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The Dedpoet Jan 2016
A rolling hill
With suffocating oaks
Under the dire grey of sky
Pass along the dire straits
Of the Ded.

And the Ded do speak
Like silent auras wandering
In poetical forms,
From the Ded they embrace
The pain and sad skies.

Slowly they walk the desolations
And bring forth the balance
Of the darkness's and a
Black rose blooms.

Once alive the Ded searched
For hope;
But the self absorption
In the heavy skies
In the mind's prison
Hold a still terror,
The Ded walk among marble slabs
Of light.
mike Dec 2013
i dont smoke wen i ***.. i *** smoke.
i dont think out loud.. its too loud to think.
wen i destroy planet. i dont destroy planet.
i make space.
if my eyes are open and no one can see them..i must be in a restaurant with an all blind staff.
eating alone. after hours. recycling *****. recycling puke. singing to tiny people who live on my shoulder. in my car. driving tiny cars of their own. and i lay down with a brick on the gas so they can make an overpass on top of me. and there is a sunset in my car. and we all try to catch it. but that would **** us. or at least make our hands disappear. and no one can drive safe now. we're going to crash. drive off the overpass and into my mouth. or fly. and this is all happening in every tiny car. they are giant people. with tiny cars driving in their cars. whos cars... the worlds cars. cars for fleas. cars for ded birds. cars for ded people. we are all ded people. we are all worlds. we are planet. ded planet. exploding and harboring the tiny suns. making too much sound. so no one thinks. because ded dont think. they make space. i am space. a space with shape. inside space. talking to animals. and eating. and drinking love potions. and none of them werk. especially the animals. theyre disabled. they have no hands. and have suns for eyes. but all they see is planet. with a restaurant in it. where waiters are blind. spill your soda. walk into knives. get cleaned up by night crew. werk for nice things. spend time on things. until they are destitute. but things still stay. and change shape. and are fake food. for disabled animals. and they lose all their time. the fake food absorbs all the time. the last of their time makes them rot. and the thing is now ready. to trick someone. into eating fake food. things are real. they have lives now. they miss birthdays. they have birthdays. they have time. they lose time. time is walking. but time is not moving. planet is moving. space is still. space stops breathing. space gets fat. space dies. time is stopped. nowhere to go. turn inside out forever. loses its mind. doesnt have one now. doesnt kno its gone. doesnt kno its time. its not time. its the only thing. not a thing. everything. no friends. no family. no pigs. just inside and outside. no inside. no outside. turning inside out. forever. so no inside. outside. no space. no shape. filling up itself. constantly changing. but never different. and never die. we die. we are lucky. we are happy. happy poeple. very big and very small. emotional. stupid. too loud to think.
mike Dec 2013
your father is a morbid man puddy. .. . but morbid can be good if you accept it...
..how can it be good?idunnoimnotmakinganysense............   ..  ..    .well.   i guess if youre in the right mood or in the right setting.(i pictured people. a woman mainly. with dark hair. and everyone had glasses of red wine and were laughing in a short hysterical way. and i realize these people arent representations of people ive seen act like this, theyre representations of me. i kno that feeling which makes that laugh. when hearing stories or seeing pictures or videos of people dying suddenly or getting tortured and the abuser maybe dismembering himself or herself after or committing an interesting suicide which we love to hear about and the sickening brutality and pain and fear and cringing you feel is instantly replaced with a swift too swift and sharp laughter. and these stories are real, otherwise its just silliness or boys being boys with their sick imaginations and saying it just for attention or to be funny or weird.. and we all might question ourselves slightly but either Time or Exposure to the Wicked World or most likely the validation of our indecencies with everybody else's  because its a whole room laughing lets us feel better about it each time but then more ashamed of our withering virtue until we forget. and something to understand from the remark "but either Time or Exposure to the Wicked World or most likely the validation of our indecencies" ad its there is no difference in this matter between the options 2 and 3 because we are the Wicked World. and all 3 are just things we waste. and if not laughing