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129 · Mar 2021
Undusted answers
TheConcretePoet Mar 2021
Life is a puzzle never meant to be completed

Our lives are never born to be forgotten - deleted

Memories may carry the weight of pain through a torrential rain

But they also carry the love of those loved we have forever gained
129 · Feb 2020
Impactful 5 word poetry
129 · Nov 2019
irony's love?
TheConcretePoet Nov 2019
my crutch,
it got me
once again
this week.

the pain
left for
a day but,
at the bottom
of those
bottles were not
the answers
that I seek.

the one
person that
I feel could
relate,
could understand...

they'd rather
be angry
without
understanding
that,

I am just
a man.

the years of
torment that
I was put
through without
making them
feel like a
monster of
some kind

but whatever,
I have come
to accept my
unhappiness
and simply endure
this life until
God tells me
to leave it
behind.

I have never
run away
from
responsibility
of any kind

I go to work,
I pay my bills,
I stumble
sometimes.

I'm just
a man....

I wish...
eh,
maybe I
don't care
if you
understand.

What will be
will be

and one day
soon I hope,
of all of this
wretched life....
I will soon
be free.

Eventual
happiness
does await
me...

with Jesus and
nary a soul
to judge me.

out...
and
free,

at long last,
alee.
128 · Feb 2020
10 word
TheConcretePoet Feb 2020
be a beacon
in the storm

not the
storm itself.
🇺🇸
128 · Dec 2019
David the giant slayer
TheConcretePoet Dec 2019
i am
  David
and i
  slay giants.

you there,
  in the
shadows,
   David
does not
     fear you.

to the
  contrary,
David is
  waiting to
slay you too.

one by one
  the
   long line
begins to
   wane.

your fleece
  was
no match
    for my
  ornamental
mane.

as David
   lives on,
he waits for
  false giants
to try and
  hinder
his way.

felling
  each giant
to wallow
  in pain.


'Yours and everyone's concrete poet'
127 · Mar 2021
living in limbo
TheConcretePoet Mar 2021
expiration date
unknown-
since last July
anticipation
has grown-
test after
test my
cardiologist
prescribes-
my heart
is literally
broken is how
she describes-
every day
i wake up
is a gift
from my
heart-
praising Jesus
is now how
every morning
does start-
127 · Sep 2019
Sometimes when it rains
TheConcretePoet Sep 2019
Sometimes when it rains,
every step you take feels as if you are
stumbling through the darkest night.

A night with a thousand eyes watching you.
Watching you ***** for light.

Watching you undermine yourself even
in your brightest moments, with little energy to fight.

Sometimes when it rains,
perch yourself in front of a window.
Watch each drop of rain cascade
dramatically down your window pane.

Watch as a battered bird shakes it feathers,
takes off in flight and in awe you raise a brow.

Sometimes when it rains,
lovingly, acceptingly step out into the downpour.

Allow these tears from heaven to saturate every crevice, every part that makes you, you.

Just standing idle, arms stretched out open palmed, your mind takes off into a different place,
you see a brightly lit, open door.

Behind the door a rainbow,
a warming sun to dry your pain,
a meadow of amazing life and beauty,
enough to make a beaten down saddened man grin and smile ....a man that once so blue.

Listening, watching and feeling the rain has a way of spawning a divine inner peace.

It can wash away the stains of sadness and also allow you to hide one last cry from the world.

Sometimes when it rains no umbrella is needed.
126 · Sep 2019
Untitled
TheConcretePoet Sep 2019
"Synergy"

The synergy of life and death often destroys my soul's calmness of being.

Mind you, factually,
it is not my own death,
nor my own mortality that stirs
bewilderment and melancholy within me.

It is the road ****,
the spider on your wall.

The baby bird that has fallen from its nest.

The ant in the path of your rapid gait on the sidewalk.

The meat that I selfishly indulge upon.

The innocent murdered,
aborted children.

The sea life that mysteriously washes up upon our shores.

My dilemma?

I genuinely take it personal that I can not save any and all.

Is this a Jesus Christ complex?

I'm not sure what it is!

