirty
AM, ya know
so while midnight is twelve
again AM, yeah
twelve AM
it’s not really midnight
well, it is
because midnight is accepted
to be twelve
AM, I know, but
I want to be clear
so if nighttime is
measured in darkness
at least where I am
and particularly
at this point in the year
AM again
just isn’t the median - how?
at least not of darkness
so midnight
the whole concept
just doesn’t make sense
The pain is gone,
The pain is gone,
I've finally found a friend,
I can count on.
Actually I haven’t
Decided just yet
How I will
Doom myself today
He's trying to burn his bridges,
when we can see him starting
the fire. He's in denial but still
lights the fire on camera yet
he doesn't forget to smile.

Burn baby burn!

He's working for the devil
five to nine lighting fires
wasting time.

©️ 2023 By Amanda Shelton
Click, click
Scroll, scroll
Light shine in my face
Clock is ticking
As I lie awake

What time is it now?
Doesn’t even matter
The birds will chirp soon
I’ll hear all the clatter

My family waking,
Breakfast will cook
“You’re up early!”
But sleep I never took

Click, click
Scroll, scroll
Tap, tap
Roll, roll

Side to side
I rocked all night
A comfortable spot?
No, not quite.

Time to get up, another restless night.
Will I ever sleep again?
 Jun 3 Lily Barrett
I went out to find
Some value in me,
So I sold what I had
For little a fee.

My eyes for a penny
I sold to some fools,
They're blind and useless,
Mistook for jewels.

My lips for a nickel
To the sweetest sin,
So they'll know the love
That has never been.

My ears for a dime
I sold to a lover.
To hear sweet nothings,
And silence uncover.

My hands for a quarter
I sold to a ghost,
So that she might feel
What I've wanted the most.

Finally my bones for a dollar
I sold to the earth,
But as for my soul-
There was found no worth.
I Will Never Write My Obituary

I bleed before the world
in many different ways,
by rocks and knives
and paper cuts,
sometimes it is blue
sometimes it is red,
every time it feels real,
because it really is.
I bleed before the world,
cutting myself open
that it may read the entrails
through what my poetry says.
But this (upon reflection) is not
what will be written of me
after I have died
and it only concerns me now
while I am still alive.

James E. Roethlein copyright 2020
 Jan 2021 Lily Barrett
Mitch Prax
To this day,
your name
still hurts my tongue
but I still say it anyway.
Sometimes I like to
hear my soul
gently tear itself
As mighty Autumn winds blow, my love is stubbornly valiant,
And trees crash with utmost ease, my love is proudly fearless,
As the cruel Winter snow falls, my love is bravely defiant,
And faunae small and large hide, my love is dauntless.

As Spring floods wreak havoc, my love is storm-proof,
And as desolation follows desolation, my love is so heroic,
As Summer relentlessly burns, my love remains coolly aloof,
And as the licking flames run and run, my love is far too quick.

The seasons readily come and go,
This is heaven’s natural order,
Rain, storm, heat, frost, wind, snow,
For us to watch, marvel and ponder.

Many things prosper and then wither,
But my love – (be it icily cold, in an endless fiery haze,
or Biblical flood, in foul fogs that greedily smother) -
will endure until the end of all days.

© Robert Porteus
A bit sunnier than my last effort This Restless, Unquiet Love.
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