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"boldface" poems
Twas the night before Hawaii islands on the radar A monster opened the door It shoulders a storied scar Of the last time, it hit its mark Rearing its ugly head, ahead of pace As the eye looms '82 in the dark Wrinkles on this  eve sit sadly in boldface Kauai sat once in unnatured infamy It sunny shores hit once by the beast Clouds of villains played in that symphony With the next generation looking to feast As the residence brace for the worst Of the monster stepping on its paradise With category four winds and cloudburst The hope is that the monster plays nice With the Aloha Spirit preserved with leis In place of bold headlines of strung wrath Hawaii can pray rays of light in the coming days Willing the monster to take a different path Logan Robertson 8/23/2018
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Aug 23, 2018
Aug 23, 2018 at 7:04 AM UTC
Hurricane Lane Please Rid Your Ugly Head
What oozes out (between the lines) the scent of shaving, your lean leg, those dancing eyes, waffles. What can't escape (the boldface type) the door that slams, your heavy feet, dark eyes demanding waffles. What remains (the words that blur) a broken dish your cracking wit, my steady hand, now waffles.
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Apr 9, 2015
Apr 9, 2015 at 11:38 PM UTC
Signing Papers at the Attorney's Office
I guess poetry can be used to inspire resolve but I'm looking for the kind of direct, boldface salve that spawns trust, eats doubt and sifts the tar from under my ribs "The medium is the message." - **** McLuhan said
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May 3, 2017
May 3, 2017 at 10:57 AM UTC
so many poems that should have been conversations
In box ghosts In god we trust Picture from forgotten toasts Friendships cyclical, boom or bust One, two, three, four Boldface type between the junk Plaintive missives to ignore Memories stored within a trunk Friends arrayed 'neath a tree Once upon a summer's eve Kept in touch with none of thee With a pen we took our leave Scattered comments, wish you were Scattered ashes, dust to dust Given a choice of you or her Follow always wanderlust Blinking cursor, monochrome screen One truck passes on the street Slowly passing fields of green A moment's thought, then press delete.
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Mar 6, 2013
Mar 6, 2013 at 12:20 PM UTC
You've Got Mail
~ infinitude (noun): the state, the quality of being without limit, infinite ~ drew first breath, woken to the heart’s rpm thankless task, conscious aware, that solved proofs deny infinitude, yet, triumvirate of five senses, brain waving, a steadying thumping heart, all asking why not? can I will it? the body’s parts convene, debating furious, some claiming a sell-by-date cellular programmed, nothing to be done, dimming of the day, a human necessity, the self-salvaging process but a single cell, a mouse-sized squeaker, boldface stuns, *”feed me, moisturize, give me sleep + blue blood nourishment, I’m good to go in a forever Iditarod!”* the others ashamed of their festival of fear, knowing well what has gone before, dreaming thoughts of infinitude, go silent, while “why not?” lingers in the lungs, the breathable shared, atmosphere, the senses spread the quest to every remote province, with each continuing a chant grows ever louder, a millennium of poems concealed, yet awaiting conception, all entitled, “why not”reverberating. <+> 7:36am 2022020 nyc everywhere
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Feb 8, 2020
Feb 8, 2020 at 3:23 PM UTC
No sense of infinitude (asking why not?)
Now what of you from a place in my memory from a memory in the past from the past I barely remember anymore Is there any more you will be to me than a phone number I cannot call than a photograph in my computer screen than a newspaper article I've read and reread again and again Are you more of a loss or a gain- like the profit from falling for love and the debt from falling apart in love and all its constituents from butterflies to monsters to daydreams to tear drops to fireworks Because this want works like fire works to burn then burn out but never like the fire in your eyes of passion and compassion that builds fire then stays burning up unless in exchange of more match sticks you have for today Will you forever be a thought from night to day from all the merriment I encounter to all the melancholy after a thought I'll remember more striking than a bad news typed in boldface This might be like all the others where I put on a bold face to pick up one by one the torn pieces of hope I set up way too high but not to fix any part of my heart fully secured from similar events from before tick tock tick tock there, like time, like them, off you go Off you go
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May 1, 2015
May 1, 2015 at 4:11 PM UTC
l u r k
We all have a choice to free Will He starts off locked in a cage You might choose to just chill Or you may embrace your rage Paralyzed you can remain still But Remember this is your stage It's truly only your time to **** Choose your fate, turn the page You fell asleep and woke to see Under the bottom rock lay a key I wonder, Was it even locked? Perchance,Is this all a dream? A blunder, yet they knocked Romance, A Jehovah scheme A paradise of the utmost ultimate utopia A paradox, of thee immaculate dystopia We chase and climb as we proclaim the divine As Robert weaves tightropes and walks the line A friend indeed to help Will Succeed to not blindly bleed and pay the taxman's greed It's only your life to lead, or perhaps throw away Why not nurture the seed, and extend your stay Please open your eyes and decide your path Boldface the lies and regret's dreadful wrath The future is here, prepare for a great surprise I'm going to end this poem's life, with italicize
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Feb 22, 2017
Feb 22, 2017 at 12:22 AM UTC
Dipped in Delirium and Dressed to Chill
If you Want to shoot From the hip Make sure You're not firing blanks. Anyone worth their salt Will tell you to be yourself Then step aside to let you find that self. Run from those Who claim to see   The truth too clearly And with those that want to Meet me I say... "Meet me half way, Then there is no extra mile". Leaders Have in mind, To lead. Preachers.. They want to preach. Story Tellers tell stories, Some, fact filled, Others are sprinkled With truths, still others Are boldface fabricated fiction. Looking within to find The answers I've come to know To be genuine.. And with Wisdom comes The pain of responsibility. A responsibility That resides in the acts one does Or the lack of action One chooses not to do. Others don't hear you From where you're at, They hear from where They are at.    Either it's 'Pearls before swine' or a gentle reminder to heed or discard. Knowing a whole lot of Not much at all I remain eager to learn More of The Mystery. My aim is to walk Shoulder to shoulder, Not ahead of nor behind For in the moment I can see where once I was blind. "Don't Worry, Be happy" So easy to say, at times So hard to do, "The Proof is in the Pudding and the Puddings in the fridge". And with that, The last quote Will have to do.
