BG: On High, (He/She)  ranting about a new alphabet!

https://hellopoetry.com/poem/2140791/a-poet-wondered/


YOU wrote, He/She read...

down looking to make some trouble,
what he likes to do on weekends,
heard about your poem,
trying to create a new alphabet,
and got mightily ******
(at you)

we have an open IM,
and live crosstown
from each other,
and he/she is kinda shy,
(from gender confusion,)
asked me to relay this to you,
Madame BG Star:

you, who writes a new poem
on the hour, got a *** of nerve,
dissatisfied with the limits
of your tools, should not overly complain!

you got gifted, and use up your allotment
of alpha rearrangements and never get billed,
should be more considerate,
and just
write more.

and then he said something else,
because he always gets the last
word...

you have an affinity for the letter L
it would appear, so here is your punishment,
for the rest of the week
write like a madwoman

but no words that employ this lala sound!

how do you like that my little lollipop ******?

having scored some five and dime bags,
(cannabis legal not, up above)
went home to run the world in his
usual state
of (dis)grace

don't b-ame the messenger,
cause he said over his shoulder as departing
on his fiery chariot,
that applies to you too
u troublemaking

_Eft Foot Poet

Seema, Seema is divine
She dances in her day.
Writing words that are so grand.
Inside the sacred day.

Seema's meant to open heart
She really is a star
Hope she's well to move in dreams
To know just who you are.


written by: Star BG 12/11/17

FIRE! FIRE! BE GONE ****** FIRE, I HATE...

O heavens, I'm sorry... I- hmm. Look, it was only four years and a handful of months ago that we met first. Me taking a thoughtful step from the step of my back door.
That face so delectable and now so distasteful. You broke me, woman, you broke me.
I pondered for so long, the demise of our world. The inevitable freezing of a seemingly indestructible cosmos. The cascade of hellfire from heavens unknown. Oh and the uncivilized beasts from the sky. Wise beyond our years, dangerous in theirs.
You broke me you broke me, ***** of my dreams, you broke me.
Step away from mine, the ****** hands of murderers and devils. Take in yours the safety you dreamed.
For I am but a tyrant in your ethereal presence.
                                                        
These walls close too fast for such a man... I'm no such thing though.
Brother, oh brother quit being dead, incorrigible fool. Rise from your own heaven of concrete and leaden death. Stupid man.
She. She did this. Taking to your arms each night, returning with your scent. WE ARE ANIMALS YOU FOOL! Did you assume..? Never mind.
But still you lay, dead, foolish.
Gasoline, oh gee golly gosh the smell of gasoline. Sweet petroleum of these masters of ours. ExxonMobil, Shell Oil, BP (oh BP you fastidious harlot), BG, Premier and Chevron. I pray you all burn like my dear poor friend/fiend here. I pray to a non-existent God, of course.
Oh sweet embers, the fire, thee fire. *******, the fire. I hate what you have made of me.

A beastly man, bearded and uncouth. My tooth, my tooth.
My tooth it pains me on a daily basis. My gums are that of a ninety year old **** smoker. Black, rotting, stinking. Parallels of my life, I suppose. Teeth,  dreadful, dying, dead, deathlike, decaying, Dickensian, dark, damp, d... d- **** it. Years of poor hygiene, years I focused my full attention on my love, my life, my sweet innocent beautiful flower of the wild world and the wooded wonderland of Whinfell.

Now you have gone, I feel empty. No, I shall cease to make such mistakes in my off handed ramblings. I shall seek my thesaurus...
My dear love, now that you have deserted my soul and destroyed my world and very reason for living. I feel ever so depleted, hollow, cavernous and wanting. Sweet sweet child, I pray to my non-conformist God, that of imagination and speculation. The veritable Frankenstein of philosophical and spiritual distortion; I pray he guides you safely through these stormy nights and past the cliffs of disturbed memories. I pray he holds you close to his chest and reveres your silken thighs without touch.

