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Nat Lipstadt Aug 2018
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The Instigation:
Edmund  Black, commenting on “weary weighted,”

I agree with Kim; This is poetry at its best :)“

<•>

both of you shush!

there is no “better” in poetry

mine yours theirs, alive or not,

just gasps tears and blood
whimsical smiles and isles
cuts and burns of pained revelations,
hidden in fog,
that words try to delete away,
through the shrouded mists of
human tissues,
unconstrained by the
bounded shape
of the human cell,
our first, our own
self-imposed jail

tissue, too,
baby soft, or,
purple beating majestic bruised blotches
by those weaklings whose
kindness never
fully developed;  
or old man mine whose
skin cells erodes, so poems and light
weary weighted, lightly flake off
for your “betterment”
mostly tho for worse

good humans all await,
in patientce lightly hidden,
residents of dark sunspots
in the glaring existence exposer
of the unlit lighthouse whose time will come

they get it

how we get there unimportant

get there

GET THERE

get there
that is the poetic
mission critical

no path best or style preferred-
no compare just, but,
any path that
lifts and elevates,
to the commonplace


the common place

where all costarred, universal,
where common is the temple mount
of highest praise, holy smoke rising,

a place that
that discloses and closes,
is scribed/described honestly as
a connective,
which is the simplest
successive

call my poems,
blessedly common!

that an honorable,
so gladly accepted
and
so much more meaning-full
than merely best or better



for that,
I’d gladly weep,
for no praise
ever been
bettered





8/2/18 406pm
on the jitney to my isle
the instigation: Edmund black › “weary weighted, I agree with Kim .... This is poetry at its best :)“
Why try when ya can buy?
I made like seventy comments.
Yeah he donated tweenty bucks and has more
points than I.

Respect dont come with the side of a card.
It's not totally broke.
But to demolish it were trying hard.

Mr Robbins can you just please keep your
mouth shut.
we'll buy ya a case of wild turkey
you drunk *** pain in the but.

Point and poetry really dont mix.
what is this nascar?
Nothing that some strong drinks cant fix.

The doors are locked  lets semd in a spy
to see whats going on in that joint.
Hey i just  won at beer pong  
did that get a point?

Were all  about exposer so get your beads.
Avoid the restrooms at the Pub.
look  in the red light district of hello
cause everyone's got needs.

I gotta point for logging in and  one for
coloring within the lines.
And got no license  for like
few thousand dollars in unpaid fines.

Heres a point for me.
And heres a point for you.
With the ******* a few
fellow poets did point and said they were threw.

Yet here i stay slightly sober
happy to stir the ****.
That  i refuse to play the game.
Hey how many points do i get to quit?

Drinks are always on the house at HPs
number one joint.
And if ya waste time getting  anry with
me then ya really didnt get the point$
Hey  ya know what a great poet once said  girls  just wanna have fun.
Okay  maybe that doesnt make  much sense  but really
who wants  to cuddle?  
200 points im just saying  hahah  cheers Gonzo
brandychanning Jun 2020


neglect and respect do not rhyme,

{will grant you one,
will give you none.

will demand one,
will send you some.

you poets,
always thinking
you can get away
with murdering
the English language.

***** of assonance,
you do not fool me,
I’ve killed a thousand
men’s “original”rhymes,
while you’ve been
fast sleeping,
they’ve been
fast seeping.

I’ll give you no quarter,
won’t spare a lousy dime,
my spare change,
is poet-unaffordable,
cheap suited hucksters.

work and ****
do rhyme.  
you can be one,
if you do not
put in some.

work by day,
slave by night.

awake to the sun’s
inquiry, what have
you done for me
lately?

IF

all you have to show is this
scribbilus miscellaneous,
tear up your lice-ence,
poetic and DMV, you
ain’t going nowhere.

was branded by hot iron,
early on,
brandy channing.

your best nightmare,
guidance counselor,
extraordinaire,
great big fairie,
poseur, exposer,
m u r d e r e r
of awful poetry}


WHAT,  
what do you stand for?
neglect and respect
rhyme,
you stand
RH 78 Oct 2015
Forever etched in the mind.
You.
Perfect pure beauty.
All consuming.

Forever etched into the mind.
You and me.
Timeless love.
Fleeting glances.

Forever etched into the mind.
Me and you.
Undiscovered love.
Sleepless nights.

Forever etched into the mind.
Us.
True love.
Endless.

Forever etched into the mind.
Him.
Unknown but destructive.
Weakness exposer.

Forever etched into the mind
You and him.
Heart break.
Emptiness.
I learnt the harshest lesson in love..... Never take it for granted! This is a summary of my first true love which I thought would last forever. How wrong could I be!! She ran off with her boss from work!!!

My perception of love has changed over the years and believe it to be a transitional journey which is fluid. It's healthy to reflect on past experiences. We're only human after all and all make mistakes.