sharplyand loud and insane maybe some of us are at least being entertained while wailing in a definite cringe or exasperation or i dont kno but it is blended with the jovial air of the room. and people and family members laugh with and comfort and joke with eachother like a pride or a flock or any group of animals showing their young 'here.its ok.its an apple. you can touch it. it wont hurt you. its our food.' but we say "c'mere, the foundation of this world and all its agony will rip you apart, so here, learn how to find joy in it otherwise youll be too effected and will need to be discarded from normal happy people who kno their happiness comes first. because thats how we work as people and as a group. now here, have a drink. we pretend it helps and seek it out against our better judgment because we dont want to exist because weve become nothing in place of the wide range of terrible emotions we should experience when seeing the world for what it is.. ourselves most of all." and i guess that is what i pictured. the average happy people. family people. nice house and aunts and christmas people. and i kno im biased but nothing in this imagery matters. i was supposed to capture just the thoughts which i actually spoke to myself or my dog or whoever but now i have a brick-sized moving picture of my interpretation of happy family americans and other nations and just everybody.  but im no different. deep down anyway. deep down i am selfish and scared and come to the conclusion that the world is too complicated to be fixed and were too dumb to fix it reguardless and more so we are filled with souls which shift too often which we must only watch drift away moment to moment leaving us with many things but definitely a healthy amount of selfishness and, well, psychology i guess. we can figure our race and ourselves out as much as is possible and maybe even be right about some things, but knowing what drives us and feeling compelled are unrelated. too constant of a shift are we to be anything describable in correct terms and too unknown is the future to kno wut form our shift could bring us to. ..this is all absolute nonsense. i started rambling world. u gave me a mouth and i started rambling with it. i am definitely equal to a baby human or animal just shrieking into the world because, well just because its alive. so im a baby with no way of managing my existence other than making sounds because there are ears everywhere and peeing where i lay because its inside of me then it comes out because im unaware of my functions and we all send scattered unfinished nonsense to eachother and they send their own version of it back to the human and we manage to make ourselves sick and destroy our home and we're like an ant colony with no coordination.) and then something about laughter is sometimes a coverup for discomfort, so laughing from something morbid is not good. but then again it is still a laugh, and wut is the point system for laughing goodness and thats it the end jesus christ stop. *******. later. txt me wenever. have fun at ur party. i hope the weathers nice up north and not too cold cuz i kno u hate the cold. and im probably a boring **** saying cheezy things trying to act natural and nice and caring but i have my own agenda and am too unnaware to kno that and therefore will never be able to change for the better because i am a stupid human who thinks they have something figured out about every moment of every day but cant really do anything. cant see myself how others see me and cant feel the right way ong enough to accept it and constantly contradicting my conceptual and moral and spiritual universe and will never realize that 99.9 percent of the time my thoughts are of things like rocks and puffy things and shooting myself in the head and im hungry and **** that ***** and... im such a loser. if i dont start acting and living like a straight shooter my only outcome down the road will be lonelyness, heartbreak. regret. shame. and many other bad things where everything i love is either ded or has abandoned me because i am now a man and there is no such thing as abandoning a man but i am alone and want to die and i do. i **** myself and im ded. and there is no heaven and i have no soul and no one knows im ded and the passerbys and police officers and coroners who kno that im ded dont kno my name. so everyone i ever loved who havent loved me for years will die years down the road with families who love them and i will never cross their minds again. and i will deserve it. and i will pray for satan to devour my flesh and feel a demon inhabit my body along with my terror.
magicbroccoli66 Sep 2017
me amd me ded arr heppie
wee plai calll ob dutie togeter
hourr favoorit movee id het fozz