What I know is that every day of my existence,  
I torture my own soul for not comforting a dying soul.

This IS a genuine emotion that lives within this man's soul.

I mean, I am so[ooooooo] flawed and imperfect - a natural born sinner.

But alas,
I am the soul that only wants to share smiles, hugs and my unconditional love with those that not tread upon evil.

I stand and kneeling confused, in front of my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ with all due respect about the synergy of life and death.

I say that I am tired of torturing myself over this part of life that I absorb ever so deeply every waking moment of my life but....

if tomorrow is given?
Tomorrow I shall take and live.

Albeit wounded,  yes!

But perhaps like these words, Jesus wants me here to move friend or foe.

"EoP"
126 · Sep 2019
Heaven
TheConcretePoet Sep 2019
She wore a;

Tight-thin- t-shirt bra-less with white sculpted leggings...

I couldn't catch my breath!

I couldn't un-race my heart.


Intentionally, she burns a fire long out of control.

Any woman that I encounter bares her face.

And her fire may burn forever longing for my hose to extinguish the flames.
125 · Mar 2021
Cloaking
TheConcretePoet Mar 2021
I live
and hide
behind,
and inside
the words
of my
poetry.

I'm only
seen when
I want
to be
seen.
125 · Nov 2019
galaxias
TheConcretePoet Nov 2019
you are
  one star
and i
  am another
      star...

and yet,

   through all
of the
  stellar remnants,

interstellar gas,
   dust,

and dark matter
  in this here
galaxy,

  
  your gravitational
     pull has
never been
   equaled.
125 · Apr 2020
Niagara River virus days
TheConcretePoet Apr 2020
In days
of
high anxiety
like these.

Days of
awakening
fresh and,
wiping
the sleep
from the
corner of
our eyes
to only
find that
the nightmare
is reality.

It's then that
I toss my
satin sheets
aside that are hugging my
naked body
and its
"morning wood";

rush
a shower
and throw
some coffee
upon my
inner spirit
animal
with a roar...

It's then that,

I always
find that I
lead myself
down by
the mighty
Niagara river.

It's here by
the mighty
Niagara river
that ...

my life
rides each
wave that
crashes up
against
the shore.

And...

The larger
the boat,
the bigger
the wave
that seeps
inside these
older bones.

The more
brilliant a
blue the sky.

The brighter
that the
yellow orb
shines,

The more diamonds that
shimmer atop
the mighty
Niagara river....?

The quicker that
my anxiety
yields to
the idea of....

"just another day",

which;

we all
it is not.
125 · Sep 2019
Untitled
TheConcretePoet Sep 2019
Violently sensual, the jackal
in lustful greed
stalked his lover
in the air of ebon skies,
her legs as long as a gazelle.
the pack he left
to devour this beauty solo.
salivating are his jackal taste buds.
opportunistic and profoundly proficient is this jackal of the night.
125 · Feb 2021
distant love affair
TheConcretePoet Feb 2021
the sky
and the
ocean
only ever
meet
at the
horizon's
line

a top
and bottom
riddle
solved-
in the
middle
TheConcretePoet Oct 2019
In days of youth's yore;

to conquer while
striking a
winning pose
may have been  the
breath of life for many
a young man.

"I love you",
assertively whispered from
her moist and
fevered lips was,
a call of the wild
and a vindication
of one's manhood.

Her legs wrapped tightly around you,
like a spider that is spinning its silken
masterpiece around its paralyzed prey.

Regaining our breath together
as our sweaty bodies glisten in the light of
an August's 2am moon.

A beauty that I  never wanted to conquer but one, that I just wanted to savor and to...

never forget.

Was it love?
Is it love?
Is this love?

Forgive me for a moment but, about this?
I am just...

*white flagging it
124 · Sep 2019
Untitled
TheConcretePoet Sep 2019
I write most times just to,
allow myself
outside of
myself
124 · Feb 2020
5 word poetry
TheConcretePoet Feb 2020
every
rose
lives
with
thorns
124 · May 2020
a poets thoughts #1
TheConcretePoet May 2020
spare me the
painted face
of liability.

make love
to me with
the face
you were born,
naturally.