**** ME, PLEASE GOD ****. ME.
The embers of my kin simmer to a pedestrian crackle. The cackle the cackle, my voice is a cackle and I hate it. Dried remnants and burned ones too. I can't help but smile as I remember running through the fields behind my home, where the thieves and the addicts roamed. Child like fascination of the lurid creatures dwelling within the brothel I called home. Whorish women, my curse, the bane of my something or other. Feeble mind of mine, it continues to let me down. Not too dissimilar to the bunches of balloons that decorated the cars of the local garage, waiting to be sold to prospective family-men and business men and men and men and men. Sweet men. The balloons, of course! I would sit on the deserted field and from a  distance observe the close of trading and the ceremonial cutting of ******* strings that freed the multicolored harlots of the sky, back into the sky. Only to be destroyed by winds, birds, planes, storms and the pressures of the atmosphere. Weak willed *******, the lot of them.

But you dear brother, of no relation. You were kind hearted and I point to where your charred heart lay.
You held me close and called me Elizabeth. Matriarchal dream of mine. You broke the seal of new technology, purchased from store upon the corner.  Multiple windows on my windows, each one a prospective client. You lucky friend, I choose you.
We were madly in lust. Madly in... lust. I cannot bear to bring the 'L' word from my cowardice lips. Lips that pleasure, lips that weave, oh lips you kissed daily. Masculine frame, strong father figure of which I am vacant. Let me lay with you once more, in my pretty dress and high heels. Let me pretend for a day that I am no man. That I, that I am your lady. Let me, let me, please let me sit with my legs crossed and hair dancing in the cool breeze and breath of yours.
Too many years I herd the pleasure through papyrus walls. Mother wailing and cheering for the lord. Grunting and creaking with the pleasure she felt. I enjoyed it so much. For that reason and many others beside, I chose a life.

Life so frail, life so pure
Stepping slowly
From the step of my back door
Closing behind me
and turning the key
I shall be home to you
As your lady.

Please do not govern for I am impure of mind.
Life's little scar ingrained in my skull.
Each and every maddening creature has led me, the narcissist, to this here concrete hell.
In which I shall say my final words,
and breath my final wheezing breath
For I have killed two men and a perfect woman today
And Long may they rest.

