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Mystic Ink Plus Oct 2018
Once in the blue moon
What if, you can rewrite the history?
He asked

For sure
I'll turn it into a fairy tale
She replied
Genre: Observational
Theme: Soft words, history without blood shed
Darison Strange Aug 2018
Monday, March 19, 2018
1:04 AM

I once loved to laugh,
and though I still do,
hidden beneath the ripple of joy
An echoing scar,
A teardrop of pain.

Once So loud and so free,
things hilarious to me,
Were projected for all to hear,
But now I've reflected on my laughter of past.

Of how many times that laugh was a tool,
to cover the pain caused by all of the fools,
The cruel words that were spoken,
and jokes left me broken,
As they all fell so close to home.

Leaving me weary and wary,
And oh so alone,
I comprised a charm to protect me from harm:
"Fools cant hurt me if I laugh along",
I'll steal their power with one of my own,
I'll laugh the loudest,
and i will laugh last.

While all of the while leaving a piece of it there.
Until one day none was left,
An empty and broken and hollowed out laugh,
A cruel joke of it's glorious past.
A reflection on my childhood of boisterous laughter, and how over the years, I used it as a shield against self doubt, and cruel words, and cheapened my laugh.
Äŧül Sep 13

Just what science required,
Enticed by bioengineering,
Nucleotides it concerned,
Nucleosides it can fix,
Increasing the methods,
For editing genome,
Errors in the genes it fixes,
Righting some wrongs of mother nature.

Decoded by a wonderful lady,
On a day of helplessness,
Utilizing this tool we are now,
Debted by science and technology,
Neat-handed through practice we become,
Always we shall utilize CRISPR-Cas9 for good.

Few people notice that DNA is the suffix of her name.
A poem about something I am working on right now.

Jennifer Anne Doudna and Emmanuelle Marie Charpentier innovated CRISPR-Cas9.

My HP Poem #1770
©Atul Kaushal
Mystic Ink Plus Nov 2018
Most of us
How to memorize
That's not a big deal

Within the core of the heart
Connecting dots
We all remember
What we want
What need to be
What are close

Grant us, the way
How to forget
So that
We could
Praise your glory
Theme: Teach the art of forgetting
patty m Jan 31
Yesterday China shocked the world with its experimentation
of gene editing babies.  
A prominent US doctor took part in this experimentation.  

My daughter asked me, "wasn't it illegal to do this experimentation?

Yes my darling, it is illegal here in the US,  It's very dangerous to experiment on unborn babies or newly born babies, it's a genetic cocktail, and they have no idea of the consequences.    

Yet according to some people and new state laws, they can ****
the unborn or a newly birthed child without a blink of the eye. . There's no consequence or caring, they just ***** out a life.  Then they harvest the child's organs even the skin and sell it.  Quite profitable I hear. 

God bless the babies, who knows what these darlings could have accomplished, now we'll never know.
My granddaughter Abby almost died the day she was born.  She was out of the amniotic fluid and in extreme danger but we didn't know it.  Thank god, Kelly had a meeting for her diabetes that day, she didn't want to go but Mike took her.  When she got there they saw the baby was in extreme distress and performed an emergency operation.  Baby  Abby had to stay in intensive care for weeks with all kinds of scary possibilities hanging over her head .  But she battled through and thrived, How blessed is this gift, I thank God everyday.
Ken Pepiton Dec 2018
Clarifying failed. Spelchek is not on strike.

{clear ification, an ionic bond be tween me and thee,
alienated mind, not mined, crafted
from tactics and strategies
beyond chess.
Player One,
1980's era
proceed with caution.
This trope has trapped many a curious child.
Now, enter the old ones,
Grandfather taught uncle chess so well
he went to the state tournament in Kayenta,
and a grandma was

these, now must learn

minecraft on x-box to be considered
for the real life role of

good at games grand parents
from the time right after atom bombs kicked up dust
places dust had not been in a very long time and
as the dust began to settle

some dust mights was cationic.
Negative bits, they became embedded in the code.
Bumps, fering, coming together
just a knot in a string,
attracting anionic curiosity might

round and round phorward ferring to be
a thread to tie my heart to yours

like twisted Pima cotton thread,
that I pulled from an old sweatshirt
to tie a crow feather in this paho of words filled with old jokes

Making this clear would belie the entire story AI and I know true}

truth is. we agree. no capsokehspaceasneededcommasetal.
caps okeh space as needed commas et al
Did that work? That line

subject of this act fact done, agree to follow,
and I may lead and be

not you, me, dear reader, I mean first true

there is no any if nothing is. So simple some say its sublime beyond the spectrum of ones
and zeros thought on off probably

either or any time time can be accounted for

wouldn't you take a

thought,  nothing,
as it is commonly said to be understandable,

the state of not being, imagine that

the state of not being we negate in being,
unless you are mad and are lost in a whirlwind
such as such voices have been said to

have twisted into threads as
wicks for our lamps
turn floating on
golden oil twisting
wickered into wickering wee shadow fibers
on the western wall for legends to sprout from.

