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Nat Lipstadt Mar 2018
I'm your man,
your very own first Northern Star,
the first of the 3 legged stool,
upon which enthroned poets,
the world, do rule

the honor bequeathed me  
to be a  first follower cannot be
disdained nor diminished,
in this case,
the greatest is to be the first,
a quenching of thirst
so long in the parching,
the throat left burning

so come to me,
message me a message,
find me a find, a poem so fine,
I vow,
our vowed embrace will n'ere be broken

give me this honorific,
let us together be terrific,
raise our glasses,
arms entwined toasting you
and all that breast of yours
bursting full of fulfilling future~contains

I am a father.
I am a grandfather.
I am a First Follower.
I am a First Responder
for all who need a leg up.

my legs are as old as time,
measure me not by the rings and  the
metered scales of gray hair aging,
but by the muscles of my affection,
the solemnity of my irrevocable promise

this,
the blessing we earn when you post,
while we wait in quiet attendance -
for your good works

"Blessed are You Lord our God, Ruler of the Universe
who has given us life, sustained us, until just now,
allowing the reader and the writer, to reach this day."
ThePoet Aug 2015
I didn't bury it or leave it behind
since the day that you and I met,
it didn't slip right through my mind
nor was I leading myself to forget.

I had forgiven you just as you asked
but it wasn't all diminished for life,
for I wouldn't so easily have masked
how you had stabbed me with a knife.

© Sarah Ahmed (ThePoet)
Brody Blue Aug 2017
Under the tree of the university
A shadow was gruesomely cast
Photosynthesis met its nemesis
And there grew no grass
No one would lie under its wood
Down beside its trunk;
It wasn't essential, there was no potential,
Claimed the revered monk
But late at night you'll find him lying in the dirt
Wearing a Paisley Poplin Shirt

The click of the gears define his years,
A cycle on a chain
A cloud of sand thrown by his own hand
Hones forth his pain
He blows seeds of dandelion weeds
****** a ****** field
And he pretends that he intends
To reap this horrible yield
Because unintentionally he subconsciously convert
To one who wears a Paisley Poplin Shirt

Covered in rust, a blade he adjusts,
His mind remains unwrung
The words to speak were too **** bleak
So he cuts off his tongue
He'll be finished when he's diminished
These humanly sights
If there's no vision at the end of his mission
He'll gouge out his eyes
And Helen Keller takes one of her old ragged skirts
And fashions him a Paisley Poplin Shirt

Why must we be obsessed
With the unseen
When we know we cannot
Make something out of nothing
And to those of you who think that you cannot be hurt
Stones go thru a Paisley Poplin Shirt
Song Lyrics
I’ve been watching the seasons change
from this lonely little bus stop shelter.
Waiting in limbo,
as the leaves turn from an animated green,
to the frost bitten crunch
of once was.
The landscapes danced dynamically before.
Trees swayed blissfully
over the vibrantly brushstroked canvas;
yet now they stand still.
Motionless.
Paralysed, like a Polaroid picture.
But in this time of waiting;
my momentary detention of movement;
a suspension of my heart’s desires.
I’ve observed as the scenery
turns to the deceased.
The dead.
The diminished.
And returns back
to the living
as it always does
and always will
eventually.
Just as seasons change, so will how we feel.
BJ Donovan Jan 2
Comfort food without comfort
Sympathy cards without sympathy
baby bracelet without our baby
We live in our diminished world
as best we can and hope to die
before we wake to our empty crib.
Stephen E Yocum May 2018
I dreamed of him again last night,
of how he always made me smile.
Over eight years a family friend,
his daily antics always on display,
morning and afternoon walks and talks,
his joyful baths in his small pond while
he playfully bobbed and dove beneath
the spray of my garden hose.

This was no human being,
a handsome Mallard Duck instead.
The self proclaimed King
of our barnyard clan,
always strolling and patrolling the
grounds, waiting for us, quacking
his greetings, excitingly flapping
his flightless wings at our approach.

His loneliness petticoat showing, he
followed everywhere, seemed to live
merely to be in our company, eat corn
from our hands, living precious minutes
of needed shared congeniality.

Two morning ago he was not there,
we searched and called his name
but he had completely disappeared.

A coyote perhaps, or bird of prey
our King taken and gone away.
Our lives are diminished by his loss,
Though only a bird, he was our
dear companion, a convivial friend.