BRIAN, YOU ARE STILL A LITTLE SHY BOY, BUDDY




YOU SEE MY DAD CLOSED THE DOOR SAYING

DON’T WORRY ABOUT THE TEASING, BE LIKE ME AND MUMMY

AND WENT BACK IN AND I FOLLOWED DAD AND HE SAID

ARE YOU GETTING TEASED, BRIAN , AND I SAID, I AM TEASING YOU

CAUSE DAD, YOUR NOT LIKE US, YOUR NOT LIKE US, YA NOT LIKE US

I AM A YOUNG DUDE, AND YOU ARE A GRUMPY OLD ****

AND DAD SAID GO TO YOUR ROOM, AND I SAID NEH, I AM STILL COOL, BUDDY

DAD SAID, COOL, WHY DO YA WANT TO BE COOL FOR, BE LIKE ME AND MUMMY

OR A SHY YOUNG DUDE, AND I SAID, YOU ARE FUCKEN SHY, DAD

AND DAD GOT UP AND SAID, GO TO YOUR BLINKEN ROOM YA LITTLE SHY BOY

AND IF WE HAD LOCKS, I WILL LOCK YOU IN, I SAID WHEN YOU DIE

YOU ARE LEARNING ABOUT HOW KIDS OF TODAY ACT

DAD SAID SHUT UP, YOUR STILL A LITTLE SHY BOY

AND RAN TO HIS SEAT, AND I FOLLOWED HIM SAYING, I AM STILL NOT LEAVING YOU ALONE DAD

AND DAD SAID, GO TO YOUR ROOM YA FOOL, YA FOOL

I SAID, HIT ME HERE IN THE FACE DADDY, AND HE SAID OK AND HIT ME SQUARE IN THE FACE

AND TRIED TO RUN TO HIS SEAT, AND I FOLLOWED HIM TO HIS SEAT

SAYING, I WANT TO BE COOL, AND HE SAID COOL WHAT DO YOU WANT TO BE COOL FOR

GO AWAY FOOL, DAD, SAID, AND I STUCK MY FINGER UP AT DAD, AND HE SAID

DON;T GIVE ME THOSE RITCHARD HAND SIGNALS YA FOOL YOU FLAMING FOOL

AND I SHOWED DAD MY FINGER 199 TIMES, MY BROTHER DEFENDED DAD LIKE A MANS KID WOULD

AND I STARTED A BG ARGUMENT WITH DAD SAYING, I WAS TOO COOL FOR THIS FAMILY

HE SAID, GO AWAY YA FOOL, GO AWAY FOOL, GO FOR A WALK, YA NEED TO LET OFF STEAM

I SAID, NEH, I  WANT TO HAVE MY SAY, DAD YOU NEED TO LIGHTEN UP

DAD SAID, GO TO YOUR ROOM, FOOL, GO TO YOUR ROOM, YA FOOL

AND I SAID, ******* AWAY FROM US YOUNG DUDES, BUDDY, YOU ARE AN OLD FUCKEN KODGER

DAD SAID, GO AWAY YA FOOL, AND WENT INTO THE KITCHEN TO WIPE UP

AND I REMEMBER FOLLOWING HIM, SAYING, LISTEN TO ME, DAD I AM NOT YOUR FAVOURITE SON AM IT

HE SAID, NO, NOT IF YOU CARRY ON LIKE THIS YOUR NOT, YOUR A LITTLE SHY BOY, BUDDY

I SAID, DAD I WANT TO STAB YOU IN THE BACK, DAD SAID WHERE’S THE KNIFE

THE BIG THING WAS, WHERE’S THE KNIFE, I DIDN’T WANT TO **** DAD, HE’S FAMILY

I WAS REALLY TEASING LIKE THE COOL YOUNG DUDES DID IN THE 1980s

WHEN DAD FINISHED THAT HE RAN STRAIGHT TO HIS CHAIR

AND I FOLLOWED HIM, SAYING, YOU ARE A STUPID FATHER

HE SAID, GO AWAY FOOL, GO AWAY FOOL, LEAVE ME ALONE BRIAN, I’M A FAMILY MAN

I SAID, I HAVE COOL MATES, I DON’T NEED YOU TO SAY, YOUR LIKE ME AND MUMMY BRIAN EVERY DAY

THEN I SAID I AM COOL, DAD, DAD SAID, COOL, WHAT DO YOU WANT TO BE COOL FOR

WELL, NOW DAD IS DEAD, I GOT MY CHANCE TO TELL DAD THAT I WAS BEING A KID

AND NOW IT’S DAD’S TURN TO BE ONE OF DAVID AND LISA CAMPBELL’S TWINS

PAIRED WITH ROBIN WILLIAMS, THEY ARE JUST LIKE EACH OTHER

DAD, IS SOON TO BE JIMMY BARNES’S  GRANDCHILD WITH ROBIN WILLIAMS

TO JOIN OLGA CHICK

HAPPY NEXT LIFE, DAD

AND LET US DUDES BURN YA OLDIE OFF WITH METHANE, TO IMPROVE YOUR NEXT EARTH BODY

BOBYE BLINKEN DAD, YA FOOL, I AM ONLY JOKING, HA HA HA HA

The work words have to do, I do as well
leaving being as having been begun
ghabh-
also *ghebh-, Proto-Indo-European root meaning
"to give or receive."
The basic sense of the root probably is "to hold,"

Able comes from this, thus
ability  

8 billions, say
- the ob-servant says,
half are breathing in, as half
were breathing out,

certainly a few were out of sync,
so some of us sneezed, one would think
to effect the fectuality, unawares,

stutter steps, bridge march, aware
smell the honey suckle smell, no,
discern a subtle dif-fer tle,lit-tle
bit
literal not sames, similar sense, smell
seeming
how more aware have we all become,
we who lost taste and smell, while
experiencing a pandemic in our time.
Eventually endemic.
How rare are we in history? First wave.
Mindful, some how, now
my taste and smell
systems are back,
on.

Off, again, try to remember the smell,
of linden trees in Helena,
and wonder, set a mind on wish to know
will wonder, the worth of which we know

but fail to consider until… un til, tilling soil,
un
I think, et I'm y conjoined, to reconsider you.

At my bitterest root,
my jealousy and rage,
- alleluia, you know the drill
my will to act like some ancient god.
Cursing all I ever was.
-disconfabulating my own legend… uses
time, in points made.