wun dai he sai to mi
hoedw olds arrr yyou
i sai i an 176 h3 sai wen i *** urag i
*** 177

it mak noo sensse too mre
@lostboy
Lilly frost Nov 2015
My hero
My safety cloak
My inspiration
My teacher
I loved you as all these things
Through your poems
Though it might not show
You were my smile
And my sunshine
For your poems made me understand
That even though Ded Poets die
Their hearts and souls
Will forever survive
Through their poems and what they've done
Bill murray Sep 2015
Didn't know the young man Mr ded poet I just like to say may you young man find peace in your needing time's.



Friend bill,
SøułSurvivør Jun 2015
A TRIBUTE TO HELLO POETRY

This will be a long write.
There are so many I wish
to honor and thank.

Please, if you can, pull up
Bruce Cockburn's song
Maybe the Poet on YouTube.
Listen to the words as you read this.
It will greatly add to your enjoyment.

I play no favorites...
you ALL are class acts!

Here's a tribute. Yep. It's long!
But listen to Bruce Cockburn's song.
I want to emulate what's sung
Yes, not miss a poet, one!

ryn has got a range of art
Ded Poet's got a poet's heart
elsa angelica's soul resounds
Bhumika's a dove
with a golden crown!

Wolfspirit's pen can spill his love
Wonderman's ink from up above
sjr...1000 words so wise
Scarlet Pimpernel's talent's
not disguised!

Joe Malgeri's a spiritual gent
Paige Pots' work is heaven sent
Tivonna has love for natural things
Helena's work has roots and wings!

Pradip, in my eyes number one
as is Thomas A Robinson
jeffrey robin's style is loose and bold
Rupal has a heart of gold!

John Stevens has an earthy wit
Pax means peace, his candle's lit
Tryst's ballads are a perfect fit
and I love Lidi Minuet!

donna's sweet as honeydew
Jason Cole fits like a shoe
Prttybrd sings songs with style
Day Wing flies! He has a smile!

Deborah's walking on her beach
her talent has a range and reach
Rapunzel let's her hair way down
Weeping Willow
has a pleasant sound!

Joe Cole loves all fantasy
SSilkenTounge has a mind that's free
Solaces is a very old friend
I hope to see Botan again!

Urmilla writes beyond her years
Chalsey Wilder writes bring tears
Tonya Maria and I share pain
Wise is K Balachandran!

CA Guifoyle lives in my town
Adam Childs' the best around
SE Reimer can put us in the mood
Musfiq us Shaleheen
Is so VERY good!

Richard Riddle honors with poetry
Love my collab, Arcassin B!
Sally A Bayan's good and kind
Hayden Swan's a real find!

Love comments from Joe Adomavicia
zik, I'm always glad to see ya!
TGWLY has a heart that hurts
Erenn Y does heartfelt works...

Elizabeth Squires has classic writes
Frank Ruland's fights
for what is right
And if a scare you want to see
just look up POETIC T!

Oh! There are SO many more!
There are poets by the score!
I don't want to be a bore
But read them ALL! You will be
FLOORED !!!

MORE POETS!!!

Lori Jones McCaffery
Kalypso
Niamh Price
Mya Angel
Mike Hauser
Vicki
Ignatius Hosiana
Frankie J
Chris Green
mark cleavenger
brandon nagley
Winn
Puds (Pete)
Deborah Brooks Langford
Timothy
Marian
Hilda
Harriet Tecumsah Watt
it's gonna make sense
mybarefootdrive
Dark n Beautiful
WL Winter
Margaux
Pamela Rae
Venusoul7
Eddie Starr
Olivia Kent
Brenden Thomas
Zoe
Raj Arumugam
Elijah
Sukeerti
Manny
M.A.N
Jonny Angel
Dylan Mitchell
James M Vines
bulletcookie
i am miss brightside
Chris Fracc
Cat
Ocean Blue
Phil Lindsay
Mike Hauser
PearlSy
Christi Michaels Moon Flower
Raj Nandy
SPT
PoETEPETE Now RePETE After PETE
Makayla Kelly
Paul Gafney
Nan Trapp Messer
Chloe
Steven Langhorst
Daniel Palmer
Chris Smith Dark Poet Soul
C A Guilfoyle
TRAVELLER
Soul
GitacharYa VedaLa
Rosalind heather Alexander
S R Matts
Paul Gattney
Danny Mak
patty m
liv frances
Gary L
Ngamau Boniface
IOWA
Earl Jane
ber
Justin G
James
ste'phanie noir
born
Aztec Warrior


Last but not least... olestoryteller
and Francie Lynch! Ketoma Rose!
If there's someone I've forgotten
PLEASE TELL ME!

