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ogdiddynash Aug 2018
Your grandmother wants to be friends on Facebook.  

hey you,
can’t recall where or how i know ya,

but your grannie is very kewl,
(we agree on the proper pronunciation)
boldly asked if that included “benefits,”
she heartily answered “**** right”

“one man is pretty much as good as the next,
but younger is definitely better, and you a spring chickadee,
at age of sixty years and three,
so many years ahead to share,
your social security bene-fits,
making me swoon
and giving me ‘flashes ‘n fits’
and given your life expectancies,
spousal wud be nice,
even ain’t a necessity,
looking forward to pleasuring your company”

remind me again,
where do I know you from?


shoot.  

HELLOOOOO POETRY!
Nat Lipstadt Dec 2013
In my real life,
not a poet,
just an astronomer,
an observer of
universes, bodies,
places, faces,
visited, discovered,
named and oft,
best forgot.

I observe:

Some never find true love.
Some never fly first class.
Some of us
never see the
South of France.

Some of us wear
hand-me-down pants,
white lined creases when “let down,”
mocked, we never forgive ourselves
the shame of it.

Some never experience
reckless abandon.

Yet, some of us are
recklessly abandoned,
and never forget,
and never forgive.

Some of us lose
children, husbands,
avanti nel tempo,
before their time,
and
the anger is
forever, palpable,
costly.

Some of us
were raised by
someone else's parents,
and never rest easy,
the abandoned taste
always nearby,
a cruel living, breathing
teasing wasting

Some we can pass over
with ease,
as new tissue grows,
those cuts marked -
emotionally healed.

But the ones that scar,
the ones that visible scar
permanent reddened,
are the
holocaust deniers
that there is a real
promised land of
peace of mind.

Peace of mind -
not even for a second,
foretold but
unrealized,
a biblical myth,
a promised land,
a capitalist paradisal hoax.


Some never feel
public victory,
adulation, adoration,
always wearing the T-shirt labeled
Property of Someone Else.

Most of us remain
unpublished, undiscovered,
unremarked, blanketed,
cloaked in bills to pay;

Living a triumvirate of
heart ache, loneliness, worry,
our normal table fare
consists
of hand to hand
into the mouth
combat MRE's,
we engage,
to survive,
just stay alive.

We are not digitalized,
nonetheless,
we are
but digits,
our faces hidden, and
in no one's heart book
are we recorded,
friended,
yet our viewing habits,
purchases, secret sites
are enumerated, captured.

Some of us live
exclusively
in the real life,
never to escape to the
province of Wifi,
in the landscape
of the electronic mind,
an option for which
we are
untrained.

Perhaps sanctity of separation,
safety of text, email,
avec the ******* intrusion
of tweets are
the real life today,
games are always won,
and what we don't enjoy,
we just delete away

But In My Real Life
getting up is trying,
IMRL,
the trying is trying,
IMRL,
delete buttons don't exist      
in the keyboard
of our brains,
IMRL,
all we have is a
measly twenty six aleph bets
to find new ways to say
that living is striving and
what we feel is
oh so real,
not digital

IMRL,
when I laugh out loud,
the neighbors
beat the walls,
complainants,
registering their feelings
in my face,
in my book,
so to speak.

IMRL,
I got a friend,
maybe two,
all I need,
voices to help soften
the 400 blows of RL.

Their synthesized silence
of their breathing
on the phone
is precious unto me.

IRL,
limp from Friday
night to
Friday
night,
a bottle of Medoc
my weekend reward,
my bedrock cushion
in order to sleep.

After all these years,
gains and losses,
conversations with God,
I look up,
see the risk,
the slightest breeze
is a
hurricane wind.

The shaft,
of the
the sword
hanging above me
the hilt,
swaying in living color,
is no legend.

But what I have is
the ability
and maybe
the responsibility
to let anyone know
that
in my real life
anyone who touches me
with fine and good intent,
a momentary glancing blow
or a gunshot to the ventricle,
is part and parcel of
my real life.

This makes you real too,
savior, and hereby notified,
that you are not
just an observer, but
a poet of me,
an astronomer of my heart,
and namer of
a secret universe
inside of me.


Sept. 1, 2010

_____________________________
US Army jargon: meals ready to eat
nine  years ago I wrote like this.
Alicia Hubert Mar 2013
Hey Sweetheart remember me?
The girl you said you 'loved' for almost a century?

I see you take your "new" friends wherever you go.
Are you with them cause we broke up or is it for their hoes?

So you said we should be 'friends' and you're really sorry,
but what about these rumors you've been telling everybody?

I never left the boundaries of being faithful,
that was your ******* cause you're so ******* disdainful.

Now even though I'm ecstatic I kicked you to the curb,
we need to go over some things cause I'm pretty disturbed.

For one keep my name out of your mouth,
you must not understand baby I'm from the south.

I'm not scared to punk you in front of your friends,
if I hear another thing about me from you this will transcend.

Oh by the way I un-friended your ***** ***,
You're a ******* and you've been outclassed.

I hope the next **** you **** carries stds,
that's exactly the kind of wake up call you need.

Thank God I dumped you when I did,
you were so ******* annoying since you act like a kid.

I hate you so much and I will never miss you again,
Lets not talk anymore and you can just have a ****** life then!


-Alicia Hubert
I did two so there was the variation of the anger kept over him but also that side of love that is still left over.
Paul Butters Feb 2015
We friended on Facebook,
Scrolled down our profile pages.
Lived together in a virtual world.
Our images and websites we shared
With Instagram incisiveness.

Meet all my friends.
Block any you do not like.
All busy we are, doing nothing.
Like if you agree.

Laptops were not enough.
Users subscribed to Smartphones,
Iphones, and God knows what.
Google them if you wish.

And if you like my words
Retweet them.
But beware!
I now use words like lol,
And even ***!
Hehe.

Sometimes I multitask,
Flicking TV channels
Like a Subbuteo striker –
Gone virtual by now I guess.
Flicking and flipping while I scroll
My laptop page.

I make new tabs
As I message many friends:
Emoticons exploding
All along the way.

I’m Tivo-boxing clever
All the time,
King of my domain.

So get your VDU lit up
And monitor my words.
Download my thoughts
Into your memory banks.

I hope this all computes.

Paul Butters
Even Shakespeare couldn't use this language!!!
I was friended on facebook by a stranger.
Usually this means I went somewhere and inspired someone with my
Personality or
Flirtation to look me up,
Or maybe a friend, of a friend, of a friend, thinks I'm cute and
Stalked my profile.
Maybe, I'm just an attempt at a ******* to this person.
Which I'm normally super okay with,
But here's the thing.
It was a man.
Now, this is not an issue to me, specifically.
I am in fact bisexual, but that's more of a title,
I mean, I've never been
Penetrated, by a man before.
N-not that I wouldn't be.
But we don't call virgins asexual because they haven't had *** yet so,
I just say bi.
Anyway, this man starts the conversation: "hello! with a smiley face."