Masterpieces are not made without the artist having the odd smudge!
This is my first love smudge.
Lucas Pilleul Jun 2017
-  J'aimerai t'embrasser comme le ciel embrasse les nuages.
T'observer comme le renard observe sa proie.  
Et je voudrai te dévorer comme l'ogre dévore les Hommes.

- Je préférerai m'enfuir, me cacher dans les feuillages.
T'oublier, ecraser mes souvenirs comme les herbes qu'on broie.
Et je souhaiterai ne plus jamais te revoir, en somme.

- Oublies tu ces journées entières passées en ma compagnie ?
Ces belles matinées, voir se lever le soleil.
Et ces soirées, où je te regardais l'espace d'un instant.
Où tu pensais à l'avenir, à notre vie future.

- Crois tu que je renie mon passé, quelle est cette manie ?
Ce sentiment inexplicable, tu sais je te surveille.
Et cette idée insupportable que tu gardes indéfiniment,
Qui consistait simplement à m'exposer, comme une peinture.

- Vois tu, bien que bonne, soit l'étendue de ton âme,
Je ne puis imaginer autre fin à cette terrible histoire.
La folie n'a pas de corps, mais tu n'es que furie.
Emplie de jalousie, de vanité, comment puis-je m'en défaire ?

- Sais tu au moins si réel est ce drame ?
Tes reproches, je m'en fou bien, tu manques de mémoire.
Folie sans corps et furie sans nom, Pardi !
Qu'en est il de ta déviance affolante ? Peuchère !

- Une fois la chose dite, jamais tu ne pourras la retirer.
Sais tu au moins de quoi je t'ai sauvée ?
La reconnaissance l'oublie tu, si pas même tu acceptes tes erreurs
Un jour viendra ou tu seras obligée de te débrouiller sans moi.

- En toi je n'ai jamais eu la foi !
Je vois que tu as toujours l'esprit farceur.
Si un jour de la noyade tu m'avais retirée,
M'en souviendrais-je sans doute.

                                                         ­ - C'était un soir d'été,
Quelle honte m'infliges-tu là !
Si un jour j'avais su qu'on en finirait ainsi,
Jamais avec toi je serai parti.

- Crois tu que j'étais avec toi par bonté ?
Mon seul but était d'éviter chez moi le pugilat.
Entre nous il n'y avait même pas d'amour
Cette histoire me fait trop de peine, finissons en un jour
#10
David Johnson Nov 2013
As a quiet exposer of poetry,
I fantasize an enigma of colors.
A transition of calculated emotions,
From memories woven to the brain,
As a quilt, would be.

I have written on stones & brick.
Hoping somebody knew,
That I was there, once upon a time.

We were bred to defend & protect,
A kindness,
Crafted so rare,
To shield the good,
From Evil & it's hidden agenda.

It is I,
Who knows how we fix ourselves.
How we get justice,
For failed attempts to try.

How to restore faith,
In the lighthouses & buoys, out on the ocean,
With only a constant dance with the currents.

How to,
Enable ourselves,
To look another in the eye,
& see them for who they are.

And simply die & live
As the purest blue-blood.
jeffrey conyers Aug 2016
If , you be quiet.
You get ahead.
Be quiet and play the game.

Another word for don't rock the boat.
Be a cover-up instead an exposer.

Strange truth, this has help many rise through all ranks of society.

Presidents, mayors, governors, wardens, secretaries, various executives.
Fear, to be true to themselves.
Then again, bills help you to be quiet.

Even when you see wrongs before your very own eyes.

Whistleblowers, don't tell to tell.
Many only does it for the wealth.
And if looked a little closer at one time they was participants.


Going along with the schemes of an evil mind dreams until they got terminated.