Wickering mare over there, expands us both by my hearing her
you had no idea she was near enough to hear
time is no barrier in actual ever.
What phor can contain me,
whispered my whimsy

Imagine she spoke,
what would she say for what reason
would she say

good good good, I feel good, ha,
I am right, by accident. ever body can feel this good.

good is good.
good is.
Sam Harris, agrees, good as far as good goes, is good
in every vecter from now

the terrain does exist, beyond the moral landscape, to

true true
trust me, I been there.
Been there done that was inserted into the vernacular on my watch,
first summer post war.

matter must not matter as much to me as it does to thee, nestypass? no se?

All jewish boys have chess move metaphors.
(a phor is for containing,
everybody knows, like metaphysics,
after physics in the stack of stackable metadata)

OHMYGOD THE IDW circa 2018 -- who knew I ate this **** up?

[the old code calls for excretion of digested material
from which meaning has been extracted in the idleword accounting processor:
<pre>what if utterance=****, then **** haps, no else then</pre>]

Did that happen? One of my friends told me that happened in Florida, the whole world turned to ****... for lack of a nail a kingdom was lost, they say, little foxes spoil the grapes,
hung chad ex

Pre-expandable ROM, not magic. tech,

pre-infinite imagination? impossible.
and nothing is what is impossible with good as god.

Is there no perfect game?
is the game the session or the life of the user

rerererererererererereroxotoxin, poison pen
ideal viral umph exspelliered
up against the wall

reset. We

kunoon albania omerta oy vey, who could say?
one way better, one way not? quark.
up or down, with variable spins, who can say?

Life's right,
yes. but mo'ons of other something must have been for higgs to ever matter

and it does, I got commas, from 2018.

Are you with me? This is that book I told you I had access…

You or some mind other than mine owned mind, where
my owned peace rests in truth,

otherwise, I know every any or else in the code since I can recall,
in time

if this were a test I swore to take to prove to you
the we can be me in your head

phillipkdicktated clue

if you don't know me by now, maybe we should stop.

Temptations are times. Time things. Time spans, yeah, like bridges

or portals, right
The Internet in One Day, Fred Pryor Resources,
Wu'wuchim 1995.

Ever, not everish or everistic or every, but ever
body knows,
but you.

Catch up. We left all our doors blown off, once we learned that we could blow our own doors off,

there are no open sesames or slips of leth or sibylets

shiba yah you knew all along there was a
song she sang all one and we watched it morph
before our very eyes


The magic stories words may contain, may bear, we must agree

more than we may know, by faith, metagnostic as we see

the sublime gift of the magi
become clear und

be und sein sind both trueture same tu you, we agree.
But. Lock here, no pre 2018 editing codes

validate past last go.
Do one good thing today. That was my goal. Today Part 3 Soyal Hopi Mystery Enactment (called mystery plays). And the intro to Moral Landscape by Sam Harris, led me let ******* write a poem.
Jordan Hudson Sep 2018
I try to release these albums quickly
But time is consumed by all of the editing
As you may know I cannot sing
That's why rapping is my way of expressing
The thoughts that roll through my head
Although my songs may of embedded
False information that has no correlation
To anything I wrote about, but I have no foundation
Oh they mean nothing
Well they do to me
Every other rapper does the same thing
Music in fact is a form of art
Whether it be an instrumental or a song with words, it's all from the heart
It's always been that way from the start
I guess you could argue with a rock brain, but what kind of lame
Explanation is that, I abstain from that insane idea, look at my name
Yeah, look at my name
The Ghibli is what I'm been, referring to the Saharan wind
I bet you didn't think of that so don't clown false kin
And listen to this fantastic and quickly made production
Let's go
My pen name gets made fun of so here is a response to those that do
“many who are first will be last, and the last first.” Mark 10:29

the mixed drink of finance terminology
my stock and trade, or,
used to be anyway, when I was gainfully employed,
intersects with a place I don’t habitually frequent,
seeing as I am an Old Testament kinda guy

dollars to doughnuts,
this errant thought makes me smile,
the devil and me (a/k/a the devil in me)
have a warm milk with KAHLÚA,
in the dead of night, across the kitchen table,
doing repartee and bad poetree
and biblical textual emendation
on the verse in question

having been present, the devil likes it just the way it is,
but the old nitpicking me always thinking,
a little editing makes the ‘milk’ go down easier,
suggests a reversal of emphasis:

the last shall be first,
for many who are first, will be last

less threatening and the point better made

lead with your right, taught my boxing master,
and the last shall be first is
very right

you see, many call me,
the lender of last resort
which is true enough,
but my preference is best
when addressed as

lender of the first resort
Violet Nov 2017
I do always love writing a lot:
usually just poems and stories.
I'd need to think nice thought(s),
with many just good categories!