I over analyze this: "hello! with a smiley face."
What does it mean?!
I stalk his profile.
Is he cute? Not really, but he isn't ugly.
I've never been attracted to men physically anyway it's always the
Personality,
Or icy blue eyes that pull me in.
And this man wears drag and rocks it so I will probably like him.
I don't know why, but I have a thing for lesbians and
Lesbian like things. It's really....
Destructive.
We have a little conversation and It's fairly innocent
Until he hits me with this line:
"Pretty boys down on their luck, is a sight I am unable to stand."

There it is!
I knew it!
This man is flirting with me!
I could smell it from a mile away.
I know this game.
I've been on
His side of this conversation a million times.
But, i've never known what it feels like to be here.
In this weird space, on the other side.
Getting complimented.
I never get complimented!
At most I get a half-hearted handsome after I
Confess my addiction to a woman's beauty.
Never, am I put on such a pedestal.
I mean, this stranger clearly wants their ***** inside of me.
I can think of no higher compliment.

Things escalate very quickly. Too quickly.

"I have a big bed, and I'm ready for a night of boys, *****, and another B word."

I, an idiot, honestly can't think of the third b word.
"Uh... bacon?
Backrubs?"

"No sweetie, *******."
"*******!?"

What did i get myself into? I had
Absolutely no intention of seeing this guy
EVER and now he thinks I want to come over
TONIGHT for
*******

How did I get myself into this?
What did I say?
What possibly could have made him think i was interested?
Is it just because I haven't bluntly said no?
I scroll up and search for an answer.

"You're pretty cute yourself."

****...      
Yup, that'll do it.

He says:
"Mmmmnfff, You're adorable"

These compliments though! I get
Tingles every time he says something like that to me.
It's so nice that it's entirely worth just
Dealing with the creepiness to hear it.

And then I realized....
That this is what it feels like.
This is how woman feel when we ask to
**** before getting to know them.
It's dangerous.
Like jumping off a cliff and hoping for a trampoline.
It's almost, always,
Rocks.

He says:
"Are you familiar with what consent is? because
I've had issues with that."
"Are you going to be one of those straight boys who are just
Wasting my time?
I hate having my time wasted."

I, realizing now what I'd gotten myself into, say:
"As a matter of fact, I am...
Sorry to have wasted your time, but at least I told you now.
A lot of girls don't"
Jenn Coke Feb 2016
Its length is known as “one year” by realists,
Also referred to as “anniversary” by idealists,
But “four seasons” is how I would like to call it
As with the passing of time I learn him bit by bit.

We met in front of Record Hall
On a rainy night and boy did I fall
For this one man named Timothy
Who approached me differently.

We first found each other online
But he was unlike the other swine
Looking for a body and easy ***,
Trying to buy me with their checks.

Plus, he did not follow the ordinary formula
Like “coffee sometime?” which is just so blah;
Rather, he proved that he had read my profile
Attentively, so I imagined he must not be vile.

He did not mention or imply anything ******,
So I started to credit him some trust accrual;
He opened us up by relating to my stories
And spoke smoothly with sarcastic ease.

I fell for his chivalry and charm
As well as his unstinted smarm,
His passion for engines and parts,
Never giving up until it all starts.

He won me over with his corny memes,
Matching weirdness, and future schemes;
His unfaltering boldness and fearlessness,
Manliness, and, in due course, closeness.

A spontaneous boy who does puzzles with me,
A romantic gentleman who invites me to the sea,
A free-spirited dude who is a spirits connoisseur,
An audacious chap who is a cooking amateur –

He has a nerdy side as he likes to figure things out.
He has a masculine side as he enjoys working out.
He has a brave side as he goes off-roading in his Jeep.
He has a sweet side as he pulls me closer in his sleep.

He slyly squeezes out my personal info
From myself and makes me go “Woah,”
As he discreetly plans adventurous trips
Which makes me want to ****** his lips.  

He is not afraid or disinclined to reveal his worries.
He is not abashed to update me on his **** stories.
He was not nervous about exposing his cover letter.
He was not anxious about taking me to his mother.

Weight? He does not ask me to gain any or lose.
Change? He needs not fix or loosen my screws.
He takes me as I am, not as a mechanical robot.
He finds sufficiency in all that I do and have got.

He does not care that I wear makeup or look like a dude.
He does not complain that I take long to finish my food.
He disregards that I do not adhere to societal standards.
He discounts that I occasionally think and act backwards.

He makes me relax and loosen up in his presence;
He emits a homely atmosphere and is my defense.  
Hell, we even start doing ***** lovey-dovey acts
Such as calling each other’s names in several packs.

He uses his witty senses to title my works,
Which, to other people, may stir up smirks,
But he does not give two ***** about them;
As long as we represent to each other, a gem.

We are compatible and agree in many manners;
We are avid Android users, not iOS supporters,
We take pleasure in dallying under the covers,
We enjoy mysteries and psychological thrillers.

We follow a handful of seasonal anime together
And we tend to swiftly marathon them altogether.
We even have our own convenient organization
In times when we watch anime together in elation.

He asks, “wanna watch” when there is an update
And picks a title; I agree and say “ready” and wait;
He says “go,” I thumb him, we watch simultaneously;
Then, whoever finishes first sends a thumb amiably.

He tries to pass time with me after work so demanding
So he sometimes falls asleep and leaves me hanging.
However, he impresses me in still choosing to be dutiful
All the while exhibiting humanness, which is beautiful.

I am pleased that we have similar likes and interests,
Glad that both tally with “real love will stand any tests,”
Blessed that both are open to expressing affection,
Thankful that we are looking in the same direction.

Even apart, I admire his strong patience,
Extending over many hours and nations!
Oh, I almost forgot – he is also tall and fit;
The more I think, he has it all – you name it!

The list of what I love about him keeps growing,
With things to cherish constantly overflowing;
I cannot expect more or imagine anyone better,
So I find myself dedicating to him this love letter.

Gosh, how I miss our sessions of wine and cheese,
Cinematic baths and interlacing, candlelit bodies,
Our woolgathering moaning and perspiring mess,
Many nameless moments and silent togetherness!

April 6, 2015, on OkCupid, he gave me a look;
April 11, 2015, he “friended” me on Facebook;
April 15, 2015, he suggested meeting up to study;
April 18, 2015, he dated me and became cuddly.

All this from last year… one year forward, today,
We are still together and have not gone astray –
As long-term and long-distance partners, we are
In the hardest, yet happiest, relationship by far!
I miss him, my other half, my home, very dearly.
I am thankful for his being, loving, and waiting for me.
annh Dec 2018
I wove my own web and netted my prize,
I cold-pressed my words and refined my disguise.

I goggled at life and faced up to that book,
I tumbled and tweeted and baited my hook.

I blipped and I blogged, I bantered and blushed,
I followed and friended, I grovelled and gushed.

I doled out the instant, ten grams at a time,
To fuel my addiction for caffeine and rhyme.

I reshopped my pic, I swiped left, I swiped right,
I pinned and I posted deep into the night.

I gloated and gossiped, I chatted and cheered,
I logged in and logged out without favour or fear.

