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Our discussion scared me
I could not believe
That I could actually be living
With a monster from Maple Street
I checked the address
And then checked it again
I never moved
So, I started asking questions
But the answers I received
Led me right back to Maple Street
Back to the monster you revealed
Blaming those so unlike us
Because everyone tells you to doubt
Pointing out those they see as different
Because their power is on
When you are in the dark
Makes you almost predatory
Almost like a shark
Paranoia is overtaking us
As Twilight Zone forsaw so long ago
I wonder how Mr. Serling knew
That the monsters were due
The monsters that live on Maple Street

© September 28, 2009 Deanna Repose
Reposted from: http://blog.deannarepose.com
Kylie Hailstone Jun 2013
Self deceived, I squander marrow,
I masquerade the straight and narrow,
Seasons stretched, my essence hollows,
Desire, dreams and purpose follows.

My journey dulled by everyday,
Monotony, days veiled in grey,
Life's sombre ruin underway,
Significance, my yesterday.

Deceit defends; my bow and arrow,
Mentality in disarray,
Love recedes, eternal sorrow,
Vitality wearing away.

Before me you materialize,
Rescuer, hero undisguised,
Bore truth, bore love, to my surprise,
Abetted, found what underlies.

Imminent growth, restored, I ascend,
Weakness' welcomed, defenses end,
No longer wish to play pretend,
More pleased than I could comprehend.

Discovered where desire lies.
Forever impassioned, we transcend
Forsaw my future in your eyes,
My flame, my lover, my best friend.
Samy Ounon Oct 2014
Birdy, mind your ears: my howls dash the desert’s edge
My passing gusts will matt your feathers fair and faint
And scratch your eyes of liquid soul with grainy kiss
And gentle downy is unsuited for the desert’s bipolar breadth
Accompanied by what I fear is desperate, decrepit depth
Yet you flutter further in the flats, breaching the jagged heart-planes

Doleful dabs of curt dismay smatter some sodden planes
The wrenching, soaked, woolly pelt fumbles at the edge
And he hopelessly attempts to slow his slide into the depths
The depths ****** in dew to make heaving paws faint
Paws drowning in imbued imbalance: my broken flooded breadth
Washed out and faded just short of amber kiss

Who does he yowl at night to kiss?
A range of mismatched capricious planes
Breath for miles of biome breadth
Between each bound a splitting edge
As fate would weave, his heart is faint
And craves impassioned, tender depth

Perhaps the hiemal hillsides bear a greater, sanguine depth
Beneath the snow are pines to smell, daffodils to kiss
Amid the pungent, frigid, fear the air contains a faint
Hint of something sweeter there, buried in the planes
And when the blunt ice trickles warm, beneath the caustic edge
A range of life of a new kind: unbeguiling breadth

Who forsaw the vanguard hunch of birds and bears for breadth?
Not I believed that birds could dive in deserts and find depth
Not I believed that bears could whet love from sharp edge
Not I believed, thus almost missed, fate’s gentle ghostly kiss
Not I believed and thus I blew dark clouds across the planes
Not I believed in him, thus it was I who was so faint

And in the meadows lions crawl and crocodiles faint
And happily, with wherewithal, the boa to gaur breadth
All coexist in mystery perplexing on placid planes
Burrowing through sand and snow, birds and bears find depth
Jumbled earth and tumbled thoughts, a misty morning kiss
Stitches the bipolar planes and hems the obscure edge

Across the crystal planes you see their trusting dives to depths
The bird’s faint singing drifts through waves as it explores the breadth
The bear’s protective kisses peek just beyond the edge
this is a sestina
Geno Cattouse Sep 2014
Blessed am I
For
I am blessed
To have lived long
Longer than the rest

For stumble and falter did they,one and another.
Some were my sisters and some claimed me brother And some forsaw roads end
And some knelt at the alter
Of greed and libation and drugs and frustration
Standing apart or shoulder to shoulder
Falling away like wheat neath the scythe.
I grew and grew older.

Both by chance and choice
So I lift my goblet and voice .
A toast
To survivors guilt.
Never.
Karma has hawk's eyes and hound's ears.
And I  for my part am bereft of tears.
Sarah Salako Mar 2016
My cup is half empty,
His is half full,
Mine is full of forgotten dreams-

He stole mine too,
His voice was my siren at sea,
So I drew nearer knowing full well,
He won't hesitate to sink me,
And he does killing me softly,
The fugees forsaw my fate,
I'm at his beck and call-

Won't he let me go.
Let. Me. Fall
My poems are never whole
thought i was victorious but i couldnt keep a promise,
thought i was stronger but i never forsaw this
broke, broke it all, upon an alter of chaos
they, they think they've won, but they dont know what they've lost
i know im still alive, life is the last thing they can cost
ill fight, until all they are is dust
demons, go back into the past, you're crushed
Ken Pepiton Oct 26
Spukhafte Fernwirkung//
-ping

On the morning
of March 16, 1968, American soldiers
from "C" Company came
into the village of My Lai…
-Conti's testimony, he stayed
Second tour he got arrested,
he was an armorer for First Cav,
I know a guy who knew him
when he got arrested, on duty.
About 1970, before Cambodia.
Back at the itch to think about 1968
from 16 MAR 68,
spooky was a DC3 with six miniguns,
spending nickles by the ton.
spukhafte Fernwirkung//
-ping