Writing is really, just so fun for me:
I do actually write, then, everyday!
People have told me I’m "whoopee",
and so that has me think to say "yay"!

Whenever I write, I would smile,
with valuable logic in mind.
I usually grin at any my file(s),
seeing them being very kind!

I actually love editing as well,
so I have asked on Facebook.
People have correct words, swell;
so now I feel off of the hook!
This poem is in ABAB form and has 100 words as well, as my other works do.
matilda shaye Mar 2014
i think too much and i don’t sleep enough i don’t want this to be organized i don’t want there to be correct punctuation i want to stop editing for a few minutes or maybe a few months so i can write what i’m actually thinking everything i say is masked by something else i can never get what i’m really feeling down i cannot always grasp how empty i feel into words and i cannot always force chills to take over your body by talking about her sometimes the only thing that’s going to come from my mouth is the muffled sounds of my crying and sometimes the only thing that my hands will be able to make is the sound of the door slamming i don’t think anyone realizes how hard these things hit me i don’t think you get the extremities of my words this doesn’t feel ok and neither does you saying i'm good with my words in that tone of voice as if i am manipulating you by simply speaking but it isn’t necessarily rewarding that someone is clapping as my heart is breaking on these pages it isn’t exactly fair that one day people will dance along the highway to every insecurity I feel
sometimes I want this to break your heart i’m incapable of slowly stuttering out my feelings i scream them at you i force these words out of me with no problem at all and i'm sick of it because now you know way too much
Maddy Jul 27
What you hear and what you listen to
are world's apart
What you take away is another story
You pick your fights
SElf Editing becomes a talent you hone
Keep your friends close and enemies closer
Frenemies need not apply
Sometimes they are the same but you have to learn that
Then when you least expect it many things make themselves clear
Just remember that every moment is a learning opportunity
You should never ever stop learning
Advice to you is to remember that because when it does
You are no longer on this khaki coil
Keep your feet on the ground even when you are soaring

[email protected]
Alexander T Sep 2018
over and over
I think about someday
When I will see you again
When I can kiss your smooth skin
feel the warmth of your heart
Every second
is filled with your spirit
I still have questions though
guess I am just too messed up
but do you really love me
I know you have proved you do
many times
I told you everything
you still love me
I hope im enough
I dont feel like it
last night I asked
"am I worth your love"
"yes, I wouldnt love you otherwise"
well, I love you
I dont know if I have proved that enough
I know that me still wanting to die sometimes
that must feel horrible
Baby im sorry
I still fantasize
I still remember
all of our warm hugs
all of out tears
all of our love
I think of what we had and have
it is so unique
just like you
you are perfect to me
I think of sleeping next to you
I get so many butterflys
my everything gets so warm
even right now
as im writing this
no editing
this is all from the heart
I love you.
karen champagne Sep 2018
Ink in hand.
Circling, circling, circling
Blank mind but so many thoughts
Remember the past
Faith for the future
Joyous words
But sad underneath
Write what you feel
No editing
Like a paintbrush in your hand
With only one color
Color of white
No words to write
Wring your hands
Dry as sandpaper
Thoughts roll in and roll out
Yet my paper is blank
Big Virge Sep 2016
"Order, Order !
We will have ORDER !!!
Order in the court !
or, the doors to this court
will be closed to cohorts !"

" Order "... is the call
within... our courts of law

Well here's...
Big Virges'... view...
of how these laws
will... Surely... be used...
and what... these laws...
will finally... Do... !!!

You see...

" Order's "...
being... " Summoned "...
in the... " Lords "...
and in... " The Commons "...

and... " The Cure "... to...
Current Problems ...
is seen as ... " Martial Law "... !!!

Police will now ... ENFORCE ...
without ... " Probable "... cause ... !!!

" Stops "... and ...
" Searches "...

upPED on ... Corners ...

What's their purpose ... ?
... " Public Order "...

But .....
Cameras on streets ... ?

CCTV ...... !?!

Isn't that meant to ...
" Keep The Peace "... ?!?

" OKAY, they're there
to make movies !
So, what's the deal ?
Can you paint the scene ? "

"Sir, move along please
your act's been seen,
our decision, you'll receive,
once you've been screened,
at the end of the week,
with your, Charge Sheet !
When it comes, answer truthfully,
because any deceit, may well
result in penalties, with no release,
especially if, we have to cheat
by using, yes, our editing team !"

