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 Jan 2021 Veritia Venandi
telumne
hurt me
and i dont mind

calloused hands
a scrape of teeth
a cutting word
a cutting eye
a push
a bruise
rough nails

hurt me
and i dont mind
Run for cover?   
 mutant is at your heel   
 it has no colour   
 your peace it will steal


      this is the  Doom -Era   
    to fate we must yield     
    hope the jab knows no error 
   courage is not a reliable shield
Your ashes don't speak to me Dad;
they float silent in the ocean.
I need you.
I have questions about
Don Quixote and Steinbeck.
You implanted in me a
love for literature,
and then left me before
the story was supposed to end.

What is the theme?
This plot *****!
I inherited your anger.
I think of you when
I punch the wall and
scream at my wife-
spider web windshields.

I cry through Man of La Mancha,
and laugh at the memory of the
stage you built us in the basement.
Who does that?
Props and scripts were our toys.
I acted and lied my way through my
first two marriages- always on.

You were the great director;
all your trophies are on the mantle.
You thought the pizza place turned
the volume down on the T.V when
your speaking parts came on.

I think you passed me your insanity.
I've been to the nuthouse many times.
I'm a poet Dad, two books published.
I still remember you reading
Kipling and Cummings to me.

In third grade, I read from
Of Mice and Men to my class.
The teacher scolded me for
saying, "Jesus Christ' and "*******."
What a peasant!
She missed the bigger picture;
life doesn't go as planned.
 Jan 2021 Veritia Venandi
nivek
Refugee on the road, banished from Eden
lookup from your troubles and see your fellows,
Brothers and Sisters all, travelling the road with you.
Confined within rusty iron bars
Grounded eternally to hop and trip
Wishing to fly into Heaven’s starry bower
A bird beats her wings in vain
Voicing her anguish in tremulous trills

There is hunger at every tip of her feather
To fly and flutter through the pathless air,
Piping melodious tunes to drown the earth,
Seeing lands never eyed by anyone before

Nursing her dreams, she beats her wings again
To reach a place where the soul sings
Alas! The clamor of her beating resounds
And she falls asleep exhausted!

In her sleep, her desires limp back
She dreams of shooting into higher altitudes
Becoming a speck among fleecy clouds

As these scenes crowd her vision,
Sculpting sweet images,
She beats her wings again
To feel tired and feeling tired to fall asleep
And in sleep to dream again.....!
Inside you

is where I want to

be,

thrusting

within the folds

of your mind

penetrating

the sweet softness

of your soul,

throbbing

as I release my love

deep within you.
                                     Jon York   2019.
 Jan 2021 Veritia Venandi
Serena
When I sit down in front of the mirror,
deal a hand,
(once for me, once for me)
I find my opponent’s face to be unreadable.
And I win,
(I do every time we play)
And I throw my cards down in front of me
taking back the chips I’d raised.
Again, I face the loser
surprised by the bitterness on their face
(though I really should expect it by now)
And this time I wonder:
is it worth winning
if you always lose?
like the moon
I go through

phases

some of my
lights go out

and I become
dull and distant

give me time
they will come

back on

like the moon
I do not ask

for praise or
forgiveness

it is just a
phase

I am going through
i wanted to believe you
with all my heart
i wanted it to be true
when you said there was no one else
but a part of me always knew
there was always someone else
standing between me and you
If I learned something from my last relationship, it would be to listen to your gut more.
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