May I guess we know each word,
writ and read, in this medium sprouted from
science with held from those
limited access faith confirmations, holy secret
ways out of paying for all the idle words,
never taken for the sense intended,
foremost
sense
posited, as a point in time,
we agree, I can, we did

--plea, please explain, make it seem
as real as any dream, we can't handle the truth.
-pointless-
- why carry the weight of knowing
think of nothing
in a word,
yet
not in time/
-- a spirit from the mortals fearing death
lives in this lie, cultural *******, fear of measure,
spit an image, imagine a nation, from dragon's teeth
spat, shat, splat, all the same, fat rain sound.
-- crack of the gavel, give us rapt attention---
order, order in the court, when, in fact,
judgement begins where Jesus says God is,
in his forever state, in me, of we, who
took him at his word, be true, live.
the way
courtesy commands, as judgment begins
in the spirit
of the man,

The right hand ignores the left hand clapping
-present the feeble fable

Discord sown among brothers-
hate the owning fact of life, only one breath,

- listen to the retold old word tale
- endemic demes enforced knowledge
- from **** to last told tale… we are this
- this is epic in each occurrence… we realize
smoked ribbon winds around in
form,
the long winter mind, all hearing ears, feel
from our gut, we obey. We join image-e- nations.

We dare ante-cipitate the motion in the dance.
All public opinion re
arrives at one point. We have no reasons for war,
we are not the users of others, we give, and
have been given unto, in some inexplicable way,

peace in time to rest in it, dabbling in old lies, left
binding cultural ties, as all reason for stiffness wilts

We listen to the Wendigo,
who wound the ******* greedy winding wake,
when the forest was aflame, and the wind had no cloud
that did not poison rain.
- meandering progress, not steam ship progress
sense posed reason aitia, to the t/
spirit and image in the idiom/
sublime

Now, the teller, looks to me, reminds me
of light perceived as punctual, flashing,
aha, waves in passing
understood.
Effectually.
- we stand as one.
- In the ready written mind.

All but he who takes a knee, ala George Washington,
under the leafless tree, in the olden vale.

The point of any thing, is made for, f-word for or fore
before, forsaking, one must make for some sake,
no relationship to four, for some reason, get
as a service, do what you do. Right.
Why would one enabled to do good,
do otherwise?

Ignor the answers you ask for.
Pretend poetry never makes
sense in terms of poetic good, exhaled, relieved,

passing coolness in the air.
- as gentle spirits some say do
Orderly arrangement, left mind, right or most versatile hand,
point at any thing,
bend that finger,
as on a trigger,
we can, we
know not how, we know, we have, we hold certain
positioning words as one mind may, I know,

I just got my smell back.
Like that, but after using your James Webb visualizing augments.
The wheel galaxy, just as imagined… we see

In effect, this is science, this is history,
this is art and language, holding sway,
we all know earth produces on a cycle, right,
greed breeds and brings forth famine,
famine finds us eating our corporations…
Jubilee, reset
-ship, shape, worth-shape, sense make,
peace where war was, one point
at a time.

Hold that thought, this is intended for

an audience, as the Terminal List,
was made to entertain military minds,
mental peace enforcer traits, keepers
of the secret, duty to the concept,..
live free, or die- for no reason,
save the Platonic essential lie.

Peacemakers were not intended,
we want valient warriors, at the core,
not the passive resistors increasing
capacity
to have the whole world sneeze.
And blink,
To sell words redeemed, mercurial recovery,

as from first people stories, branching away,

chaparral, between the salty sea,
and high reaching pine

fishing in a sea of social forgotten schemes/

Self govern, but in these days, not the future,
self govern now, participate in the present,

NPC over sight, non intervention-invention,
installed when you agreed, you watch,
do not rewrite the ending/

So, story being told.
Story being made up to conserve,

serve a certain truth we know, winter comes
some times for too long,

so we consider the ant, and remember Wendigo.

greedy gut, cheater, long time ago, we know,
we all can be the hungered beast.

Wait, and see, some day, we see the peace pass
for understanding, and we wonder into a we,
state of awe, as a we aware, we think

whole worlds and only words, at once.
Making peace from confused principle things.

We can, others have, agree; we are the best/

--------
Welfare, fare thee well, we said

we are as rich as ever was,
but we live a quiet life.