You see ...
That's the ... " Trick "... !!!

So ... take these words ... " IN "...
and ... Read them ... CLOSELY ...
cos' these words ... Run DEEP ... !!!

Our lives ... BELIEVE ME ... !!!
are now on ... " Floppys' " ...
... Micro-Chips ...

and Drives named ... (C:)

So ...
What is humanity's ... destiny ... ???

Technology ....
Patrolling ... our streets ...

Armies ... of police ... !!!

Freedoms. .................................................... obsolete .... !!!!
for those ... wanting ... Peace ...

Sounds like a movie ...
I've seen of ... Armies' ... ???

" OH NO ... it's T3 !!! "

" ORDER is "... The Key ...

Restriction of ... Rights ...
to simply be ... FREE ... ?!?

Violence ... from our streets ... !!!!!

I'm YES ... A Supporter
of ... " Public Order "...

Let partying tribes ...
INDULGE in ... " Good Vibes "...

But .....
What kind of party ... ?
sees people ... Pull Knives ... !?!
or call for ... " Gunfights "... ?!?!?!?

But let's ...
NOT TELL ... " Lies "... !!!

Crime is ... on the rISE ... !!!

Crimes of ... ALL TYPES ... !!!
from ... Corporate Crimes ...
to young ... " Homicides "... !!!!

But .....
Ask yourself ... " WHY "... ?

Is it because ... ?
The young are now ..................................... Lost ....... ?!?

or ....
Could it be ... THIS ... ???

Highlighting ... Young Fights ...
as if .... EVERY NIGHT ...
Another kid ... DIES ... !!!

May simply ... "FIT IN"...
with Agendas ... Contrived ...
to simply ... Keep Minds ...
AFRAID ... and ... " DENIED "...
of living ... their lives ...
just like the ... " Rich Guys "...

" Directors "... who Earn ... ?
from ... " Fraudulent "... work ...

How many of them ?
will face ... " Stop and Search "... ?!?

Those in ... Governments ...
and ... " Corporate "... Hybrids ...
whose parties are ... "PRIVATE"... !!!!

with much ... " Nicer Climates "...

ENJOYING ... themselves... !!!
because of ... " Their Wealth "...
with women who ... " Sell "...
Their bodies like ... " SHELL "... !!!!
have done with ... " Oil Wells "... !!!!!

" Take Time ".....................................
Think it ... through..................................

But ....
Here's some more clues ....
as to why ... I Now Choose ...
to ... " Today "... take this view ...

Youth have died ... " Early "...
For YEARS ... on streets ...

But back then ... WEREN'T Worthy... ?!?
of ... PRIMETIME TV ...

But Now ... THEY ARE ... !?!

Terrorists .... are at Large ... !!!
is now the ... BENCHMARK ...

That's what's being ... " Used "...
to fill .... TV News ....

and ... " Sadly "... ABUSE ...
our LOST ..... WaYwArd ... youth ... !!!

Will .... " Eton "...
and ... " Harrow "...
REALLY SEE ... " Stop and Search "... ?!?!?

It seems ...
kind of ... " shallow :"...
to think ... They'll ... " Concur "...

Do ... " The Rich ...
have a ... THIRST ... ?
to walk with ... What HURTS ... !?!

Guns and Knives .....
amongst the ... " Rich Types "... ???

Why would they ... do that ... !?!
in ... " Daddy's New Pad "... !!!!!!

I guess what i'm saying ...
is ... " Stop and Search "... BLATANT ... !!!!!

is MOSTLY ... for blacks ... !!!!!!

"Well, blacks do the killing !
Which is shown now, to millions !
Everyday, all over the place !
So, answer that Virge !"

is what ...
" They "... will say ... !!!

Those who feed ... LIES ...
into minds and ... " Numb Brains "...

Those who ... DON'T THINK ...
BEYOND Links ... in the ... " Chain ".... !!!

The ... " New Order "... Preys ...
on ... Ignorant Strays ... !!!...

NOT those ... on streets ... !!!
but those who ... Compete ...
for a piece of ... " Their Cake "...

that has a ... FOUL TASTE ... !!!!!!

We will have ORDER !!!"

" Must have ORDER ?
Man, just hold your corner ! "

Who exactly are ... " They "... ???
to treat people like ... " Game "... !?!

What makes you think ... ?
that they can train ...
the brain of a ... " Pig "...
to actually ... THINK...
and NOT behave ...
like some ... " Supremacist "... !!!
who's just ... Too **** ... QUICK ...
to suspect a kid ...
because of his ... Colour ... !!! ? !!!