'Yours and everyone's concrete poet'
-👷🏻‍♂️-
123 · Dec 2019
Christmas nausea
TheConcretePoet Dec 2019
now,

now for
one day,

just about
everyone
  puts on
a disguise.

a mask,

  a Christmas
mask.

it literally
   makes me
sick to
   my stomach.

folks
more fake,
  than a
$3 bill.

  "merry
Christmas"
   they exclaim
through their
mask.

  
   me?

i'd rather
see your
   real face.

like the one
  i'm sure
to see the
   day after
Christmas.

spare me
  the clichèd
greetings that
  are purely
robotic and
  to be blunt,
....
  nauseating.

sweet Jesus
  brace me
  because soon
after this,

the
   "happy
new year"
  defecation
is next.

the
  "new year -
new me"
  prevaricators.

  the
resolution
   makers
that make me
   wanna puke.

wanna be
   different?

  make a
resolution
   and keep
it to
   yourself....
thanks.
look around, they're all around you, everywhere.
123 · Nov 2019
a taste of country
TheConcretePoet Nov 2019
there she was
  sitting in
her long  
  brunette hair

and that
   *******
fitting dress
    left me
gasping
    for air.

silhouette
   on fire
as she
    teases the
moon light

her curves
  have got
me hungry
   for one
helluva night.

  she hopped
up on my
  pickup
and then
  she's dropping
my tailgate

i knew to
  hop on up
'cause this
  lovin' just
can't wait.
123 · Jan 2020
are you ready?
TheConcretePoet Jan 2020
the heaven's rain turned into funeral black -

the earth opened up beneath our feet -

the winds shared whispers of imminent death -

the rain ignores the fire in the sky above -

the abundant smell of iron wafts -

the sight of flowing scarlet red is everywhere -

the trumpets heard are sonic booms -

there is no place to run -

the souls of evil greedily pull at me below my feet -

the feathers of angels brush past my nose -

the time has ceased, weightless i become -

the end is here -

are you ready ?
123 · Mar 2021
ly
TheConcretePoet Mar 2021
ly
internally-
we all live
eternally

externally-
we all live
momentarily

individually-
we all live
exclusively

live wisely-
so that
eternally
eases gradually
and not
suddenly

i say this
of course-
lovingly
Most of us, are our own harshest critics.
You are a special and unique creation of all that is great.
We all fall short in expectations of ourselves sometimes.
But just know that it happens to all of us, not just you.
If there is one thing that we all have in common?
We are all absolutely perfect at being imperfect.
You are not alone.💕

You are only defeated when internally you have given up and in.

Strength to overcome is in the soil of our own root system.
It may be over watered at times with tears of anxiety or angst.
But that will only preserve our soil for when we are dry and saharan.

Life teaches us new things every day without fail.
Learn and grow from our lessons every day.

Age is just a number.
It is a healthy state of mind - a remembrance of a sage collection of life's lessons.

Have a one of a kind day in the most unique and best possible way.
Love thy neighbor for we know not what troubles them.
💕
122 · Mar 2021
Struggle
TheConcretePoet Mar 2021
We all struggle with variations of the word struggle.

Don't ever feel like you are alone, because you aren't.

Strength is built upon our struggles.

Callous strength eventually heals over our open wounds and scars.

We begin standing upon a foundation of strength in understanding.

A strength in understanding that life's clock is the slickest thief we will ever meet.

A strength in understanding that life's clock is also our heart's greatest healer.
122 · Nov 2019
remnants of pure
TheConcretePoet Nov 2019
pure,
budded
and
unopened.

snow
kissed
tongues
with
white
icy
wh­ispers.

bonfires
of
scented
cinnamon
sticks
and
apple
rinds.

eskimo
kisses
nestled
in tightly
wrapped
arms.

logs on
the fire
glow against
the
bronzy
autumn'd
sunset.

dripping
from the
weathered
eaves....

the remnants
of
what's pure.
120 · Sep 2019
Untitled
TheConcretePoet Sep 2019
From the wind it fell
Across my nose that I knew so well