For is it not fun - this mad media storm?
Viewing and voting from dusk until dawn.

Yet love me or like me, let it never be said,
That despite how it seems, it’s gone to my head.
Hateful atheist
Ecstatic to convert
With cruelty and a mean spirit
A facade of compassion
Fingers to point at what you can't understand, bewildered
What you cannot understand, unable
To point and to laugh
Refusing to "come down" to a level
You feel above
A different level of hate
A different level of love

Worshiping science
You somehow can't see
Science is to look
God is to be
Through microscope and telescope
God can be seen

A rotten fruit on a dying vine
Cursed to be trapped in space and time
An awesome cathedral you feel is enough
It doesn't worry you that there will come a day
When you will be evicted
Wanting more
Never enough

The best you can do is to die in your sleep
Or fall to the elements
Anything to steal away the last 60 seconds
The panic of uncertainty
The all consuming fear of something unknown
The dread of learning, finally finding out
Finding out, in this last moment, that you're more than you thought
Just in time to say goodbye, just in time to lose it
Your infantile perception of space will collapse upon itself
Your time is running out, second by second, precious, more than days
More than years, more than a lifetime

Or perhaps defiant
"I don't even care
Take me away
Get me outta here"

Still mocking the faithful
Hateful and condescending
Giving no quarter
You tell me you are content
With your legacy
"My legacy will be more than enough"
When what we'll remember
Is how you used to smoke all our dope
And when it came time to share
You never had anything more to offer
Than a lousy pinner
© 2010 by James Arthur Casey
Phil Lindsey Dec 2015
With Lackey and Heyward both turning blue
The Chicago Cubs scored a mighty big coup
Kind of a payback for Brock, comma Lou?
What, oh what are the Cardinals to do?

We’re pretty sad, say the fans dressed in red,
That both of those guys chose Chicago instead
But a person would have to be daft in the head
To give up the St. Louis Cardinals for dead.

Yes, the Cubbies think that they have enough
But the whole NL Central is pretty **** tough,
Which team do you think will have the right stuff?
To win in September, when winning gets rough?

2016 will be pretty fun.
There’s quite a Division race to be run
When game 162 is finished and done
We will see which team, the most games, has won.

Yes, next year the race will be closely contended
During the season you might have me un-friended
But in winter time, our rivalry suspended
We can cheer for the Bears till their season is ended.
Phil Lindsey 12/12/15
Hope there are some baseball fans out there in HP land.  Especially Cardinals or Cubs.  Otherwise this won't mean much...........   :-)
Gary Gibbens Mar 2012
I am haunted by iguanas
Crawling though the attics of my dreams
And lately my front teeth
Are growing some kind of orange fur

I worry that ring tailed lemurs
Have stolen my remote control
I'm ridiculed by spider monkeys
Holding my underwear for ransom

My faithful cat ignores my worries
Unless her dish is empty
Now ants seem vaguely threatening
And magpies watch me in the morning

Late at night, I wonder what advice
Kafka or maybe Aristotle could offer
But they've never friended me or twittered.
Jack Sep 2014
Here is a tale of a dog and a cat
And a *** bellied pig, so pink and so fat
Of days in the garden alongside a farm
A whimsical story of magic and charm

The dog as he was of bushy descent
Yellow in color where ever he went
Digging a hole was his prime source of fun
As a matter of fact he had just finished one

The collar he wore was a leathery find
With studs made of silver so brightly it shined
His tail ever wagging, a happy old guy
He hung with is friends as the hours passed by

The cat on the other hand, sleek and so fine
A coat made of orange with stripes it combined
Cleaning a habit I see in all cats
But this one was special for it wore a hat

A tiny straw chapeau with fine feathered brim
A ribbon of pink that was wrapped round her chin
Though not really sure if a cat finds the style
But more as I looked I would bet that she smiled

And there to her left with a snort and a grunt
Was a portly built fellow the legs of a runt
Fine wispy hair that did cover the skin
With a gather of long ones that hung from his chin

Puffing along an attempt to keep pace
The dog and the cat and the pig they would race
Faster and faster they’d run through the fields
Though what was the secret of friendship revealed

None were the same as they differed and so
Still bound together a’ running they’d go
Never before as I think about that
Has a dog or a pig ever friended a cat

For ever so prissy, no memories jog
A cat who was friends with a pig and a dog
Though still I could see right abreast of my eyes
These three companions did bring the surprise

What is the moral of all that I see?
It sure does not matter of your company
Whether a dog or a pig or a cat
You can make friends with whomever you chat

People are different in color and race
But everyone seems to be wearing a face
A face that can smile, a face that can cry
A face that can hello or even good bye

If only we look at each other the same
Will we find fortune in learning their name
No matter the differences that we might see
It pays for each of us to every time be

Nice to each other and all things like that
Just like the dog and the pig and the cat
Ken Pepiton Oct 2018
Information Required Order 38582 Moonshine Makin's

I intend to use this order to test
the viability of an herbal extracting service for local gardeners.
If there is interest
and our trials prove commercial, the methods
will be posted publicly, methodic.

The intended customer base is the home canning and preserving enthusiast, ****** societies, 'n'such.

Now, the pod cast, statement of use. Right, of course.
Right use is to be made of all the time we wish, and we wish to share the method we use.
With youse.
Here's my idea, at the moment

nothin,

then I hear this guy who got famous in the seventies,
in such a way that I would have known.
Had I been on the same planet
during the Seventies
and half the eighties.

Terrence McKenna, right. If I had survived 1970,
and things had been well positioned for that to have happened,
had I not...

What did we do, my strange friends, or was I the only one who does remember my last sane thought? Actually,

I don't. And then, I do. Quasar-ic-ish-ly.

An edit or two could change every thing,
imagine this Terrence
McKenna taught "Authentic Being" a sort, or class, of being,
very high and good.

We teach being authentic.

Being a being's been being a while,

upon multiple instants of
a time, best'n'worse, full'n'empty, war'n'peace

(i'sgottabeat)

yet never is hope absensed. Any time I tell a story,
hope springs eternal, soon

soon the old fool will see No one is listening, and wink.

No one and the fool have friended
upon such times as these,
No two, as well, (seedawink)
to a far lesser degree, ye may see.
Secret secret secret knowledge, gnosis, donchaknow,

is same as sacred, yes, yes, it is, sacred made, made sacred, samesame that's the game... secret

I am in me,me ni ma I
Magic Ab-io-alchemical Hermitical Heretic, am I. Spirit. Muse?

Are we lost? No. We are wiser than we were.
By any measure.

A statement of use for that we wish to take, once it is granted. What's the use? We stuck not knowin, right?

Wait, I have a chit
"All things pertaining to life and godliness have been given thee." Got that at VBS, by God.

Really, we are treading on Bunyan's tale? We escape the Giant Despond on a promise of a promise?