" RACIST Mother F..... !!!!! "

"Order ... ORDER ...
You're out of order !!!"

" OUT OF Order ?!?
Are you a Coc' Snorter ?
I'm not a Big Baller,
or Gangsta' shot caller !
I'm just a straight talker
who's CRISP, just like Walkers',
when airing my views, about
Real Issues, that clearly confuse
and are used to abuse, our right to,
yes, choose, when and with whom,
we choose to make moves !

How would you like ?
to have THAT, done to you ?

My name AIN'T, Jack Horner !
Why should I be cornered ?
Searched and questioned
in the name of nonsense ! "

It's all a pretence,
to turn people against,
those they ... Don't Hate ... !!!

but ... each day ...
have to face,

from ... Council Estates ...
within the ... UK ...
to Projects ... They Blame ...
in the ... United States ...

These issues relate ...
and yes ... Correlate ... !!!

So .....
DON'T MAKE ... Mistakes ... !!!
and ... Mis-Read ... " The Game "...

What's happening ... There ...
is coming ... BEWARE ... !!! ...

Just think of it ... " This Way "...
George ... and ... Tony Blair ...........

They told you ... A WAR ...
was coming ... For SURE ... !!!!!

So ...
What'd you think ... NOW ... ?!?

Has ... THE WAR ...
Reached ... " Your Door "... ?!?

Or ...
Do you feel ... " Clowned "... ?

Or ...
Are you ... like me ... ?

A ... " Public "... ENEMY ... !!!

Who'll face men in ... " Gowns "...
because ... when I speak ...
I do so ... FREELY ... !!!! ...

and ... NO ...
WILL NOT ... Stand down ... !!!

" Order "...
is the call ...
as I said ... Before ... !!!

But ....
What is it ... for ... ???

for the ... " Weak "...
and the ... " Poor "...

NOT TO ... Fight anymore ... ?!?

or simply for ... " Borders "...
to keep them from ... " Hoarders "...
and ... " Midnight Marauders "... !!!!!!!

and TRUE LIFE ... Reporters ...
whose views they want ... "cornered"... !?!

because of ...
Their call ... to ... ENFORCE ...

.... " Public Order ".....

Listen Here :
My vision from some 8 years ago, of where we were headed, and sadly, much that I thought, has and sadly, continues to come to pass ..... These words are not those suitable for weak hearts, or those who like to play the well .... Y'all

Listen Here :
ColtonC Mar 2
Raindrops on your pillow.
The steady
pitter patter.
No cats or dogs
Thunder, lightning
Storm clouds.
In fact
the room shines like the Cross.
Radiant, warm
And yet
darkness still leaks through the floorboards
like water.

Red raindrops
On the carpet,
In the sink
Soak into the paper
like ink left to drown.
Not fiery red, anger has
drained away. Little left.
But rose red, sense of sadness.
It's silent.

Does water hit your screen?
Fizzle, and burn?
Shallow water,
like the feeling of loneliness,
the emptiness of guilt.
Are your tears real?
Or fake, forced
Dry and shallow
A mirage, eyes open
Seeking attention, love?
Likes on Instagram.

Their tears hit my pillow
Lying in the dark, alone
but for One.

Not sitting with friends
forcing them to come
Eyes dry as the desert.

Not editing an essay
Perfectly constructed
Posted to your followers.

But the dead feeling, it's inside
Only you can see it, touch it
It's silent. Lonely. Shallow.
Like water.
Written 28/02/2019
My first poem
Inspired by a recent experience and that of others
The sadness which comes with guilt
Any feedback is appreciated
Rowan Sep 2018
Start with a word, any word.
And then a year later you might find a hundred pages.
A story just begun, a tale, that, in reality, needs some editing.
But I didn’t find myself in these pages I’d written, like the inspirational quotes say.
I found my characters, I found a few bad habits too,
Like how I bite my fingers as I stare at my computer in frustration,
Or stare at the wall in blank fixation.

Once the word is picked, don’t bleed out onto the screen,
Hold yourself together, else you won't have to lips to pour forth a single key.
Some old dude told you to bleed, didn’t he?
I’ve found, I don’t bleed until page 71,
When I have bonded with Jonathon,
And now I must watch him mourn his fiancee,
Who never got to propose.

Be careful about your planning. Too methodical,
And you’ll lose yourself in the untold parts,
Too spontaneous and you’ll see your story turned from
An epic dragon escape to a horror filled romance.
Find a medium of crazy that suits you, and remember the details
Of the night you tried marijuana and coughed as the smoke hit your throat.