Hints of warm apples and spice
Surrounding me not just once - but twice

An orangish hue now crossed my eyes
There on the steps is where the pumpkin lies

Crunching sounds with every step
Under my feet where fallen leaves slept

Hot chocolate steams the children's noses
Autumn is here as Summer finally closes

Football on Sunday, the kids back in school
Sauce on the stove - I need to be a rule

Shoveling snow before long - this I know
Stealing a kiss from your love under mistletoe

A Winter wonderland is the cozy I adore
In just a few months I will cozy once more
120 · Mar 2020
A poem and some grey hair
TheConcretePoet Mar 2020
I'm now just an old and brittle guy-
A slow deliberate gait when once I used to fly-
In the rear view mirror I wave at my youth-
Fifty-three this year, growing long in the tooth-
I can no longer portray a man made of steel-
Cause' unoiled and rusty is the way that I feel-
Acceptance of this reality, was my toughest fight yet-
I lived a life hopefully that I soon will never forget.
120 · Nov 2020
Intrinsic partnership
TheConcretePoet Nov 2020
Poetic
  verse
is
     intrinsically
partnered
      with my
-heart
-soul
-mind
-body.

Something
    most
humans
     could
never
       comprehend.

Poets are
    rogue waves
in that
   exact moment
of time
   when life
has become
      a
stagnant
       puddle.

We poets
  are the
      storm raged
rogue wave
  not that
you ask for
     but that
everyone
      needs
from
  time to
time.

    Poets
travel alone
        like
rogue waves
   because
alone they
  can fulfill
and easily
   satisfy
their every
      need.

Poets
     need not
you.

   But most
need
     a poet.

In a crowd
  we do not
seek to
  stand out;
     quite the
contrary.

Alone time
  with
     a poet
is what
  it's all about.

Every calm
    needs a
storm.

   Every puddle
needs a
  rogue wave.

You're
   no different.

Poets are
  the heavy sighs
of intrinsic
     partnerships.

A deep
   and complete
relationship.

'Yours and everyone's concrete poet'
👷🏻‍♂️👷🏿‍♂️
119 · Feb 2021
Queer and predictable
TheConcretePoet Feb 2021
Creatures of habit we are -

We all live in moments -

The freshest moments are what we preach -

until the next moment...
119 · Feb 2020
5 word poetry
TheConcretePoet Feb 2020
thunderstorms
are
why
i
live
Mmmmm
mmmm
mmm.
118 · Feb 2021
miscellaneous thoughts
TheConcretePoet Feb 2021
it was february 4th when i
drove by
their home
and;
their Christmas
decorations were still up.

I just looked- smiled - and drove away.
TheConcretePoet Mar 2021
Life's hammer sure can shatter the strongest of heart.
Picking up those pieces one by one is when survival literally starts.
Our hearts are meant to be ko'd and broken.
If not, many sad songs just would never be spoken.
117 · Nov 2019
goodnight moon = you
TheConcretePoet Nov 2019
as
starlight
rains
upon
me,

i
reach
for
handpicked
memories.

the
talcum
powder
moon
rubs
my
eyes,

ocea­ns,
their
waves
cresting
tsunamic
our
galaxy's
disguise.

its
beauty
hides
behind
the
stardust,

its
attraction
lures
mouth
agape
lust.

meteor
showers
are
a
cosmic
******,

the
moon
falls
asleep
with
a
few
soft
notes
from
a sax.
116 · Dec 2019
sage words
TheConcretePoet Dec 2019
so yes,

  it is indeed
    going
to be a
  new year,
new decade.

but;

  what oh what
in this life
   has pushed you
to fade?

  please don't
blame others
  when you alone
choose your fate.

slow your
  life down,
be rid of
    the haste.

a new decade,
  a new year
and you
  still will not
blame you.

  keep lying
to yourself and
  unhappiness
will continue
   sticking
to you
     like glue.

listen y'all:

  you don't need
a new year
    or decade
to change whom
  you wish
to be.

a change
  in year
means nothing
  if you put
asterisks on
   your conditions
of being free.
116 · Dec 2019
alone-we poets are oceans
TheConcretePoet Dec 2019
a poet is
not selfish
although we
love the quiet
of being alone.

any kind of
silence is a
prescription
to let our
tortured minds
graze and roam.

by oceans
of foam or
the hush being
played by a
clock's tick tock
in our home.

us poets
being alone
in our silence
will always
produce a
plethora of
poems.

by the time
i grasp my
last breath
i will have
created a
large heavy
  scholarly
book... .. .