Pressure from some outside source,
begins be gins beginning to squeeze,

and pull and stretch, who needs the show
shown every where,
there, those other people, who own
no means to make a living form we are
reality personality types, all observants
become familiar with,
predicting winners, if it happens

I coulda been a contender, the audience
always know,
just how it feels, to be on your own,
a compleated unknown enfolding old Dylan licks,

Wendigo, there he go,
lickin' his chops, BG words are all I have
to take his breath away,

soft, and gentle/ sub-tility, wait, as sufficient

seed becomes something, never just a seed again,
and then just a seed a million times, in the wind.

-------------
3:55
I've driven myself to reflection
point,
observation con services ob
scene, objects mis directed, rect-
ify, io I mean, finger mover, on demander
I, free, willing, hunting wendigo from fantacy
conforming to hate manifested, abhor evil,
-never rests, never
rest in stranger's peace of mind,
find plain old apples in the tree, free, no fines,
no charge, non sense, an-tic

click onoma-tope -- under all of history, we know,

scribes, alone, found time to write, after reasoning
in the agora all day… ancient minds, WWSD?

--- listen, I am ashamed to beg, so, what does
your tab say, listen, I'm thinking

that's too much, here, take your ledger, wipe the debt.

Clean, no remnant from which revenant wrongs make claim,

first story told was told as lies, intended to deceive.

Knowledge is truth's gift, we live and learn
and pass it on. One point, inevitably crossing now.
And leaving a ripple, no marks

Yet, behind all that, this peace in mind, as a state, mindstate
timespace space time

taken, for granted bequilement does not disconnect,
knowing from known, and proof from pudding,
true rest,
reason for peace taken, in knowing, some body
had to believe, if it feels good, suddenly,
you know, every thing we eat
turns to ****, unless we learn…

that is good. Deal with it.

Nakatingin ako sa mga tala
Iniisip ang mga matatamis na ala-ala
Mga ala-ala nating dalawa
Na kung pwede lang, akin muling madama

Saksi ang mga tala
Saksi, sila kung gaano ako kasaya
Noong panahon na sinabi **** "gusto rin kita"
Puso ko ay tila nabigla

Di ma intindihan kung gaano ako kasaya
Di alam kung anong emosyon ang ipapakita
Bibig ko ay di makapag salita
Puso ay puno ng ligaya

Narinig ng mga tala ang dasal ko para sa iyo,
Mga hiling ko na sana ma pansin mo ako
Na kahit simpleng hi mula sayo
Sapat na para ma kumpleto ang araw ko

Sina salamin mo ang kagandahan ng mga bituin,
Mga ilaw na numiningning
Na sa tuwing ako ay tumitingin
Kagandahan mo ay di kanyang bilangi

Na ka pag narinig ko ang iyong TAWA
Ito'y nagdadala bg ligaya at tuwa
Nagiging musika sa akung tenga
At pang atong sa pagtibok ng aking Puso na sugatan pa

another one for you
.
.
*
kiss me quick
hurry, your kiss is the air
that i breath
kiss me quick
i’ll die if you don’t
kiss me quick
my lungs need to be filled
oh darling, kiss me quick
your kiss is my remedy

read this when you come back
.
.
*kiss me long
kiss me hard
kiss me the one that
will make the stars go down
kiss me soft
kiss me wild
kiss me the one that
will send ecstatic waves to the universe
kiss me sweet
kiss me lust
kiss me the one that
will make this adrenaline rush

Boats float in haze and glass-like field.
Sun hides behind grey filled sky.

And I shall dab my thoughts across a page
as if they’re dancers calling to inner self.

Birds whisper dainty to wake ears.
Dogs back to echo with wind.

A great day to relax inside gratitude.
A grand day to see all is beautiful.

buoys,
a whole other topic
please stop
bringing it up;
grills
so much easier;
feels so safe,
feels so comfort

There are monsters
whispered about by sailors
in tavern fairy tales, through
nervous anecdotes

Speaking about something
will give it life
it will come to you
from the darkest corner
of the Mirror.

You are just another
swallowed sailor
from a ship with loose lips
and burnt candle mirrors

Our story is whispered
by sailors in tavern
fairy tales about the times
when the best that it is
isn’t enough to save yourself

from the darkest corner
of the mirro

BG-4/8/17

Your poems are sunshine themselves
Don't need any sun to throw light!