The next day, these toes
on the end
of me,
touched the tarmac
at Bien Hoa, beginning this memory
of instants, impressionistic
at best, something like YouTube shorts
taken
from chronological context
to fit the news between ads
for aging related aches and pains past
and present.
mehr spukhafte Fernwirkung//
-ping

In my 20 year old self,
in quest of lines showing duty done,
on my political career Résumé of fitness
to lead, to  me being mentored by Newt,
in American History, as he saw it, true,
Newt forsaw the EMP threat, and
scored an audience of told yous,
proud to have learned bullet
making after school… at the NRA clubhouse.
und mehr//
-ping ping ping

Triumphs and Indians, ' never saw a flathead Harley
until the summer of 1969, I saw the wreck, a Harley
wrung young Jimmie Hudgins neck, and he lived,
but he never went with us who did, and came back
as different as night and day, other people,
through and through,
truly on another trail, beyond the reason used in war.
fur spukhafte Fernwirkung
we took to spirit warring, with quarks
on our side, holding this thought

Pop, we inhabit bubbles as big as we imagine.
I long believed we live in bubbles of all we know.

I was wrong.
Become unmazed, unentangled, literally
free to define what you leave be true,
testy, feisty, wanna fight?
Or phuckaround with physics and spells,

Hallowed has meaning, yet, amen?

Even odds, live to the end…

Revelation
See, I had been infected,
seeing as I held
memories and lines,
I took for testimony Stephen Crane
put to ink, made me link that
now, not then, to a canvas,
Ms. Butler's Roll Call,
any
one approaching
the age where children are taken for war,

National Religio Significado duty accepted
as each pledged aliegiance, under God,
or else the communist spectre
brought unspeakable
horrors of HIROSHIMA!

Downwinder's loved to watch the flashes
- line on  crypto classification;
- subject locus south of river
On my DD 214, I was eligible to live on
Partaking of Largesse I earned by being
still alive and secretly, something
of National Pride Proving Passage right,
my nation, now,
pays me to breathe,
and learn until I die or ever happens,
Popt to your situation, reading
not involved,
after all
way beyond ever
after that revelation,

this is it, we did not die, nowhat,
Put on this mind, think these words,
you are you at last phaze myelination,
or your signals are phading,
but we got clear text 5 by 5, read on
seem
a survivor
of a specified exposure
to war,
a year, was deemed enough, and enough
to share
on circumstantial instances
when you think
okeh, what good could I do if
I accepted the truth
of the tree
of knowledge teaching only permanently

through experience passed through
and seen from this side… so then

I freely say, I know, what this is…
my life's cache of idle words, accounted for,
and activated
wise decision weighs against luck,
choosing liberal arts and sciences
to become a force made right
by the blood of Jesus to fight
any enemy
so declared,
by God's local employees
and the men He arranged
to be shaped
into wielders o
f carnal weapons, so awesome
cost for the risk not taken
2024 chances, short odds
of the answering invention's wise domain
above all answering witty inventions used

- to blow our little holy relics to dust

to make boys believe there is glory
found in fighting
for Nobel aspirations,
for asking noble questions, much glory
-+- does peace made
with words earn,
to deal with
all ra' adversity to intricately, functionally
beautiful towb be left to become the message.

God's chosen Nation's policy of people use.

{https://www.rct.uk/collection/405915/the-roll-call}
As Stephen Crane has been said to have said:
They come, I write them, that's all they mean until you read them
Stephen Crane
. In terms of style and inclinations, he borrowed from many categories but settled on none; he was a Romantic, an impressionist, a Symbolist, a naturalist, a realist, a Modernist.

oeuvre or opera,
operational patterns impressing
conscientious objects indelibly,
meme grit destined to be teardrop pearls.

A Man Said to the Universe

By Stephen Crane
A man said to the universe:
“Sir, I exist!”
“However,” replied the universe,
“The fact has not created in me
A sense of obligation.”

In the Desert

By Stephen Crane
In the desert
I saw a creature, naked, *******,
Who, squatting upon the ground,
Held his heart in his hands,
And ate of it.
I said, “Is it good, friend?”
“It is bitter—bitter,” he answered;

“But I like it
“Because it is bitter,
“And because it is my heart.”

Source: Twentieth-Century American Poetry (2004)
Luna Soles Mar 2018
In this day and in this hour,
Let us not forget, much less accept!
This groutesque occurence
We somehow forsaw but still allowed.

No tears are enough,
Nor do I know the words,
That calm the souls
Of those who so much lost.

Calm won't be found in words,
For no language has enough
When what truly matters
is how we resist from moving on.

Those in power
They claim to help,
But stepping on eggshells
They always refuse to change.

The silent motions,
Excrutiating to the ear.
And the normality of it all
A reason to fear.

"Of course we care"
"For sure we'll change"
And instead of moving right
We only seem to move left.

In a black mirrored society
How easy have we made
All this chaos possible,
Chaos we now must reverse.

Incentives to drown the guilt?
Those are never shortseen.
And with an opaque conscience
They all fall asleep.

It's no longer about "If" simply about "when"
And now more than ever,
Now it's when we say...
ENOUGH!
This was inspired by what happened recently in Miami, Florida. It's time for action in the right direction.

— The End —