Also please read Hello again, Poets!
I wrote more! Also please read the poem 'diamonds'. There are many tributes to people who i missed in this write.

I'LL WRITE A SPECIAL POEM
JUST FOR YOU!

---
mike Jan 2013
to whom was once concerned:
back when the electricity tried to keep up with you and your veins pushed caustic solutions.
used to stand in front of guns of your own metal to see your strengths eye to eye.
would march through the streets of your own rebellion and give rise to the fact that youd changed your mind. to look for a fight, and a fight you will find.
walk the top of the library building looking if thats where they keep the books on Dying and Killing.
but never was there, from you and the air, so youd say:
'maybe they keep em between here and the ground, no better time to start flying than now',
broke-necked pile youre found.
my son, the ded, and i AM you.
my father, he, Time, he had watched her, she, Death,
& they shared in slaughter in birthing my breath.
free like a still-born still floating in slime, like the last moment before life, before death, too divine.
when im no one ill get mine.
Irisgoesrawr666 Jan 2015
Gurl stops meking out
n asked boi to get potartz
he dus
den gurl teks deep breff
and gurl sais
bf
I am pregnent
will u stay ma bf
n he seys
"NO"
gurl iz hertbrokn
gurl cried n runz awaii from boi wiffout eatin poptart
n she has low blood suga
so she fols
boi runs ova 2 her
She Ded
boi crie
I sed I no be ur bf
cuz i wona b ur husband!
he screems
n frows poptart @ wol
a bootiful diomand ring wus insyd

LIK DIS IF U CRY EVERTIM!!!!
Path Humble Jul 2016
only man de-man-ded

an explanation,

for the natural.

fool hu-man,

man-I-fold the wonders,

the inexplic-able bent to fit

the curved overture of the heart.

my plan for the day,

accept that these two hands

yours, can push an elder's wheelchair

up Third Avenue,

and never understand the how

the saving was mine own ABC's

answering,

the existential why's.


may 8 12:07 am
jeffrey robin Jan 2015
(
/ ) ) \
/\

            •
                          •

We walk the DED streets

We see what the DED poet sees

( death )



In the mental haze of AMERICA

The immoral unrestrained

HANDS of Power !

Children and mothers weep

///

And are you        Here ?

Are we         Anywhere at all
Anymore ?

The stars tell stories

The gods and goddesses scream forth their Pain

••

We

Within the ****** 's sights !

Ready to fall away

From creation Itself



The DED streets

Only the DED poet sees

He speaks in your behalf



He is hungry

Can you spare a bite to eat ?

Dare you defy THE MAN !

//

These censored days

We talk the talk of slaves



Truth remains

It will be gone when you

Completely disappear





.
Joe Cole Sep 2015
Well Ernesto you're leaving us in body
But your spirit will always live on
Through the beautiful words you have left us
I'm Me Jul 2016
The Monster Within

The beast lurks within my chest ******* out the rest

The remaining parts that makes me, me

The teeth of the beast, pierces my heart

I try to heal as the pain pours out

I hold my screams, fearing redemption from the beast

Been with me for so long it feels right....
This pain, is all I feel, sometimes all I need, sometimes this pain makes me feel like me again, because I can feel again

Instead of being an empty shell
Ottar Dec 2013
Mirrored concrete, no details,
Drops of rain, carried in trails,
Of footsteps, of therapy, in a retail
Disguise, while eyes of well dressed
Crows, glint with the glitter of the decor,
Shop for more, shop for more, evermore,
Evermore, for tomorrow it may be gone.