..a tome.

'Yours and everyone's concrete-poet'
115 · Feb 2020
12 word - mean streets
TheConcretePoet Feb 2020
his blood
ran into
the gutter
that was
no stranger
to blood.
115 · Jan 2021
🤷🏻‍♂️
TheConcretePoet Jan 2021
okay;
now i see,

now i see
how this
place works.

it's not about;
the 'poetry'
you see
but rather,

behind
how many
other 'poets'
you lurk.

'Yours and everyone's concrete poet'
👷🏻‍♂️
TheConcretePoet Nov 2020
poets share their hearts and souls with all-

vastly
underappreciated ;

they try
swimming up from
the anchor
that ties them
to the ocean floor
just to break
the water's surface
and to

B r e a t h e.

but most sit by
on the shore
and watch
poets

~~~~~~~~~~~
    d°
        °
         °
       r°
          o°

        °
          °
       w°
         °
           °
          n°__________

'Yours and everyone's concrete poet'
👷🏻‍♂️👷🏿‍♂️
115 · Feb 2021
drowning
TheConcretePoet Feb 2021
metaphorically
drowning,

right in the
view of some.

they all just-

sit there
and watch.

splash....
splash...
splash..

gurgle
    gurgle°
       ­          °
                °

they just sit-

and watch.

well;

it's time to dry myself off.

breach the
surface.....

take a deep
cleansing
breath and
metaphorically
drown
them now.

and
as their air
bubbles breach
the surface-

~~~~~~
°
  °
°
     °
      °

i'll just
sit there
and watch
them drown
now.
https://youtu.be/XylUaPNLfiE
114 · Feb 2020
forever
TheConcretePoet Feb 2020
the pictures
of her
may have been
still photos
but,
they always
moved me
emotionally.
113 · Feb 2020
Red ink - edit that
TheConcretePoet Feb 2020
If I ran out
of ink?

I would write
my poetry
in my blood.

Cause,

I pull muses
through my
home's walls.

I pull muses
from a
quiet room,
the stale air.

I pull muses
through my
television screen,
from the lyrics
of song.

I pull muses
from everywhere
and
everything.

So,
I need ink.

Let's just hope that
I never run out
of ink.
113 · Dec 2019
lol
TheConcretePoet Dec 2019
lol
i'll never use
the phrase
'lol'.
it's just not
in me to be
one of
the crowd.

i'd rather use
the phrase
haha.
that lol stuff
reminds me
of sheep in
the meadow....
baaaa...baaaaaa

not trying
to be cruel,
just always
being me.
but,
lol reminds me
of exclamations
at a child's
birthday party.

ever since
the rage took
hold i went
the other way.
i'll never
conform,
i simply was
never raised
that way.

i know that
most of you
think it's all
just too
darned cutsie.
just like
all of those
regurgitated
"refried memes".

i'm the man
that will
always stand
away from
the crowd,
alone if
i must.
unlike you
all bound
together,
i will never
rust.
and in myself
i thoroughly,
wholeheartedly
trust.

why in
God's name
would I want
to be
the "in crowd"
or
like you?
naw,
no thanks,
you
people can
sell yourself
while to me....