I dreamed of him again last night,
of how he always made me smile.
Today I mourn his passing.
A tribute to a noble foul, if ever there was
one. Friends come in many forms and hues,
if one cares to see and embrace them for
who and what they are.
Avary Oct 2018
No, I don’t have a boyfriend.

I don’t have the desire to see another end;
after exhaustive months of getting to know
a fictionalised persona, fragmented, so

No, I don’t have a boyfriend.

The last one hurt and you didn’t see,
but that doesn’t proclaim the scar less prominent to me,
my feelings numb, I no longer crave the intimacy - detrimental to me.

No, I don’t have a boyfriend.

The last boys touch was for him not for me
and my body still screams cause he won’t let it be
and you’ll never understand as the trauma won’t subside
and my self esteem is diminished by his lies.

No, I don’t have a boyfriend.

I humoured a guy who gave it a try
but all I could feel was nothing inside
and when someone bumps into me sauntering by
the unwanted touch still makes me cry.

No, I don't want a boyfriend.
Butch Decatoria Sep 2018
**** is like waiting in a long line for the zoo
So this must be limbo...

Time stretches / skeleton skin skeins
The tock the tick / the clock
Sketches
Schizophrenic melancholia
Mockingly sickening
Traffic of panic / deafening
Time stales / takes Forever
A long while - in limbo
Zombie shock / mind akimbo

And loneliness is a box
This corpse sits in
As existence / outside frightful / persisting
***** and spritz-ing
Our vibrant thangs
Songs shouts to gang sign slangs
Even when the lyrics
Go deep
Six feet sorrow
Hip hopping to defeat

But we gots to love it
The life we have
The Flava and the savor this last dance .
Makes me wanna Dougie
Percolating / jump / criss cross
Vanilla bean / jump jump

But what is a song to a diminished bird
No cage more cruel than the loss of worth
Hearts depart from its soul
Jester / fools / without cheer
No cartwheels glee or clue
Happy days adieu
High times zero new
Birds to the sky / fist pump / guns
This is for the Razza
End what's done begun

Waiting to get thru
Theme parks colorfully masking
Reality's streets and truth
Inmates as we are forced to wait
Hate is quicker to arrive
Behind bars hollows Time
Takes our forever
Even waking up
Still in limbo / thirsty without a cup
Same ole system
Who's business makes slaves
Kept blind and silently afraid
Kept
In a state / of mindlessness
Now worse than before

Schitzo screaming schisms
Crazy IS the war
Fear wreaks havoc
Boom boom back to a room
In your head goes the bomb
Shrapnel wounded / half none...

Are we there yet?
Just farts in the wind
Waiting is **** / how does life begin?
Just passing by / passed away / a passerby
Yelling and complaining
Let me in ? Get me out ?
Ghost to life's boo hoo / poor you
What happens to dreams wasted
In the zoo
Eyes turned frozen
Cold uncaring
Dying and lying / lifeless stories to share
As beauty within is in despair
As beasts overcrowd the fair
Flotsam in limbo float
Alone in its killer cold
Time still passing / parole / on hold
Much hope

Where are we
If there is nothing
No penny for fairy tale wells

Wishes are dead in fountains
Rich and heavy to the bottom
With tossed currencies. Fell.
How will a coin speak
Who will ever know
If we do not paint out loud
The masterpiece of the dream?

Tell me dreamer what time do you have
Still waiting?

In this zoo...

When it always was and is
And always will be

Up to you.
Revised retitled
Carina Jan 26
Her sadness hung around her
Like a suit of tailored tears.
And her vision started to blur
Knowing she lost someone dear.
Goodbyes always hurt the most
When the story wasn't finished
When opportunities were missed
And potential is diminished.
She gazed into the black abyss
Thinking about what could have been.
The abyss gazed back into her
Its loneliness crawled under her skin.
But she heard a whisper in the wind
Saw the sun's diamond glints on snow
A lonely lark appeared to sing
A song that only she could know.
It made her step back from the brink
Of the river that can't be conquered twice
For she was never left behind;
on his way to paradise.
For my grandpa.
Marla Toledez Feb 23
Life is as inviting
As she is intense,
But don't be put off
By her indifference.

She will make us all martyrs
Before we're left diminished;
Leading us to slaughter
As we bask in our innocence.