Yes,
seems so. So little is different. The road, seen rocky three decades ago, or so, now, it's

bricks, silicon bricks, I recon they been doped, ye ken?
Some ol loswoids crosswise need gold ducts to flow
past the reflective edge, where we saw that Mckenna

outright lie.
He did. Damright. Said Paradise was opened by the door that shut Eden, but he said that

Like it was a bad thing.
Jesus Christ, if he missed the whole reason there is a Bible and a Jesus in it, who is gone gowon his testified
psyc-hellic oppositio cunjunct-ifitis trip?

So, I missed the seventies,
as if I were flying from LA at forty k and I go on by, to land in 1985, after fifteen years enculturated to believe a not-so-complex,
on the surface, lie.

Truth has a strange mercurial 'spect,
all the light that can be reflected is reflected in mercury, see,
the edge twixt yinanyang, dang,

as far as we can see, tho'

we can't really even see HD, but
it seems better.

Reflecting on an idea is blissfull, but that's not the reason.
Reflecting on old age and catching people telling lies regarding what can be learned in a deep examined life. Then, it's harvest time, and afriend called, thinks the podcast is a good tool, how we gone use it?
Stormy Bailey May 2015
You stood there,
across the crowd,
dancing with your friends.
Your hair, your hips, your eyes, your lips,
I was hypnotized at first sight.
I adored you.
I adore you.
Everything about you.
You’re perfect.
As I dance in the crowd that surrounds you,
I’m laughing,
I’m smiling,
I’m feeling
lovesick.

I ask a guy to get your number,
I’m so nervous I don’t think I’d be able to form the words.
He points me out and you smile a little and wave at me,
I blush and wave back,
As a shudder races up my back,
You walk over to me,
Are you an angel?
A starlit sensual sashaying goddess.
I buy you a drink,
and I’m starting to think,
this might be something wonderful.

You have beautiful eyes,
and the softest hair.
your graceful and magical,
like you walk on air.
and your funny,
your so kind,
your sweet and sincere.
I’ve never met someone like you.
Someone who cares.


A first date,
you’re at dinner.
I’m at dinner.
We’re at dinner.
A second date,
Its a movie.
My eyes are on you the entire time,
As you laugh and cry,
I laugh and cry,
I feel what you feel,
and I know you feel it too.

We text constantly,
and I think we might be making a connection.
Im on your facebook as you post pictures of us together.
Commenting and laughing about the stupid faces I make.
But you're always so beautiful,
No imperfections to be found.
And the more we talk and the closer we get,
The more I feel I wouldn't mind if I drown
in you.

The closer we get the more nervous I am.
I call you and hang up,
I dont know what to say.
I see the world in your eyes,
I hear the stars in your voice,
And I can no longer deny it.
I’ve fallen for you.

I love the way you smile all sleepy when you first wake up,
You’re just so happy when you see the sun.
And the cute way you dance to your own silent music as you fix breakfast,
though you always overcook the eggs.
I love the way you wander around the house in just boxers and a T-shirt,
even if the curtains are wide open.

I know it hasn't been long since that first night,
but honey I love you,
and I can’t explain the way I feel in a better way than this,
with a ring and a stolen kiss.
so please say yes.
Please.

Don’t look so surprised.
Why am I in your house?
I’m here every night baby.
Wait, no, I dont want to get out.
Stop acting the way your acting.
Dont you want this ring?
No, stay away from the door,
and stop throwing things.

Why are you fighting this,
The way that we feel?
We are perfect for each other,
so why are you squealing and screaming at me?
Is it because I woke you up?
You’re beautiful when you’re sleeping but I wanted to seal our love.
So take this ring,
and kiss me girl,
I wanna be your light,
because you're my world.

Stop saying no,
stop saying stop,
I love you ,
I need you,
Cause you are my rock,
in this ocean of life.
And I’m drowning,
I’m floundering as I knock you out.
No I dont want to hurt you,
but you are so loud,
with your screaming and pleading,
And we need to get out.

Shhh its ok,
the gag is a precaution,
as I drive to our new home,
I dont want you to wake and be frightened,
of the rope,
around your wrists,
or the blind fold,
or my ****** fists.
You see I want it to be a surprise,
when I uncover your eyes,
and you see our new home.
I’m bringing you home.

Do you like your new room,
no now don't start screaming,
maybe I should have waited to wake you,
and you looked so peaceful when you're dreaming,
Who’s that?
Oh I dont know.
He used to own the house,
Is he breathing?
It doesnt matter,
I’ll just get him and take him out,
Why am I doing this?
dont you see I love you,
and I need you,
to love me back.
So I’ll tie you to this bed,
and I’ll turn on this track,
It’s your favorite song,
Oh you don’t need to know how I know that.

Whats that noise?
What did you do?
Why aren't you tied to the bed?
Now baby I love you but I will hurt you,
its for your own good.
No put down that lamp,
Why are there lights outside?
Hey where'd you get that?
Give me the phone.
GIVE ME THE PHONE.
GIVE. ME. THE --
Oh.

⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫

I went out dancing,
I was in this crowd
and I think he was there,
But then my friends were all about,
and I felt someones eyes,
but there were so many people,
I would think I would remember,
I should have know he was lethal.
But we were dancing,
entrancing,
and happy.
And no one wants to believe.
I mean I didn't really think.
He must have really thought he loved me.

Some guy asked for my number,
He said it was for a guy across the room,
He pointed him out so I smiled and waved at him,
he blushed and waved back,
And I dont have the best track,
When It comes to cute guys.
So yeah It was no surprise,
when I let him buy me a drink,
And ok, I think,
I kinda liked him.

He had nice eyes,
and ok hair,
but I got this vibe,
that he just wasnt all there.
He was funny,
kinda,
But he didn’t have much to share,
I let him down soft and left,
Maybe he didnt hear?


I saw him sometimes,
When I was at dinner,
and he was at dinner,
but we didn’t speak.
And again,
I was at this movie,
And he was there,
I was laughing with friends,
and I got up at the end,
and there he was,
watching me.

I got random texts,
But I didn’t know who they were from.
And he friended me on facebook,
But I’d forgotten who he was.
And then he would comment on my pictures,
and he was always in the background.
Smiling.
Watching.
Me.

I kept getting these phone calls,
but he would always hang up before he said anything.
I’d blocked his cell number,
but I was starting to connect the dots,
I mean I didn’t quite feel threatened.
Just really creeped out.
I still should have done something.

I felt like someone was in my house,
but I thought I was just being paranoid.
I mean who would sneak into my house?
Well I guess he would.
I started to close my curtains after that.
But the feeling never went away.

Then that night he was there.
I dont know what he was thinking?
He proposed to me,
he got on one knee,
and then he kissed me,
And I woke up.

I was so surprised,
I asked why he was in my house,
He said he snuck in every night,
I told him to get out.
I should have done something,
but then he started waving around a ring?
And then I went for the door,
and started throwing things.

Well he was saying so many things,
I can’t quite remember them all,
about us being perfect for eachother,
and he started to call me beautiful and yeah,
I was kinda screaming a lot.
But you would be too.
if you woke up to find him,
hovering above your bed,
holding a ring,
his lips near your head.