I always
remain true.
113 · Nov 2019
whispers can be chains
TheConcretePoet Nov 2019
sure,
  i've been
a fool
  before

but your
  whispers
in the dark
  will never
fool me
  again
113 · Feb 2021
Climactic storm (tanka)
TheConcretePoet Feb 2021
the storm of all storms-

she was summer heat lightning-

our sweat was love's end-

her sweat was my kindá rain-

sweet dripping drops of ******-
112 · Feb 2021
the good ol' days
TheConcretePoet Feb 2021
i remember when-

i enjoyed
chocolate chip
pancakes when
my doctor
allowed it

smothered in
2 pats of real butter
and drowned
in maple syrup

now?

after my doctor
took all of my fun away

now i sit here
with my dry
whole wheat
toast and a
cup of decaf

while dreaming of
chocolate chip pancakes with 4 pats of real butter and dressed in a life preserver so not to drown in a quart of maple syrup

Who am I kidding?

with a side of salty pork sausage and bacon

i'd eat my own foot if it were fried in butter and wrapped in bacon
112 · Mar 2021
Untitled
TheConcretePoet Mar 2021
tonight's
gentle air
left me
feeling
nostalgic

yesterday's
emotions with
hint of
pure magic

streetlights
casting
shadows
of what was
once
just there

a breeze
that brings a
memory of her
aromatic hair
111 · Oct 2019
because she is her
TheConcretePoet Oct 2019
i love her because
  she is frail
yet,
    mighty like a
mooring against
  a hurricane's wind.

i love her because
  she can finish
my spoken
sentences with an
exclamation point
  at the end.

i love her because
  she is beautiful
yet,
   never acts as if
she were.

i love her because
  she's a simple woman so faithful, honest
   and pure.

i love her because
   after church,
she's
  my sauce on
    an autumn's sunday.

i love her because
  she's
the one that i want
  by my side
as the sun fades.

i love her because
  heh...
    they don't make
many of her.

i am her drink,
  and she is -

the straw that stirs.
111 · Nov 2019
scorched & saturated sheets
TheConcretePoet Nov 2019
when you
insert fire
into fire... .
it
only intensifies

heavy
oxygen in
the air
feeds the
burning

the heat
and smoke
arrest their
hearts

monolithic
bodies
melted... .
exhausted

all cooled
down with
a spasmic
hosing
111 · Sep 2019
My life - part 1
TheConcretePoet Sep 2019
"My life -part 1"( I told my readers that this was coming)This is poetry about my life.
There will be many parts to this piece of work.
I AM a loner for many reasons.
But I am a courteous, loving, a very respectful loner.
My fight for life before I was even 1 hour old forever instilled inside me, my loner mentality.
When I fight for something, I fight with everything that God supplied me.
I am often misunderstood but hey, that only propels me deeper into my loner personality.
What's underneath my motives, my skin?
From nearly being born dead at birth, I fight for everything from deeply within.
It's what makes me, me.
Something most of you hold against me.
But if you understood...
I am art in human form, in word, in emotion and ****.

==============
So;
before I was born, I guess that my Dad was cheating on my Mother with another woman or, so I have been told.

This affected my Mother's pregnancy while she was carrying me, putting both of our lives on hold.

Eventually I was born into an unstable world by a woman in distress.

I was born blue and barely breathing, nearly dead and my life before it began, was already a mess.

The "doctors" working hard to save me, but to save me from what?

A life that I have made the most of but the world around me makes me loathe so much!
110 · Dec 2019
harnessed resentment
TheConcretePoet Dec 2019
precious time
  was stolen
from me
  with someone
that i loved
  very much.

stolen
  from me
by someone
  who's time
  together,
i don't deem
  "precious"
at all.

he's gone.

while they're
still here.

   which,
only
angers me,
    pushes me
to resent
  more.

the irony
  of which
i write this
  with is
    literally
maddening.

  there's no
jeckyll,
   there's no
hyde.

there's my
  reality
not
  schizophrenia.

i know what
  i lived
and i know
  what is
too hard
    to forget.

   that knife
has gone through
  my chest,
through my heart
  and out
my back far
  too many times
to count.

resentful is
  a modest word
in exclamation
  of my feelings.

apologies
  be ******.
there is no right
  for the wrong
that i am
forced to
  have live
     within me,
  day after day
after night
   after night.

thanks for
  the memories
that murdered
  my soul
long long ago.

i'll be
  hard pressed
to find a
  tear for you.

perhaps
  forgiven,
perhaps.

   but never
forgotten.
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