You are a star yourself
Don't need any star bright!

You uplift the mood with
Your daily positive write!

You enlighten hp with
Your love and light!

The only French I speak,
I learned
from the
uncrossable space
in bed

You.

Me.

I learned it
when we started
to just say bye
in the mornings

When we stopped
hugging after
work,

When I was too busy
playing games,
watching Netflix,
on my phone,

and you had already cleaned
the kitchen, put away the laundry,

You wanted something
you won't take now
because I wasn't too busy and I don't even play that game anymore, and I can't remember the shows but I'm sure they are still on Netflix,
and phones will always be a distraction from people to put everything down and take off the masks
we make so we can breathe
every day and connect as people. In those moments, I started missing you and you were already missing me. I just really wish I could stop going Supernova but there's a slowly swirling marble rock ball that's slowly making its way from sitting in fire of the pits of my stomach,

rolling up my chest, bouncing off ribs, escaping to the small of my back, rolling up my spine, spinning
counter clockwise
in figure eights
across my shoulder blades until it sits over my heart and sinks to my
Stomach
Again.

Now I've lost form and more and I really just need to get my

**** together and restart.

Look at what you've done
to my poetry.

BG-4/10/17

I stand at the doorway to the heart.
The key my deep breath.
Once inside energies tickle
causing a smile to rise on face.
causing sensations warm to enter bloodstreams.

I stand, ready to take off in dance
with my fellow neighbor.
Ready to reconnect to sister, brothers, and animals.

Mother Natures wind blows caressing me.
Birds tickle ears to align with my own song.

And as I move out, I know I am blessed and a blessing.
I arrived home. I am home.

Star BG © 2017

I buried myself in my own body so don't ask me why the words on my lips taste like tombstones or why I wake up in the middle of the night startled as if I can listen to the rattled ache of old bones colliding against one other inside my self because the muscles have decayed off long ago.

2. I have swallowed enough tears and choked on enough words to create a sea inside of me so don't ask me why I walk sometimes as any moment I might collapse under my own weight if you don't know how it feels like to have your organs soak water and later drown in it. Don't tell me pressure gets to you too sometimes if you don't know how it feels to have your insides fight your own skeleton and skin to get out.

3. I sleep a lot or not at all. My sleeping pattern is a perfect symbolism of how I feel things. Either I'm overwhelmed or numbed except no one ever notices cause my lights are always on. My friend once joked that I'm too old to be afraid of monsters. God bless her sweet, innocent heart. She did not need to know that I carry the monster with myself to my bed, that sometimes the monster walks around her wearing my face but guess that's okay. To them I'm a happy girl who likes to write sad poems. As if sadness is a persona I'm trying to adopt cause it's a trend. But ignorance is Bliss. I'm counting on them to always deny that things are worse than they look when the signs are glaring them in the eyes. Their ignorance is not just their Bliss, but my liberty.

4. One of my friend while reading about someone's suicide asks me why would you want to trade all that's out there for an oblivion. I looked her in the eye and told her that it's cause they notice no difference except for the extra pressure that life brings, the constant reminder that you should be out there just doing something.. You know, living the life and all and knowing that you're supposed to want to feel something but you don't, don't want to at all, is tiring. Existing is tiring. Or so they think. It's not like I'd know, I add lamely to differentiate myself from them.

5. I'm always sad but I have never let that prevent me from being happy. It's really sad, and it's really funny that I have never been truly happy and never been truly sad. A hopeful present always brings me a smile, or death. Depends really. And the regretful present is enough to sober me at my happiest moments.

6. Sometimes my days feel like a continued extension of night, my life a silent movie but with the sad bg music where I'm the only character that does not know its role or which scene is going on. Sometimes it feels like I have long exhaled my last breath and my mind has not just caught up to the fact that I might be dead

These verses filled the void;
Contributions from 'round the world;
From men and women, young and old;
Creating something out of nothing.
A prosaic mosaic, a collaboration,
From HP poets, a celebration.