He wrestled me to the ground,
as I screamed for him to stop,
and I shouted no as he rolled on top of me
crushing me with his weight.
I was scared,
I was frightened,
and yeah I feared for my life.
I bucked and I twisted,
but I must have missed when he brought up his fist,
and brought it down on my head,
cause then the world went dark,
and I thought I was dead.

I was lost in an abyss.
And my world was quaking,
though now I know I was blindfolded,
and it was a car shaking,
but in the moments of nothing,
when I was half conscious and dreaming,
The ties around my wrists were gone,
and I was freely thinking of the life I could have,
so you understand,
why I fought so hard when I woke up.
you see I wanted,
I needed,
to stay alive.

I woke up in a room,
and I started screaming,
he was talking to me but then I saw in a corner,
It was an old man,
and he was covered in blood.
He’d been the owner of the house,
And the guy who thought he loved me said that he was dead.
I asked why he was doing this but he said he loved me
that he needed me,
to love him back.
It was so hard for me not to fight him as he tied me up,
and he turned on my favorite song.
I held back my rage until he was gone with the body.


Then I yanked at the ties,
and they cut at my hands,
and I ran to the window,
to see him digging outside,
and I searched through the room,
looking for somewhere to hide cause the door was locked,
but then I found the phone,
and I dialed 911,
And I told them to come.
and I waited a few minutes,
talking to the police,
when I heard him on the stairs and I thought he had me.

He ran inside just as I heard the sirens,
and he was questioning me,
and he was threatening me,
but I grabbed the lamp,
and he was screaming at me,
to give him the phone.
But I didn't give him the phone.
I gave him the lamp, hard, against his skull.
and he fell the ground as the police came through the door.

And then they helped me outside,
and the ambulance was waiting
and when he came out it was on a stretcher,
apparently I hit him a little too hard.
But I say not hard enough.
At least I know I will never wake up with him around me again.
Though he won’t either.
Wake up that is.
Because I killed him.

I feel remorse.
It wasn't his fault he wasn't right.
Though he made the conscious decisions to sneak into my house that night.
We found out who he was,
and that he was all alone,
no friends, no family,
and not even a home.
So here is my story.
And you know the rest.
Officer, is that all?
I think I really need to get to bed.'
http://www.facebook.com/home.php#!/profile.php?id=716179266&ref;=ts
Jerry Saltz Michael Reid Rubenstein: What I am about to write IS NOT A PUTDOWN of your art. You write, that "everything you see is priced under $950..." I am NOT sayiong you are a bad artist but I looked at some of those brush painting things: They are overpriced at that figure. There is no originality in the work; no spirit; no idea; no touch; risk; or whatever. I am sure many many people would not pay a dime for MY WORK! I would not pay fopr yours. Again, no disrespect intended; YOU posted it and made the offer; I thought maybe I'd buy something so I looked, is all ... ♥ Js Tuesday 12:30 PM

2 figures on stage in totally make believe situation
JERRY PEPPERZ hello Michael i noticed you withdrew your offer
MICHAEL REID RUBENSTEIN why are you acknowledging me if you think i have no originality no spirit no ideas no touch risk whatever?
JERRY PEPPERZ oh come on Michael hasn’t your skin grown tough enough by now to withstand a little criticism you want to run with the big guys you got to learn to play hardball (smiles smugly)
MICHAEL REID RUBENSTEIN a little criticism huh Jerry you’re a published big time nyc art critic nominated for prestigious awards advisor to celebrated exhibitions visiting critic at many esteemed universities friends with renown celebrities photographed with powerful dignitaries who the hell am i to utter a whisper in your direction (smells looks away)
JERRY PEPPERZ now come on Michael i was just doing my job no need to take it so personally like i wrote What i am about to write IS NOT A PUTDOWN of your art (picks hair from shoulder flicks it)
MICHAEL REID RUBENSTEIN Jerry you got a way with words (pause) i’m just a stupid-*** painter who doesn’t stand a chance against a shrewd critic like you i think i’ll just keep zipped up and quiet (makes eye contact)
JERRY PEPPERZ but i asked you when i re-friended you on FB to be more vociferous and participatory i guess i didn’t realize how valueless your artwork is please forgive me (sniffs finger)
MICHAEL REID RUBENSTEIN didn’t do your homework huh Jerry? i keep asking myself why you didn’t send me a private message why you needed to take an earnest exchange of ideas and openly deprecate me heck you’ve never even seen my work in person your casual remarks dispute my entire life’s work credibility authenticity what you think you were being clever or cute Jerry you know how to be vicious i realize you don’t become a famous critic by being nice to people critics gain popularity because they’re ******* with razor-sharp slandering tongues you want to hear what i think i’ll tell you you’re a balding insecure little man who enjoys beating up on small time artists (is it all right with you if i call myself an artist) like me you know how to take a person’s complete career and trash it with a few choice words you can be rather mean Jerry (grinds teeth)
JERRY PEPPERZ i apologized now let’s not turn this into a regrettable incident (rubs hands together)
MICHAEL REID RUBENSTEIN at least i’m doing something Jerry instead of sitting on my **** condemning others i wonder if my work were hanging in Larry Gagosian’s Gallery and collected by Charles Saatchi how fast you’d change your tune you’re nothing more than a puppet of the rich and if you try to sue me for these remarks you’ll get nothing since you made **** sure my paintings are undeserving with your haughty dismissal
JERRY PEPPERZ would you excuse me i’m late for a lunch date with Alec Baldwin this little repartee will have to end bye Michael (turns looks down checks cell phone)
MICHAEL REID RUBENSTEIN Jerry can anything good or positive come out of this or does your mind not work that way i mean you’re a revered critic i need you in my corner
JERRY PEPPERZ you really think i’m an ******* don’t you (looks down rechecks cell phone)
MICHAEL REID RUBENSTEIN like i mentioned Jerry i’m just a stupid-*** painter not a judge or brilliant critic what i think is irrelevant what you did was cruel sadistic abusive
JERRY PEPPERZ get over it let it go just drop it Michael i really need to run Alec doesn’t like to be kept waiting he’s buying (grabs coat walks like he needs to go to bathroom fast stage right then suddenly reappears) don’t let me find out i underestimated you who do you think you are i’ll thoroughly destroy you (exits immediately)
MICHAEL REID RUBENSTEIN (shakes head) sheesh

Jerry Saltz
Jerry Saltz September 8, 2010 at 9:22am
Subject: I am sorry.
Michael,
I read your comment.
I am sorry. I did not mean to cause you any pain.
I went back and deleted by commnet to you. I will now delete the comment i made to you about it.
You can do whatever you want with your comment to me; it is up to you.
Thank you,
Jerry "clever," "cute," "vicious," "*******," "slandering," "balding,"
"insecure," "little," "beats up on small time artists," "take a person’s complete career and trash it with a few choice words," Saltz
C S Cizek Nov 2014
I suckled my mother's Bluetooth breast
while my father built me a bassinet
of series circuits with high, motherboard
bars.
I've got that artificial baby glow.
But Mom put my ****** on Facebook
at four weeks and I still haven't re-friended
(forgiven) her. My upgrade's in nine months,
but I want my downgrade now
'cause all I get are social invite excuses
from Facebook fuckfaces. We pack
our lives into little boxes that we're
not even allowed to open.
We drink to technology, keep our lazy
eyes on our news feeds, and recycle
ideas like their owners would even
want to see what we've done to them.
We misquote Confucius and credit ourselves
with mangled Robert Frost stanzas.

"Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, and I think
it's awesome that Pepsi used to be blue."

Reblog, revine,
retweet, FaceTime.
Folding chair fold-out on someone's lawn.
White-out Yeats, Keats, Byron, and Auden,
and write John ******* or Tom Whatever.
We're caught in the chicken wire of an LCD
fruit basket so neat, orderly, and brushed
aluminum. How can people write in Starbucks?
S
   B  
       U  
            X
B  
     S
The cooler's too ******, music's too shy,
and the sugar, no, not just the sugar.
THE PEOPLE are too artificial.
The carpet-suit inlay I'm standing
on has pencil lead, sock lint,
and receipt shred lapel pins.
Even corporations play dress-up.

But what happens when Y2K kicks
in tomorrow?
Lives will be lost even before
the missiles **** us.
And the planes that drop
from the sky won't even come close
to when the bough breaks your little
girl's heart, baby, because your phone
can't raise her anymore, so you have to.

And based on your search history,
tweets, and recorded dreams,
she's better off in the warm
embrace of a hard drive.
The poem for my Color & Design final.
mike dm Jun 2014
Deep down
I crave the sacred
Now that everything is
Just a dust mote limping along
The curvature of a light beam
in this dilapidated house

I've winked
At everything but the kitchen-sink --
Although, I do have my eye on it

Cynic
Know-it-all that knows he knows
Nothing
Conflicted

I wish I knew subtlety

Mona Lisa's quarter-smirk
Makes my emojis feel
Sorta slutty --
like they try too hard ya know?

^.^

Heaven:
Rainbow-colored
toothbrush mustaches
And
Killer drones friended by elm trees

Dissimulation is
my religion
Because
it just explains things,
It walks back the big crutch
It makes gods into amoebas

All. I. have. are. words.
******* scribbles.
Stillborn syntactical limbs of whim
Severed at the moment of send

Yet still
I deliver and hold them
Close to me
They are my ex-press
A last confession straight to the quick

The world doesn't spin it screams
We just Van Gogh it with
Slurry nite nite sleep tight's

God, what I would *give
mike dm Jan 2016
then she looked at me, gazing
with a vigor that collected my scattered thoughtstream

and, fixing her stare, she said:

what if we tabled our demons?
Pulled up a chair for them? Got to know them, instead of
trying to vanquish their persistent presence?


and setting upon my worried head
sat something like
the quality of being wise; it inscribed

lithe formulation with a depth, true.
and i knew,

then

the types that once arched so high, so vaunted in blue,
were mere sets of symbols
induced with the incantation of a brow
steeped in trickery of the highest order.
OnlyEggy Dec 2010
Romeo, oh Romeo
Wherefore art thou Romeo?
I friended you on Facebook an hour ago
and I saw you tweeted recently, so...

Romeo, oh Romeo
I can see you're location with these iPhone apps
And I e-mailed thee this route from Yahoo maps
so you should of been here, but perhaps...

Romeo, oh Romeo
I stare at your picture in utter torment
because you deleted my Myspace comment
I know! I'll text bomb your phone 'till ye repent!

Romeo, oh Romeo
They say stalkers should feel ashame'
Thy parents say I only have myself to blame
I say deny thy father, and...(oooh, I just Googled thy name)
(AIP)- From Tough Guys Wear Pink
Butch Decatoria Aug 2017
(Cebuano word, an identifier for a male person whom we do not know by name.)



Here's a story of a not so lovely baby

Hey babay go'ne my way

Faded, on his way, shameless

Maybe needs some work....

What the hey, anyhow he play

The game of heart break  

Silent now

Shirk and shake it off your shoulders

Telling myself insistingly

"He ain't my responsibility"

"I won't feel bad - take care of your own

****"

We smoke and vape

The other **** we hit the days wide awake

My bad, acquaintance not much else

A brief voicemail

he is shaming whispering

"Hey bakla - what are you?"

Who that Price?

when your ice glaciers melt

And garbage comes bubbling up

From under your breath

So Truly only you

For reals tho'

Be he the abandoned one

Early on broke

Those years ago a kid

Hatred your imaginary friended

You're a G in your head

Spite quiets down when

Down and out ...

Crazy to suddenly

See you now

Still loathing me

And somehow I believed it  

As cries for help but

Hungry wolf each night

Is still a dog

planning to bite.

Still angry at me for nothing's right

Just another sod

To prey and feed

Upon...  

Yow not a dog

Your it's flea.

To think I prayed for you...

Forgot the gist of this

So so sorry

No kidding this morning

No taller story

Than pretending to be something

Worthy.

As friend as family.

Now you're just a *****


Someone Without a name

If Strangers call you ****

I still do not know you

Aren't that close with

Who you've wronged before...or

Why I'm an open door,

Walked on all over

Sorry so tardy to tell you

No more.

*****
The word **** in this context is the cebuano word for male person, man or boy. A guy whose name you don't know.
J Novic May 2013
I posted a status today.
I got the job I wanted.
My heart was was on high.
And no one liked it.

I posted a status today.
It was a youtube video
about some funny dumb ****.
And four people liked it.

I posted a status today.
It was political and a fresh point of view about gay rights.
Six people liked it. And one person de-friended me.

I posted a status today.
It was about drinking and partying my *** off.
Fifteen people liked it. And three commented on joining in.

I posted a status today.
I said how sad it was what I saw today:
That a couple is out to dinner.
And spent most of the time looking at facebook instead of
enjoying each others company and talking.
Twenty people liked it.  One of them was the guy I saw at the restaurant.
A person commented on that status saying, "******."
No one liked that person's comment.

I posted a status today.
"Say -- John Mayer"
What I meant to say was, "Why are we so afraid of saying what we need to say?"
Two likes.

I posted one last status today.
#Amurica.
Twenty-eight likes.
And a SMH as I looked at my smart phone.
TLDR

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.
Instinctively.

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-gotta-get-the-****-outta-here-NOWWWW?!

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: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/emily-wilcox/the-pushpull-relationship_b_8241126.html
Shivpriya Dec 2022
A friended stroll of my buried emotions!

The chest voice is still coping
with the straining quality of an inner alto.

O sense of high pitch,
have you forsaken your hope
to use the support of love for crooning quality.

Did I miss you in singing the pyramid of my emotions?
Or didn't I feel you in the supporting system of the
sweet notes and their perfect harmony?

I can't read you in the crimped edge of my thought process.
And this roots in the inner reasoning of having frustration.