So fear not her wrath,
For she is not shrill.
Their only directive is to ****;
Live before you've had your fill.
Prologue: He wrote her a poem
With the weight of a love letter
Her wrote her one hundred more
Just to know she was truth


I want to budget
my words
To strangle the
syllables
To pin down the point
To lock into you

so now I am
Sisyphus ready
my hands on the boulder
so steady the blood from the dig in my shoulder

I lock my eyes on the sun
to find a find a place on the grip
but
would take the weight of the world
for a
taste of your lip


**** it
I’m
ready to serve
only
you


so
how do I
coldly
***** ribs
in a caged heart of strife?
without stealing
the lungs
of the one who breathes life?


I meet you often in my late hours morose
meditating on mad dreams
Your cockiness verbose
just give me the word
I’ll do as you please
you can file your nails
as my tongue splits your knees

(Bukowski) Banging (******* skeleton keys) a sentence assassin
killing paragraphs (open essays diminished)
as the typewriter talks till it laughs (in tatters+finished)
screaming
”take me through door after door!!!”

Always seeking
the right words,
From love’s lexiconic relief,
the sentence that shatters,
so don’t run on the dream
it’s punctuation that matters
the period that finally
bores into you
.
mariamme Apr 2018
let's be real my darling;
your life is not worth anything
in the eyes of a selfish man.
the bright fire of love
is easily diminished in time;
and, if we're honest,
for a selfish man,
love is not an entity
that is anything more
than a passing feeling,
a word to say
in sheets of silk and satin caresses
that secure your devotion
your worship
and your skills at cooking eggs
while he takes a long shower,
washing off your love
pampering himself for the next girl's
carbon copy body.
so easily forgotten,
stolen kisses are lauded
in coffee shops and movie theatres
but stolen is still pain
when the romance has been washed down the drain.
Andrew Guzaldo c Aug 2017
"Dear dispiritedness,
I'm addressing to let you know,
That I don't have anything else to give,
Seemingly my hope of life has diminished,

What other can I give to thee,
The scattered air that I gasp,  
This request is not for that of me,  
It is for the benevolence of those that I love,

The ones that love me as I do them,
I didn't  distance myself I was selfish,
I guess they are less of that assessment,  
Either way I wish to spare their squalor,

You can deliver torment to my body,
However may my spirit be at ease,
For those that care this is paramount,
May they not have angst or misery,

I inquire to you dispiritedness,
Satisfy my plea is recede me for now,
We can exist as inwardly,
Just equitably spare my life,
FOR NOW ,
melissa rose Oct 2018
You lie beside me
with romantic feelings inside
But they no longer exist for me
and I know every reason why

I do not feel guilty
for not giving you what you desire
I’ve spent years pretending
there were flames feeding my fire

Early on fear took control
and you began to sculpt me
crafting and moulding
until I became acceptable

I wanted to please you
and went along with your ploy
But I was blind to your agenda
and what you were going to destroy

Weeks turned into months
months into years
Decades have now passed
and you finally admit to your fears

Confessions cannot mend
what never was whole
You stripped my identity
and it’s taken its toll

The truth is my love
has diminished and faded
Your obsession with oppression
has left me apathetic and jaded

Today I am bound and determined
to shed your sallowed skin
and reclaim the original beauty
that has always existed within
10/20/18
Butch Decatoria Aug 2018
What genius evening keeps secret… the moribund...

His foot falls to echo the chill of November deep
Tapping, clapping, wrapping
His man heavy fragility in wool

How distant and suddenly wide is the night.

What shrewd skills fear casts, a mask,
That evening keeps him wary, attentive as wax,

Shadows shed no comfort for this lamb,
His rhythm once lord of the dance
Pulsing toes as eyes flash to every creak and whisper

Depth of sightlessness made paranoid by twisted twilight
Shapes, shifting with the nerves frozen with haste…

His weakness, not knowing, a pallid winter on his face
Even now the slow climb upon his back
Carried by the slip of a breeze laying waste,
The soundtrack of dead leaves and black

His foot falls stomping to clash and map
A stroll as reality saves nothing sincere, when fear
Deepens to his bones resolve and panic...

What genius a weapon: flights of fancy
And the conditioning of youth to preconceive

The hollow of city sidewalks, midnight’s screaming chill
The mouth of alleys he passes ready to swallow him still

Strange and delicate the space between his ears
Defeated before finding a sure foot
Before reaching a well lit street

Familiar and familial suburbs of a mind
Diminished by the subterfuge of fear…

His foot falls turn a corner
And the sound of concrete and conflict

Disappear…
Repost
Ryzeofthepoet Sep 2018
Do I still have your heart?
Alot of the times i wonder
Your voice sounds diminished
Your words are of surrender.
If everything turns sideways
And messaging decreases
Will you still be by my side
When the music finally ceases?
Mark Mar 10
If love does rule the heart, then love's cruel,
Unhappy masters, whom do give to reap;
At play with players bound to loves' duel
But is love none if not to end in weep?
If all must die, then love's a mortal game
And subject then to laws of ash or dust,
Or give this king a lesser kingdom name
Diminished of the land that hearts entrust.
No! Love is life, to bittersweet the death
And followed blind despite the hewn of scythe
And uttered as it were the lasting breath
As tho' to love, is then to carry with.