A blank line
Awaits my thoughts
A blank line
It’s an invitation
A blank line
Patiently empty
A blank line
It calls on creativity
A blank line [sic writerunblocked]

To comment on this I cannot resist
The daily poem takes a new twist
At the top slot a poem that's not
A poem that doesn't exist [sic. Martin]

For the life of me -
I cannot think the words -
refilling blanks, and slots -
not coming across, absurd -
at least, not in, so many, words [sic Temporal Fugue]

Farts are nothing,
but previews for ****,
just like most
Movie
trailers
at
the
theatre. [sic Hasani]

Please fill in is the Story of My Life The Invisible lines the Unseen pain I walk among the crowds but I am not there all they see is a shell when the truth of myself is withdrawn deep inside lost between the invisible lines [sic James M. Vines]

When at 12 midnight
And my heart beats a certain pace
I finally turn off the lights
As tears stream down my face [sic jace]

the vacuum
Empty yourself of
From...
What u retain
What u contain
What u detain
What u abstain

Draw the lines of...
Your Boundary
Your territory
Your trajectory
Your sanctuary

You....
Draw your lines of action
Define your confinement
Create your vaccum

And now....
The love flows in
The bliss moves in
The happiness gushes in [Jugnu-the-firefly]

THESE underscores from a your keyboard--
Bored-as-hell I can see
The creative act has been forced-in
This outsourced work, taking our
Outsourced words, during work-hours [sic Sean Murray]

Lines
Lines Blank call
like void of creation to birth.
They grab my attention
luring poet mind
to commence firing away.
It fires in blasts of gratitude,
jarring empty spaces of thoughts
Phases that have no connections
until pen touches paper
or fingers touch keyboard.
Until I shout out to another writer
named Francie who inspired
to fill the void.[sic Star BG]

i would have described my frustrations
what i expect from u
but i decide to keep my lips shut
its not what it seems
sometimes my lips cant depict my problems........ [sic Gucco]

It's a new year, yet are we, new people
although many others have been extinguished,
my star still shines and twinkles (although not as valiantly)
and so does yours
and I pray that it may twinkle,
for the longest time indeed. [sic sincere humble cowardly Song]

Words can be over-rated,
its the blank page that often inspires,
images tumbling over themselves,
waiting to be scribed by word-squires. [sic Pagan Paul]

Like this goose of a poem I'm holdin'
The deliberate silence of this is golden

Now don't be cheap
and don't be crass

hold your words until the last
without donkey ears your still being an a... [sic Green Trees]

The symmetry of her eyes collapsed into the void............
....sixteen teardrops spilled on the morning sky............
............Colorless and absurd............................
............the sunrise misplaces past happiness............
Future was you [sic Kyte]

Your poem is good but mine is better
You should feel the poem, writing doesn't matter [sic Daman Singh]

I do nothing
Others do it for me [sic Dennis Faulk]

To all the confusing things that roam my head and heart that I cannot read what it’s actually telling me. [sic Sara]

The eyes sees genuineness that mind yearns
The heart feels what it needs to learn,
Yet all is but God's ultimate plan!
Life amidst it's hustsles goes on and on. [sic Saumya]

Broken Chains
Free me,break these chains of *******
Chains that bound and confine me to rules
Shackles that control me against my will
Fetters that make me submit to emotions
Irons that make me less humane,free me
Till all that's left are broken chains. [sic Abi]

Feelings so fierce as they swarm inside
No escape as theyey spin and spin
I try to open a door
To let them out
At last, the page is blank [sic Lin]

light for sure
shy of ardor
less is more
why try harder? [Ian Woods]

And thus the blankness left,
And the void was filled.

I.
You always knew
the lies I've taught myself to believe
would never be good enough for him

We have the same smile
he is the last angel that can save
me

Love, I have no easy answers for you
I bury questions with every poem
but there is never enough dirt.

The ugliness behind our
pretty faces

burns holes
in the soul

and that's the first poem
I wrote about you that
wish I could burn
because I see myself
in your eyes and I wish
I could disappear from
the mirror

I don't
hate you.

I can't.

I
won't.

II.
my sweet Ollie,

your face looks like mine
you can see it in the eyes
especially when you smile

Have you discovered
children have a way
of noticing things
that are there,

seeing shapes
and shadows
that aren't?

There are monsters in the dark
but do not be afraid
I am there too.