The repetition of musical forms and
their fade out seems to be attractive.
But tell me,
What stage comes after the little more careful stage?
I see the embers of spark reflecting the feelings of your eyes.

The feelings movingly remind me of a sealed fate.
The sealed fate has to deal with
Your oasis eyes,
Your fire eyes.

I get a little hint from my budding self-analysis mode.
And I think it is okay not to use perfect antonyms
and synonyms while singing.
©️shivpoetesspriya
Bailey B Aug 2010
To my ex's friends
who all friended me on Facebook
even though I'd never met you
once in my life

I graciously accepted
your cyber-creepy gestures
and you all wrote on my wall
and told me I looked nice

three months later
I broke up with him
and now you keep your distance
and don't even like my statuses?

guess I'm not so nice anymore.
Look what you did to me
stalked me for three months
friended all my friends
to them we loved each other

But no you did not leave it at that
you tried to befriend my three ***** cats
friended my friends every day
then showing pictures of me half naked .. Oh Yeah

Claiming I am your feller
yeah if magic was Penn and Teller
this is a sad, but you are a manic friend
so don't phone again, my so such dear friend

I lost friends because of you
and I will never want them back
god knows what you said to them
I am sure I am not the last on your rack

Go find someone else
even take up painting
I am sure you will find
someone lonely and waiting


By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris
TW Smith Feb 2014
I have made sounds that were foreign to my ears
And have laid in strange places.
But as long as the fire remained lit at home,
No matter how dim,
All was well.

I have found myself in places a Christian ought not be
And have friended with those even the devil would shun.
But everloving did the fire burn
Deep in the heart of my home.

The night came when the fire was put out
And there was no one to go home to.
At midnight I was in a drunken stupor.
At dawn I was as pathetic as a newborn babe.
Owen Phillips Mar 2014
Yeah you facebook friended me and you
Tend to like my posts and I don't mean
You actually like them but when the display tells me you like them,
When I see that red number over above that blue planet in the corner
I feel it in my guts, in my *****,
Like you Like Like me

Yeah but all that stuff's twisted its way into our consciousness like
Jagged metal and I won't stop
Beating my own brains over  the wreckage
Because it feels so good in that
High-fructose, instant ****** kind of way.

But there's my fantasy self, collecting herbs in the garden
He never accomplished anything and he's
Getting thinner and more transparent every day
But from the bathroom window I keep ******* him into cruel, tortured, frightened existence.
5 February 2014
MoonChild Mar 2014
Neon green leaves of glory swaying in blue courage wind
Dancing patterns of fall move through branches still
Fallen blankets of crinkled matter brushed against the grounded swill
Heart pounds in uphill tide, wandering galloping keeping pace
With backpacked bones bodied in friended slide
Gidgette Jan 2017
I don't belong,
In this "modern age"
Mom said,"Mandy,
You need a face book page"
I had one, once that I abandoned
I must've forgotten why
It didn't take me long,
To remember, it's all a lie
I prefer the woods,
You can't "filter" the view of an evergreen
No downloads in nature,
Just life, real and clean
The sound of squirrels at play,
The smell of rotten leaves
Watching the breaking of day,
No cleavage shown
Not a ***** in site,
Unless the deer are in rut
Then you just might
No "look at me's"
No "See what I've got"
Social media, I believe,
Causes brain rot
If I'm not in the woods,
My nose is in a book
Give me pretty words,
Then I'll take a second look
I already "friended",
Pen and page
I've nary a need,
For a "fake book" page
I like the dirt,
Things that grow
When it's winter,
I like the snow
I say,"Mom, I have an account,
On a poetry site,
Where people read poems
And all of us write.
Our words and dreams,
Thats what we share
And instead of our possessions or skin,
Its our stories, we bare."
Yea, I think it's safe to say
I don't care for this modern age,
And I've nary a single reason
For "fake book" page
I don't mean to offend. Just an opinion.
The Dedpoet Jun 2017
Ive written about my experience
With a daughter i lost in my youth:
Amber waves in the still
Of my soul,
The story in my perception
Truth be spoken,
She wasnt really mine.

And my heart is stilled,
Born into my life
My love could not be seen
As fatherly,
A choice made
And years fade into the torture
That is my mind.

17 years after the four
Of loving her,
The love of my life,
The Ded inside the poet
Reaches into my reality
And once again all is
The chaos.
Ambers wave.....

I raised her for the first four years
Of her life knowing
She wasnt mine.
When my ex and i separated
I lost Amber too:

You reached into a well
Of souls and captured
My whole being,
Ambers waves like a beach
On Sunday morning's
Glory,
Life is in me to hear your voice,
And the truth comes
Like the last gasp.

Amber is my exs daughter,
She cheated on me and we assumed
Amber wasnt mine.
So four years i loved her.
She was born at 6 months old
And weighed only 2.7 pounds.
I reached out four months
Ago for some reason on facebook
After she friended me.
I asked her if she still talked to
The man we though was her dad:

Time is a hammer
Always pounding and memory
Is the tear we dont shed,
It all comes out at once
And the weight of regret
Can be lifted,
The soul cleansed,
The hope invigorating
And life is a dream within
A dream within....

She couldnt tell me anything
So her mother gets on messenger
And tells me she is going to call me.
She tells me Amber is mine.
That I was her father all along.
The stillness in my whole
Life lifted.

And the beauty of life is
That the unexpected
Is always the best anything,
Knowing is like a perpetual
Repetitive insanity,
Regret a broken record player,
Depression a choice within
Not to fight even when
You lose,
Ambers wave came like a
Dream awake.
The reality is,
If this is real, never wake me.......




My heart is open again.
Life is so beautiful.
Amber was born with cerebral
Palsy on the right side of her
Body, shes 21 and she found
She had a great big family
After feeling so alone.
She fights everyday and is in college
So when i met her she amazed
Me with her fight. Never
Giving up i awoke from
My stillness. I have a daughter
21 years old!!!!
My little girls have a big sister.
My still born was a metaphor
For my life being stopped after she wasnt in my life.
See my facebook for
The pictures of my long lost
Daughter. Life is a beautiful
Craziness.
sam common Jan 2010
MY SPITTLE DRIZZLES
ON YOUR FACE IN MY DREAMS
(yes I dream it)
BECAUSE I TALK FAST,
BECAUSE I AM NOT PASSIVE
(in my dream i sweetly note it)
AND BECAUSE I AM IN-FRIENDED.

Call: Placed. From across the wall
so as to get myself around your brain
more than your(self) is by me(mine).




call call.. ahead or something.

Down the line (street)
I heard your rhymes and chimes
while I happened to be smoking dimes
up way  up in A town ..
And yes it sounds.

pounds my ears, up;
through my head and into my
head's bedroom.
(Such a room
admittedly clakkity clacks
when vibrated
by a rhyme
that at one time
you chimed)



but kind,
fickle times
poison my mind
with wrinkled wrinkled:  fine.
Viewtifulink Nov 2014
Flashing lights....

Invade my sights
when my thoughts
are like...

Divorced thighs..
lips Swelled prepped
to resist my
goodbye...  