©DWE122013
Time to get serious about poetry, without getting serious, without making light,
But sharing, for I need a community, I have a home, I have a family, I have words, are they birds and take flight or rocks and take a different path, or just hot air balloons, destined for the moon?
mike Jun 2013
its the ded winter, nowhere in sight a life besides you and your infant you you exhume.
crying screaming and frozen tears rip off the face.
you die in no time youre sure of it.
baby making cry make you want to suffocate the sound. or child. or you.
no time til die.
you die, child die.....then two to exhume if one is to find,
after more make to burry and mourn the no-more.
youre a full person and the other a half .
......you...youyouyouyouyou..... do you eat the child??....
youve made before you can make more ..... but if you make it.
. . . . . . . . . . .  i promise not to search for nothing to find.
ded cowardice feed on a barely born suffering.
and out of breath. no mouth to mouth. i eat both what i find.
a hellish hunger froze over the deadened bodies. preserved and rotting.
You’re so dumb It’s like someone hit you with a brick
I  have a PHD that means  pretty huge ****

***** so hot itll make you fly
I killed your mama and then she died

So what you learned are two things
my thing is big and your moms now ded
Ja feel
Our enlightenment is endless
timeless
Our ignorance is endless
timeless
Our understanding should be endless
timeless

Awakening like spring
we cling
to teachings handed
down
Men take up the pen
in order to
teach
Not to preach

The boatman will await
Our trip
Down the final river
Our endless search
for Zen will end with an
Amen
© JLB
JB Claywell Aug 2014
Falling out of bed,
sliding down to the floor.
Flesh of my back
catches the edge of
the nightstand,
peels back in a 12-inch
strip that my wife
finds on the floor,
and dutifully throws in
the trashcan.
She’s throwing me out,
one piece at a time.

The Dedpoet Nov 2015
So Im alive,
But I died a little inside.
Because I am dead
And now alive and reborn
Into a thousand words never written,
I will become no one again.
Did you metaphorically cry?
Sad as thinking how well
You truly knew me?

" But we were poets!"

And so you live and die by the
Stroke of the passionate lie
That are the words that well
Up inside like a brutal indignity,
Outraged at my shamelessness
Did I ever truly puncture your heart?
I am Ded inside,
And I dont know you,
But I just love your poetry!

So we sever the ties from reality
And divorce the facts
In a hopeful serenade to the deaf,
See how I magnify the ignorance
With brazeness?
Such splendid grandoisity!
And a poem is just a word,
There is no poem without action.
I am me,
No metaphor needed,
Just who the hell do you think
You are?
The Dedpoet Jul 2018
And how I became you
Was a unanimous glory
That filled every breath
With with "Hallelujah"

And there for the saviour
Was the creation of your
Bathed light, that which birthed
The man I want to be.

I knew you from before
When our melancholic grace
Danced the beleaguered Edge
And the fall from grace wasnt
So bad,

When the pale moon danced
And passed the dark rose
Of your neck to my vampiric
Lusts, bllod lines of our intense
Passions.

You cannot see how i need you,
There would be no air
To fill the lungs of the world, as the last breath will call your name....

This is how:
And the Heavens parted
When the seductress was given
Its first light born of the
Fires in your eyes delivered
By the scorn of my regret,
Words are juat figments of thought,
But here in the poem Melissa's
Beat is adorned with Deds
Conundrum;
How can I die into you
When I am more alive
And torn from my usual pain,
The right of passage is delayed,
I cannot leave the sorrows *****,
I am Ded inside,
I destroy the beauty inside,
I am lost because U ignited
The life inside the words
And alive is having never lived.

Yes I love you.

But your reasons:
I am slave to thoughts
And i am everywhere
But never where i should be,
And in my rush i trip
Over your miracle,
How to break the curse im your
Soul with the blessed curse of
My love?

I quesyion the moon in your eyes,
The luminescent smile
That lit my way back from
The poem,
And i return only because
The poem wiill reflect
The magnitude of you.

It was death that brought me
To you.
And life is more with u in it,
Show me how to live woman,
Bevause I was Ded,
Now I cannot see past the third Heaven.
Because my eyes are only
Visions of your essence,
I want to bathe you with
My touch,
Adorn you with my kiss
A crown of them so you know
I blaspheme the world
As you are my new one.
I crave you because the hunger
Is a practical wanting, needing
Only your miracle,
I broke thee chains and declared
Myself enslaved to your every need and want
Fulfilled as the man
Only wants one woman,
The unclaimed has no calling,
So you cannot hear me.