Hug the computer tight, don’t let anyone see
Until you’ve determined the story strong. Some people open up at the blank page,
While others hide it away until it’s a polished four hundred and sixty two, front and back.
Say, here’s an idea—don’t forget to study your grammar too.
Unless, of course, you’re poetry demands to be free,
then flow round the corner and hesitate not with commas
theyll be no use for you.

After all this advice, I’ll tell you one thing.
Forget all of it, it’ll be nothing to you.
We storytellers like to go on and on about how to write,
When we barely ever write a real story of characters in between speeches.
If the only thing I could tell you, the only important fact I can say with utter certainty is,

For god’s sake,

Posted up on a bar stool, I noticed the instant he walked in.
Blue eyes beckoning. I was listening. Hard.

Liquidly courageous, delightfully obscure and entertaining,
I bewitched him in conversation.
Filled his empty pint with my pitcher of Yuengling.
Stealing and donning his sweaty hat.
He had just finished art school.
I was studying journalism.

He kept finding reasons to touch me.
Blocking me from human traffic.
Keeping me close and safe physically.
At one point, some drunken, oblivious, d-bag tried to holler.
He moved between, cockblocking.
Unwavering in eye contact and speech with me.
I can’t remember what we talked about, only how it felt.

He got my number, and we stayed until the bar closed.
And as all the carbon contents poured into the back alley,
he grabbed my hand.
I remember the sweat and energy on his slender fingers.
He was pushing past palpable trepidation.
And in the midst of a hundred swarming,
he yanked my hand toward him and kissed me.
People started cheering.
It was perfect.

Except, I freaked.
Froze. Stopped breathing.
Pulled away as far as his hand would allow.
He reeled me back in for another try.
When I brushed his lips, the panic devoured.
So I pulled away harder, breaking free from his fingers.
Fleeing, scurrying through a sea of drunken bodies.
I shimmied like a silver lure dangling in his face.
Then shot him the-****-down. Twice.

He never called me. But pocket-dialed me the next day.
Left an unintended voicemail. Heard him bemoaning, *I felt SO stupid…

Called him back a few minutes later. Didn’t leave a message.
I could have called again. I didn’t. Ever.

I thought about him every day for months,
inspiring one of my better poems of that era:
A Roller Coaster Ride Ending in Derailment.
Years later, I friended him on MySpace, sent a generic message.
He didn’t recognize me. And I never said anything.
Like a ******* coward.

How is it possible to excitedly charge in a cardinal direction,
only to smack abruptly into:

I’ve had a little time, say 14 years,
to reflect on what made me me run,
and I think it was this:
as soon as he was facing me,
with unadulterated adoration,
all I could feel was terrified and ugly.
It was so good. Far too good for me.

I was afraid. Afraid he would eventually see.
That I was hideous. He wouldn’t want the real me.
I didn’t think I could live up to the look in his eyes.
When he saw I was only a spunky, confident model on the cover,
and an insecure shitshow amidst contents inside, he would leave.
A fragile little girl so afraid she is unlovable, unworthy, ugly.
When he saw how uncomfortable I could be in my own skin,
he would let go.
I didn’t like me, so why the **** should he?
I ran from connection that night, after tilling it for hours.
Hauling *** with windows down,
I slammed the brakes and careened. End scene.
He reeked of bliss and impending heartbreak.
So I abandoned him before he could leave.

I’m frightened of anyone who truly stirs me.
It makes me feel big, scary feelings. They straitjacket hug me.
Skewing all my outward signals. I come off standoffish.
Pushing away the very thing I want and need.
I’m not good at expressing intense feelings in real time.
Except in ink. And bed.

I get locked up inside. Feels like I’m gonna die.
A fight-or-flight ignition by erroneous head triggers.
I project my unlovable feelings onto others,
in the face of blatant evidence to the contrary.

I’ve done LTRs, just not with the required equipment.
I know the gears are sabotaged out the gate,
but I go for it anyway. It’s safe (or so it seems). And empty.
I crave intimacy, but I’m terrified of showing up entirely.
In front of someone with eyes that can see.
I quickly sense who is capable of meeting me,
and thoroughly **** it up for myself,
by not feeling free. Not authentic. Not open. Hiding.
Editing. Hot fish, cold fish. Rotating masks. Blockades. Running.
Constantly scanning the environment for signs of rejection,
that I’m not enough, indeed. To validate my own self-worthlessness.
I wanna be right.
I’ve only done long terms where I can remain alone, bored and/or dead.
No real intimacy. No full disclosure. No BAMF duo status.
No seeing to the back of each other’s skulls.
No blasting through the cosmos.

I freeze and evade in the face of what I crave.
Shunning delicious plates I’ve just ordered and ravenously drooled over.
I have more examples, but this is the most concise and blatant...