I thought I
past the would,
could, should be

but there are no stars
in the sky and these
gnarled branches
won't give me release

and the future is the same as it always was

some things
cannot be hidden
cannot be undone
cannot be found
cannot be repaired

If I could still believe
in God and say a prayer
I would ask that he would read
these words you can't see yet

whisper them into your ear
so that with every heart beat
you have an answer for why we're
here

and one day
when you read this

know that I loved you
know that I missed you

There is still sunshine longing
to kiss your forehead

Don't sleep
until the day
is yours
and only yours.

My son, trust me
when I tell you,
there is nothing to fear
in the dark.

Fear the Heart.

BG-4/11/17

STAR BG is our BIG STAR
Shining light, that goes so far
Helping writers that are lost
East to West,
Beyond the coast.

With a big heart, that is whole
Guiding post, that is her role
Charming souls to rock and roll
With great poems
That joy, utmost!

And kind messages
Reaching all
Encourage us,
And make us boast.

Kind words, so precious
They don’t cost
Yet do they matter
To us most!

the radio is
broken again
and this time
is the last time

Your songs no longer
fight the static.

the crunchy hiss
the empty stutter
between pops

crackling cackles,
unplugged from the wall
still playing the song
of something ending
into a new beginning

Your songs no longer
fight the static

but I still hum
them to myself

at the edge
of our universe

BG-4/8/17

I don't want a job.
NO.
Like money can stop interfering with me.
I rather would not work for a living,
But I wanna draw and color the world in pictures of it's own discourse and make my world a piece of mastery one can admire,
But I'm stuck between a rock and a hard place to make the payments on apartments and college tuition that keeps rising,
And my knee hurts and I don't wanna deal with customers,
There made of fire and ice, willing to burn me or quick to give a cold and uneasy shoulder,
It's not at all fun,
I just wanna swim all day and think of life,
My mind is full of mystical mysteries to which I have yet to discover,
People to meet and pictures to create,
Something I haven't had any time to do, And I feel like a stump,
Broken and cut down in it's good prime of life,
I'm weaken by the roots,
Discolored and suffering with grief,
Who am I? What is my job and who am I to be,
should I live in BG, or should I make my own path without professors and lessons and a degree that will make me so indented and wittle my brain to complete nothing,
with all that coffee,
I'm so stressed with the complexities and anxieties that life seems to throw at me, envying my sister for her talents in photography,
And what do i have?
nothing but a smile to give guys who treat me nice for awhile then leave,
i guess I am a nothing but a face,
I can draw,
Sometimes, lately it's been in vain and I feel nothing,

If my tongue were a pen
every word would be a postmarked
love letter to your ears.

If my tongue were a pen
my words wouldn’t have
cut so deeply and left you
with coupons you’ll never

use and bills that are past
due.

The page is my playground.

My Church.
My Sanctuary.
My Womb,

Our eyes are doorways to
the secrets that make us
who we are

This dark haired face with three
day scruff and glasses is a
single sentence out of context,

and our chapter isn’t finished.

I am fishing on a lake
at five years old.
passing my driving test,
graduating high school,

I am both an old soul
who
lived too much
too young,
and a child reaching
for candles
in the darkness.

If my tongue were a pen,
my darling,

my soul
would slide its fingers
through your eyeballs

and bury itself in
the deepest recesses
of your heart

If my tongue were a pen
instead of picking up all the
bad memories of this apartment
with piles of ***** clothes,

you would
find the words and phrases
we phased out of our lives for a forgotten
reason at the end
of an empty bottle night.

I am moving to a new city at 25,
becoming a Father.
Invisible to my child.
A Stranger.

I am meeting you for the first time,
we are children holding hands
in the darkness
We were children jumping from
swings,
We were the children
who knew just enough

We told each other all our secrets
We shut doors
We blew out candles

if my tongue were a pen
My darling,

it would tell you
we are not a mistake.

we are a
collection
of unfortunate
accidents
that became
something
beautiful.

Turn the Page.

BG-4/10/17

the chill of winter winds left with the Spring, I still feel the gusts in my bones,
I see our ghosts trapped in the trees

This forest is never blessed with the stars, The Darkness is the only thing complete, The Moon shivers, consumed by clouds

I strike black stones, but can't get them to bleed,
Your fading ghosts whisper, "Come back to me."

BG-4/9/17