Your reasons hurt,
They blled questions
And entertain the fool,
And for Mellissa,
A thousand times Ded,
But without you I do not
Belong here,
The world is not for me.
And before the words exalt
You, before I say
One last time i want your body
Becoming a noun on your breast, a verb on your thigh,
Every ****** a stanza...
Melissa adorned with legs on eternal
Wings falling from graces tears,
Take me Home,
You are not here for my life
But to pass me into death
For the reasons you simply cannot.

I will not face it without you.
And what else can a poem say
But only that i love you
And my soul will find you again
In the next life
Dancing with u in 122.
Filmore Townsend Jul 2013
and the sweat lingers with a
thin film of dust, dirt, mold --
whichever what have you.
what little hydration left of
this soft fleshy vessel seeps
through this veil. creating
rivers of mud that flood the
eyes and blind. though hue
of general existence if silh-
outted. and we follow the sou-
nds hoped spoke on the proper
path. shambling the brush,
ankles caught tight in the
thorns of the undergrowth.
never a first in leaving a
blooded footpath home. and
false words call us upon a
path in Life long returned to
Nature from man. and with blin-
ded eyes and gnarled sense,
trouncing the threshold of door
long closed, fearing only the
chance of having all ended.
the Ocean's desert is nothing
but the sweat of Man's ages'
turned to dust. ended of a
vessel when purpose has seen
fulfillment. to nurture, and
bring forth perpetuation of the
curious disappeared mysteries
resting unburdened, with ponde-
ring left nulled. and recreation,
re-mythologizing aeons not long
past. only a couple thousand
since the last hoarfrost blast.
mike Jun 2013
theyre not ded yet, but theyre still screaming.
and i cant see them. or mourn for them.
but i can hear them.
and when im laying in a park, ded, exhausted of my blood and ****** functions,
then, i will finally be able to make love to their tiny souls.
POSSIBLE Jun 2019
Choice overload
but it feels like scarcity
see a swan
seen it swim
seen a scene with sea biscuit
bout to win
However
the matter at hand
is ascension
from the bottom
to the top of win
till we punch him
in the top of grin
unstoppable
but you ain’t stopping him
like moonshiner ain’t stopping gin
even mantle with the wry cocky grin
subs and sun bring the sin
time to measure
being out the block again
swagg as brag as Gucci’s friend
picture this
as the lock is pried
hard to stop
as the lock has tried
yard hit nonstop
thrown the lost chalk to hide

every minute every second a body dies
balance of life and death but it’s alright
a not neat knot is a knot not worth doing
actions like thrive guiding breath from the ruin.
Jaymisun Kearney Nov 2013
As he opens the door his shadow casts
on the wall before me with his back toward me
He turns to the right, he glances to the left
with his old mind set to yellow alert his due
will arrive, I know
unlikely by knife to throat
but by the worry that drives such fear
and with the time it stole
every year for years till now
May you wonder

Were the lies worth it?
Were the thefts worth it?
--Because the affluence you spent on chance wins won you nothing
Were the spies in bed?
Were your blind eyes met
With the stare of vengeful eyes like you thought?
No, I know you wasted your time
--I know you and I know you've no time
Majd Al Deen Aug 2014
P1
There once was a guy
Who once had a guild
And that guild was built
With seventy head

That guy once guided his guild
Where grey lands were filled and built
He held down his sword and belt
Screaming out loud while moving his head
"Where gold is we land and dig"
"Where glory is we put our head"

There once were guides
Who helped that guild
Finding grey lands
That filled and built

One guild guy had wrote and read
His name was "Chiny Chem Ded"
Other guild guide was in the lead
Where war is you hear " Belly Den Deed "
End of part 1.. please tell me does it worth to continue writing it ;-)
The Dedpoet Feb 2017
No more words.

— The End —