Except, this one time:

I told my gut to shut the **** up,
while I cosigned utter inner *******.
Denied the eyes of my own soul,
as it floated into my periphery.
It took all of my focus just to breathe.

He didn’t turn around,
just looked over his shoulder.
At me. Up, then down.
And drifted away.
Electrocuting my cosmic antennae.
Leaving me reeling. Still tingling.

I almost called your name,
but doubt surrounded fear mountain.
Plus, I thought I was jus straight trippin, err, trollin.
Going crazy. Weaving my own alteration atop reality.
Pretty pro @ that yuh know...

We push and pull and run and chase,
because it feels safer pursuing what’s out of reach.
Until it turns around.
Or looks over its shoulder...

With eyes that can see.
maybe we need a few less chairs, as we have some mutual guests:
Mystic Ink Plus Nov 2018
If one can’t
Make a child to smile

My apology

That life needs
Some editing
Genre: Abstract
Theme: Vibration never deceive
Em MacKenzie Jan 20
I’m a written and published open book,
you just have to read past the first chapter.
You skimmed the pages and took a look
at the last line to see if there was a happily ever after.
But like most things it’s up to interpretation,
left open ended in way for a hopeful sequel,
‘cause like all things true it’s plagued with complication,
but our story has no end and it has no equal.

And you, you were my favourite memoir,
your depth lined the thesis of a never ending essay.
I became inspired so I held an impromptu seminar,
a whole panel to if your picture was sepia or artistically grey.
I memorized every single thing you said,
every cryptic metaphor, every perfect rhyme.
I’ve lost count of how often that I’ve fully read,
and I still don’t understand after all of this time.

You’re a novel and I’m a novelty,
but you need a title; what should it be?
I’ve been writing you so that the whole world can see,
the way you shine bright effortlessly.

You were my own personal thesaurus and dictionary,
providing different words to dress up each thought.
You’re a first and only edition; what a rarity,
laced with metaphors and satire that’s barely caught.
You’re what Shakespeare aspired to always write,
and you accomplished it simply by being born.
I’d translate you to brail so those without sight,
could hear about you and the beauty they now mourn.

You’re a novel and I’m a novelty,
no need to proofread, no cause for editing.
I’ve been writing you so that the whole world can see,
the way you shine bright, always illuminating.

I’m a prologue,
and we’re the conclusion.
My authors note; the words of a demagogue,
but the details still lack any illusion.

You’re a novel and I’m a novelty,
I’ve memorized every word and dissected them cautiously.
I’ve been writing you so the whole world can see,
and once they skim the synopsis; they’ll never stop reading.

You can do it, anyone can write a love poem. First, decide you want to do it, then get something to write on, pencil or computer, and begin. Do it anytime, anywhere, whenever you have a few minutes to contemplate. View the ability to do so as a treat, for it will be fun to navigate emotion via words, akin perhaps to working a crossword puzzle as you fish for just that word or turn of phrase that gives meaning. It is challenging and exciting to find that rhyme that works.  It helps to have a strong vocabulary, but just knowing the language is all you really need. Some of the greatest poems ever created are utterly simple in the language used.
Metaphors and similes are always welcome additions to poems and utilize onomatopoeia, alliteration and assonance whenever possible. Using these tools delights the eyes and ears.
Put your mind at ease and enjoy and appreciate having the time and ability to create and think about life’s most precious gift. Start with a phrase or thought that has come to mind upon which you’d like to expand. (I have a collection of these I call upon when I’m looking for inspiration.) Focus on the what, why and how of love and its meaning to you. You can write about your feelings for someone you know or with whom you are in a relationship. Or, perhaps, you will be writing in a fictional context drawing from your own experience or from hopes and dreams. Is there someone you miss, or to whom you wish to be closer?  It helps to have someone to think about, but it’s not necessary.
There is no formula for a love poem, it can be free verse, a sonnet, or one of a myriad of rhyme schemes. When I write, I just start writing and words and rhymes just flow. It’s somewhat like riding a bicycle. It’s not that hard to learn, you can go faster and faster in any direction you want. The more you write, the easier it becomes stylistically,  
There are many kinds of romantic love:  those of longing for or missing someone special, and the contented, satisfying type when it’s really going well, among other variations. You’ll never be at a loss for inspiration. I get ideas from the newspaper, comments in conversation, and much of the time, out of thin air. So many times I’ll write a first line, not knowing where the poem will go, and lines come, one after the another, as if on a scavenger hunt. Then, voila, I have a perfectly formed little verse that is just right, at least to my eyes.
Writing has a salutary, therapeutic effect. Grappling with words and emotions in the context of love is invigorating contemplation which can assist in resolving thorny, important issues facing the poet. The problem may not be solved, but perhaps it may be defined. This is your opportunity to get back at a someone who hurt you in a failed romance. You’ll feel better after doing so and no one will ever have to know you really feel or how you were so hurt. When you do share your poems with others and loved ones, you’ll be gratified at the reaction and the recipient will be thrilled to have been the object of such affection.
Write for yourself, satisfy yourself first.  Poems are personal and can remain private forever, so don’t worry about being embarrassed about what you write. Get it down.  You don’t have to show it to anybody. However, once created, maybe you will want to. Love is about sharing, devotion, friendship. Writing poetry has gotten me through much sadness, given me goals, and been endlessly pleasing to my psyche over the years.
Be spare in your writing, don’t use any unnecessary words. There is elegance in simplicity.  It is in the editing that the poem truly comes alive. Doing a good polish is to eat the icing on the cake.
Once you start writing poetry, you will never stop. It’s addicting and just a great way to use time wisely. You will amaze yourself with what comes out of your mind and heart. It’s a process, writing, and will exercise your mind and bring much pleasure.  
Start today.
Some of you may find this helpful.
An Optimist’s Guide to Falling in Love With a Woman