Love is to live as tho' it weren't to die
But love there none, then one has lived to lie.
Frasier Mar 18
Tears shed from the soul.  Her body pleading for acceptance.  The beauty she possesses yearns to be touched ever so delicately, with longing and passion. Her mind refusing to acknowledge even a miniscule sliver of life, which may contain anything, resembling something other than the love she deserves.  
A stranger observes from afar.  His passion for life diminished by the minds inability to allow its soul the pleasure of being touched by something truly beautiful.  As he watches her beauty and elegance dance with childlike innocence through the night air, his soul begins to shed tears. He approaches her and his heart cannot deny the beauty which is she. Her ambrosial smile and delicate laughter pull the two together and they delicately embrace, hands trembling.  
He touches her nervously but precisely on the face as their eyes meet. Within the stare, they find comfort, acceptance, and passion.  He delicately places a soft, gentle kiss on her face.  She feels tears trickle to her cheek from his…Tears shed from the soul.  -Dennis Frasier
CoolLen Nov 2018
Last night I kissed the butterflies on your back in hopes that they would calm mine.
I held you in my arms to hold myself.
I drummed words of love in your ear hoping the echo of their syllables would be heard in my soul.
Each day you seem grander than life.
What is an ant to a giant.
honey I shrunk my ego.
You haven't grown as I have diminished cause I fear the dark more that I'm confident in your light.. Our light.
I am cut from a different cloth but I'm breaking at the seams.
I need you right now. I need you to tell me who you thought I was.
Tell me lies, cause the truth hurts.
Lyn-Purcell Aug 2018
✿⊰✲⊱✿
The hallway has teal arches with
high grecian columns, each with
gilded gold grapes and vines
entwined, kissed by the light of the
several crystal chandeliers.
With enormous paintings on the
pale blue walls -  several key
moments captured and framed,
and age in no way diminished it's
strokes and vibrancy.

✿⊰✲⊱✿
I remember many times where
I had visited Paul and I
walked around his home,
telling me of his ancestors
achievements with a smile or a
frown on his face. "We can all
learn things from the past," he said
sadly. "And there's always things
done that we are not proud of. I
only want Luciuscemi to thrive."
"With you as King, I have no doubt
it will." I said with a smile and Paul
felt a little better.

✿⊰✲⊱✿
My feet continue to follow the
red carpet to the ball room as me
and my ladies pass many Luciuscemian
guards, all standing tall, lined up yet
all so courteous and friendly; dressed
in yellow military outfits, with red
shoulder capes. When I come upon the
end hall to the entrance of the ballroom,
I cannot help but gasp. Alive with so many
people in so many colours.

✿⊰✲⊱✿
I could see the dining hall in the far back;
lines of tables covered in coloured silks
and with many dishes: sweet, sour and
savoury, meats and vegetables, grilled fish,
glazed ham, veggie rolls and many
fine imported wines, fresh teas and
many more. Large ice sculptures of lions
and suns stand vigilant as the servants serve,
people laugh, eat and talk. Some walked out
to the balcony, some watch others dance;
long and short, this ballroom is an orchestra
for my soul.
Part 6 reuploaded as I was notified that it wasnt seen...
I'll part 6 in two parts for ya! ^-^
Lyn ***
Tryst Jul 2018
And like a bride when all the guests had flown –
Unto her Quarter Master, veil upraised
And corsage strewn atop her lily gown,
The ****** MOON stood humble and unphased

A boon of SUN's light nestled in her tresses,
And HEAVEN's gift, bright star-born chandeliers –
COUTURIER, The Wind, bestowed caresses –
CENTAURUS brought an honour guard of spears

The MOON, her dimples pale, her mood unblemished,
Fell silent as a petal on a flower –
Her slender frame looked ever the more diminished
And wanton as she lay upon her bower

She watched the constellations rearranging
To mark this passing day across the skies,
And full aware that things were ever changing
The MOON laid down her guard and closed her eyes.
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