Stay, not silent if right.
Truth stands out at all times.
Sipping on that juice
You are tripping
Screaming and laughing all at once
I'm flying getting my game on
Mystifying you be wearing your *** kicking boots
Smoking one, putting that roach in a jar
Popping vicodin  just to stay alive
Not even sure if I exist
Selling Adderall's so the ******* can stay skinny
Sweet little boy shot down on his big wheel bike
All I can do is grab the mic and send the message on
People on the street begging for money for addictions
******* **** just to get high
What if that was your daughter?
Hoping the soup kitchen is open
Do they have a empty bed for me to sleep tonight
Dressing in color
It's a true story this town is in demise
The water is not even safe to drink
Lake Huron to the Flint river
The town showing no love
Then Rick Snyder declares a state of emergency
The first person to come forward Sasha Bell
Was found murdered in her home as her small one year old son was left to roam
She had a law suit against the Flint water crisis
She is now silenced a baby without a mother
Nobody is winning here
90 people were sickened from exposer 12 died    
Delivering  bottle water to Veteran's, as they are losing there homes
People who have worked there whole lives
People just trying to survive
I grew up in lower Michigan and my family and friends are directly effected by the water crisis. .I know the town is a mess. The crime rate the shootings of innocent people/ I would love to see Flint be what I remember as a child.
mike merrifield May 2018
The vices which have been pulling me down,
From a life existence of which i had live before
The ill forsaken twist of the mind  has taken me under the spell of which I now endure
My death is soon
End time
Killing the swine of man kind
No more the riches that lie in their Vanity with prescriptions of a farewell existence of a twisted surveillance
hidden between the reality and the profanity of the mind that’s been hearing the deliberate words of certain messages delivered which sounds absurd…..
……such displeasing details the thoughts of situations at hand are well seen and heard by me  in the intrusions mind-****** layer which became  reality for me because the existence at first had given me a gift to here such wisdom for all ive been imprisoned and tortured and left with out any social ability too mend appropriately  back into society
17 years later I'm still unnerved with such hypocrisy life's a trip in this devious secret society . far beyond the jealousy of the nature displayed in favor dedicated to the intruder beyond all glory I give them a profile sickend to the pedophiles galore. no not me will I be mind ****** manipulated and scorned through your curious desire watching the behaviors given until pleasures delivered that satisfied the Hunger of a deviant composer forbidden closer quite well taken perceptions blundered obscured exposer of character  oh aww things of which God and your mother should never ever witness or conjure .
Hear them calling me!!!!!!
Star BG May 2019
Spring has knocked on my doorstep.
Birds being the doorbell
for eyes to perk.
Frost melts away revealing
trees of green and flower bloom.

Sunshine is the exposer
of photos.
And peace aligns with breath.

I stand grateful to open door
as my heart smiles
for a visitor
I have met before.
Inspired by Edmund Black
Thank you. You are a gift.
Marco Raimondi Aug 2017
Alors le sein blanc pour exposer les jeunesse,
Il brise le visage affligé
Je vois dans votre oyeux, c'est un passager
Des chagrins, des souches, des coffrets confesse
Everything's been made for me
and said for me.
I can read between the lines
when every one is hinting to me
That they can read all of my mind,
So I'm feeling naked lately
Like I never had anything to hide.
And I don't know why I wanted too
I guess I didn't realize there is no lie.
And I can feel you know me
My every ache and desire
you never even told me
But I saw your face change by the fire
And in that moment our souls spoke
I could feel the exposer
I knew no judgment from you
And that's when I found closure.
Sonnet.


Pascal ! pour mon salut à quel dieu dois-je croire ?
- Tu doutes ? crois au mien, c'est le moins hasardeux,
Il est ou non : forcé d'avouer l'un des deux,
Parie. À l'infini court la rouge ou la noire.

Tu risques le plaisir pour l'immortelle gloire ;
Contre l'éternité, le plus grand des enjeux,
N'exposer qu'une vie est certes avantageux :
La plus sûre vaut moins qu'un ciel aléatoire.

- Pitié ! maître, j'avance et retire ma main ;
Joueur que le tapis sollicite et repousse,
J'hésite, tant la vie est légitime et douce !

Tout mon être répugne à ce choix inhumain ;
Le cœur a ses raisons où la raison s'abîme,
Et ton calcul est faux si je m'en sens victime.
Whisper softly,
no need to raise your voice.  
I'm Here just like always,
that is my choice,  
and I'm listening to you,
just like everybody's wanted.
You finally found some one to tell
all those things thatve left you haunted.

We are enclined to hide
yet we find comfort in exposer,
we are wired to lie
at the risk of some one getting closer.

But I'm tired of garments
hiding my truth
I'm tired of guilt
staining my youth.

And I want you to know,
that you can be free.
If you just let go
and put your trust in me.
Graff1980 Dec 2020
I write as well,
tell myself
I’m not made
to perform on stage.

The blank page
is the place
where my grace
is the greatest.

I display this
humanness
by touching depths
I haven’t even
swam in yet.

I drown in
the sound of men
woman and children
moaning,
begging
for a living,
when no help is given
by those in power
who have been
taking without returning
a single cent
of human decency.

I can write clearly,
because I have time
to edit each line,
the same ones
which I hide behind
and pretend that I
am helping
when I am just
doing enough
to not be
the enemy,
less of an ally
and more of a lubricant
that helps
my own guilt
slide off
the walls I built.

I have tried
to understand
how those
who were denied
a helping hand felt
and mirror it
in my poetics.

But I am pathetic,
self-indulgent
pain appropriating
social movement
inactive student.

Taking out loans
I never plan
to payback,
other than
in writing
human events.

Some say,
I am a good man,
but I feel unworthy,
uncomfortable
because even though
they heard me
I don’t think
they were listening.

Life is a prison,
and I am self-convicting,
admitting that in my laziness,
I might as well be complicit.
I write so later on I can ignore it.

Work hard to explore,
then exploit what I didn’t earn,
take all that I have learned
and try to make a better world,

but no matter what I do
I feel like a poser.
Even when I am trying to help you,
I feel like a cheap magician trick exposer.

Though, I am trying to foster,
a compassion movement,
I am just an empathetic
poem writing imposter.

— The End —