have a very minor fender ******, you’ll never get a persons digits any easier, consider it a bonus first date, a stress test interview, when humans on their worst/best behavior, their true nature revealed and tough exteriors melt when gallantly take full responsibility, details to be discussed over dinner

risks: she’ll  will never ever let you drive her, even after, no...never ever after, the issue is closed, ‘twas your fault and is non-discussable

critique her order standing behind her at McDonald’s. blowback assured! charm resistance and openness will be tested, but you claim pure concern for her well being, even after offering to pay  a dollar for every calorie ingested if she only switches to a plant-based burger

risks: hamburger grease soul staining, no love stain stick remover handy and everybody knows mixed marriages really never work tween bronco busting cowgirls and city tree huggers

you take a spill, nose in the phone crossing street, she lifts you up with wonder woman strength and gentility, you sputter with half-feigned indignation for you’ve embarrassedly first sight-fallen in love, all your words and everything else is failing and flailing as she tends to the cut, drives you to her office where she stitches you up, while cracking jokes that are truly funny

risks: she is a Dallas Cowboy fan, or worse, someone else got there first, and you need life long therapy

she’s in seat 10C, Miami to NYC, pretending very poorly to not be reading this very story-poem you’re creating, but doing so VERY poorly because she is editing, making suggestions, punching you in the arm excitedly, asking if you want to share a cab home, for she reveals that she too, secretly dips the quill in ink and needs an expert opinion, yours for sure since you’re SO good looking too!

risks: the weather diverts the plane to Baltimore where you live together happily after-ever, cause you’re both tired of life in cities with 3-13 perennial losing NFL teams and it is exquisitely equidistant from your annoying relatives
and ex’s

Baltimore Washington International Airport
4:29 pm Dec. 2nd
Orangey so tangy loosely
her words flowery so
rustic fun  ******  
the panic straight
jacket going ginger
snaps her ticket
Pocketful of sunshine
in your pocket

****** the maestro
In the stars of the cosmos

On the edge but earthly
Let's go slow
Did we miss the
whole entire glow
"So Tickle me Pink"
The stardust funds
of the trust
Having a light fuse
The picturesque
Fields so mystique personality
Lights up unique

Your word against mine
In a matter of fact were in
It's your cue waves pull me in

If so the sky does it remain
always blue such a variety
Of cookies no outrageous
Time for Oreos
What's inside its outside
Cleopatra's eyes snap away
Like a masquerade
Don't rain on my parade
Love of Virginia innocently
Love is the drug

Scrapes on her knees
The western front
Ginger Snaps
Those bottle caps and buzzing
honey bees Tangerine trees
Galavant like General Lee
Ginger the gunslinger
She's the singer
eating Saralees

Whats to boot
But getting closer
To the naked eye
to the surface be wise
"Owl Hoot"
So lovely genuinely
He's husky and ruly
Apps Gingersnaps
Exchanging cat naps

Her lips in higher
states of trips

Trying to get there
Bohemian Rapsody
The Queen of the
Photo editing Unicorn pony
Another brainless wedding
We are the champions
What a snitch like a witch
Bad luck switch the lion's den
Topiary timeless good luck Zen
Loud sirens
Drug trafficker morons
The plastic Surgeons
Backstabber persons

Blue jeans snap taking a
Sniff Shiba Uni howls
To be loved in beauty
My Mom Judy good
earth bounty

Tall and sleek every week
Smells of Ginger
no danger
The earth on her cheeks
Can love be any truer  
Into the Gala the apple
of her eye never goodbye
Sweet baked goods putting food the way love to the end of her fingertips should let go, Ginger, snaps
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