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Jun 15, 2014
Jun 15, 2014 at 11:52 AM UTC
Pontificated Poesy
As par and parcel of being alive wire impossible aye to maintain totally tubularly literarily celibate by and bye with parochial restraint antiseptic dry as dust poetic refrains asper this healthy older guy devoid of physical whim zee unlike a inscrutable eunuch...so hi there dear reader experienced by this self contrived Zen minded nonestablishmentarian outlier, whose nonconformist yen tries to steer clear of controversy, heresy, prurient wen unless one happened to be eunuchized, i.e. sexless as a cold oven, but similar to generic men this writerly hen pecked husband dully drumming, droning, and dribbling as a lix spittle aged chap housed within Schwenksville, Pennsylvania bailiwick though far less inclined to whet ma lil atrophied dipstick than some young buck at the peak of his ****** prowess every now and again viz, aye feel a much slighter sensation drubbing, crackling, and buckling mine body electric and attempt to record re: font ten blue type boldface and/or Italic such infrequently occurring fleeting Johnson magic speculating why the hoo ha regarding mystic spell binding codas, dogmas, and enigmas, an integral component naturalistic within the calculus of life, when human species (parenthetically), naturally, inherently, and biologically opportunistic akin to other organisms whose quixotic antics allow NON GMO, MSG, and gluten free, and uncensored discussion asper reproductive habits rhapsodic with floral and/or faunal symphonic emanations donning each their own "NON FAKE" trumpeting spectacular humbly modest rubric, yet...universalistic as being linkedin within the cosmic whirled wide web.
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Jul 28, 2018
Jul 28, 2018 at 4:00 PM UTC
Just Shy 'o The Concupiscent Cusp
As par and parcel of being alive wire impossible aye to maintain totally tubularly literarily celibate by and bye with parochial restraint antiseptic dry as dust poetic refrains asper this healthy older guy devoid of physical whim zee unlike a inscrutable eunuch...so hi there dear reader experienced by this self contrived Zen minded nonestablishmentarian outlier, whose nonconformist yen tries to steer clear of controversy, heresy, prurient wen unless one happened to be eunuchized, i.e. sexless as a cold oven, but similar to generic men this writerly hen pecked husband dully drumming, droning, and dribbling as a lix spittle aged chap housed within Schwenksville, Pennsylvania bailiwick though far less inclined to whet ma lil atrophied dipstick than some young buck at the peak of his ****** prowess every now and again viz, aye feel a much slighter sensation drubbing, crackling, and buckling mine body electric and attempt to record re: font ten blue type boldface and/or Italic such infrequently occurring fleeting Johnson magic speculating why the hoo ha regarding mystic spell binding codas, dogmas, and enigmas, an integral component naturalistic within the calculus of life, when human species (parenthetically), naturally, inherently, and biologically opportunistic akin to other organisms whose quixotic antics allow NON GMO, MSG, and gluten free, and uncensored discussion asper reproductive habits rhapsodic with floral and/or faunal symphonic emanations donning each their own "NON FAKE" trumpeting spectacular humbly modest rubric, yet...universalistic as being linkedin within the cosmic whirled wide web.
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No know sense of infinitude (asking why not?)        ~ noun: the state, the quality of being without limit, infinite drew first breath, woken to the heart’s thankless task, conscious aware, that the solved proofs deny infinitude, yet, triumvirate of five senses, brain waving, a steadying thumping heart, all asking why not? can I will it? the body’s parts convene, debating furious, some claiming a sell-by-date cellular programmed, nothing to be done, dimming of the day, a human necessity, the self-salvaging process but a single cell, a mouse-sized squeaker, boldface stuns, ”feed me, moisturize, give me sleep + blue blood nourishment,” the others ashamed of their festival of fear, knowing well what has gone before, thought dreaming of infinitude, go silent, while “why not?” lingers in the lungs, the breathable atmosphere, the senses spread the quest to every remote province, with each continuing a chant grows ever louder, a millennium of poems concealed, yet  awaiting conception, all entitled “why not”reverberating. <+> 7:36am 2022020 nyc everywhere
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Feb 2, 2020
Feb 2, 2020 at 7:43 AM UTC
No know sense of infinitude (asking why not?)