Constricted hello's
while I play peek aboo
with her insides... her
breast dance to the melody's
played when satisfaction stops
to say hi...

I love her music, encouragement
for our momentary desires to
continue fusing..... Her ******
brewing, intimate temperatures
beg sensation to convert into
fluid, her appreciation
oozing...

waste that demands
a volume increase
in her music while
her legs mimic the
speech of someone
in need of a pronunciation
improvement... Her stomach
too friended that stuttering
movement.... Excitement's
introduction to the lungs
is a bit confusing altering
the amount of air needed
and what the body loses

I love her music...

Soundtracks of lust
play from our bodies
as we continue this
bonded movement...
her tones, multi pitched
moans mixed with the
bathing sound of her ocean
cruising... our boats collide
lending us such blissful
bruisings,
smooth sailing.....
her unlimited supply
of friction proofing

I love her music
Day dreaming

© 2014 viewtifulink
Just A Simple Thank You

I want to thank each one of you
For reading all my rhymes
I have 10,000 readers
In only 6 months time

I appreciate all your words
And the kindness of your hearts
The sharing of this passion
That some would call an art

I remember not to long ago
I would throw these words away
Thinking that this passion
Was somehow just a faze

I want to give a special thanks
To those who friended me
You helped me tell my stories
And you share this love with me

Carl Joseph Roberts


I wanted to just take a moment to thank you all.
Your kindness has allowed me to share my heartache.
Your words of encouragement helped heal my heart.
Your poems inspired me to keep writing and posting.
Many of your poems touched my inner soul.
You helped me laugh, cry, and feel sorrow.
You encouraged me to push forward in my writtings
Your words and poems have inspired.
I know that we may never meet in person
There is however a bonding friendships that will last.
Thank you for reading my poems
I hope to have 10,000 more reads in the next 6 months.
If however I only touch but one then this is worth it.
A simple thank you my friends and fellow poets. ...Joe
Please Read over my work and honestly tell me what one touched you, made you think, laugh, cry or be happy.
Infamous one Jan 2018
He was not good with others feelings so that made it hard for him to start over. Getting to know people is hard especially when everyone is sensitive or tries to twist his words. He had lost many friends because of a girl. He got along with everyone and was likeable. His friends had a crush but couldn't seal the deal. He accepted the ******* his friends behalf even though he could care less he just wanted his friend to be happy. They made him out to be the scapegoat because the girl they had interest in was not interested in them. He would be the middle man, his friend would hate him over a girl that he no longer associated with or he would befriend the girl losing his original over these failing events. He got tired of being blamed so he went away gave up his place because he didn't belong or like the pressure of others.
He never talked about anyone but everyone always had something to say about him when all he did was mind his business. He cared for his friends but they always got mad held a grudge. He got tired of caring the burdens of people who didn't care about him. He was only good for favors once that stopped everyone disappeared no where to be found. He made mistakes he not perfect nor did he claim to be. He learned if they didn't make him better or allow him to b happy and grow he didn't need them or care to associate with people who wanted him to give up part of himself to be liked or accepted.
Whilst the nights look like his lips;
He, Vladimir, that I once loved,
And love still now, when I sleep;
And miss now, when I weep.

Whilst the skies look like his eyes;
He, Vladimir, that hath but left,
My soul at the rage of Leningrad;
His goodbyes then erased my heart.

And when I look into the sun, apart;
I cannot but see the naïve Jakarta,
Trembling and groaning and moaning by its heat--
that its brown rain is not too sweet.

And when I gaze into the sea, the ocean;
The sandy scene turns evil bliss,
With a vile scent that rips, and burns--
A part of me that was pleased.

And when I stare at the heat, and its meat;
My souls collapse, they cannot meet,
There are hazards in its singing;
Violence in its newborn spring.

Wha else is sweet but Vladimir’s hand;
There was art then, like that in the rain,
What cold I felt, but that of love--
The feelings then, were more than enough.

What else is love but Vladimir’s eyes;
That my mercy rises to live again,
What is triumph, what is victory;
And all, without my Vladimir in me.

What else is laugh but Vladimir’s gaze;
In there are so much laughter, and idyll,
The ones that speak--the grass feels,
The ones I sought from East to West!

What else are tears but Vladimir’s mad;
What is in love but my own joy;
A joy that is too sad, and now immune--
To this untouched love, the worlds’ tune.

Give me back, o my Vladimir to me;
He was too sweet, that I could not see--
And with a smile he opened my heart
To the cold curtains of Leningrad.

Bring me back, my Vladimir to me;
Tell the whole world look to look vintage,
For my flesh not to carry my age;
And for the Heat not to be seen.

And how can I but not love Leningrad?
With its water, sonorous past--
The magnolia tree there hath friended me;
And which sounds so sweet but she?

And how can I but not love Vladimir;
For his orotund and resonant clauses,
That the birds lakeside loved to hear
Beside the beds of daffodils and roses.

The grandiose melodies, I hear;
Those reminding me of his Light, and sleep--
The ones my heart turned to see,
And were so sweet as his lips.

The ornate feelings, I have here;
The feelings looking short and weird;
But the obedience of life, and Fate--
That we cannot reject, now or late.

The florid roses, and their music
They made my Vladimir looked too sleek;
And so clean as his sea of blue eyes;
Trembling my heart, soaking my nights.

The unsung chords, the lovely song
But nothing lasted a night, nor long;
My Vladimir hath gone from his dreams;
Nor could my other days see him.

The unheard love, the black poetry
That I writ here, oft’ with passion;
That my heart can again be free,
From this longing, from such poisons;

The unspoken, unwritten love;
My Vladimir hath yet to see,
That I hath not once left my thought
of him, and what Leningrad is to be;

The unsorted, untold stories;
I hath not forgiven my own sorry,
I cannot think behind the cold breeze--
My Vladimir might be there, might see me.

The pompous cheer, the fake chills
None is too genuine, and yet;
Why are those all Leningrad can feel,
Why do them make my hearts sad?

The painted hills, the brown forests
Why my heart cannot be at rest;
And why Leningrad can be scandalous
At the most obedient of times?

I cannot see you, but I still hear
Your moonlit voice that I feel near;
And your steps that made me sleep
Ringing loud in my soul so deep.

I cannot hear you, but I still feel
You are about me, my Vladimir;
And why this love seems so blue
Because ‘tis genuine, ‘tis true;

I cannot feel you, but I still sense
That such love too is insane;
That sanity too is my friend,
That we shall meet, and love again;

I cannot sense you, but I still see
That my heart seems to go that far;
To you, to bring you back to me
To our unsung hours in Leningrad.

I cannot see you, but I listen
To the city that makes love fair;
And the story that brought us there,
If only you could be here.

I cannot see you, but I recall
The loveliness there, down the halls;
And the forest--as we walked along,
And stopped by to hear their song.

I cannot see you, but you are here;
Calling out to me that you are near;
And to you, I shall come out
To say my love once more, out loud;

I cannot see you, but you are true
And without you, all hath been blue;
To be with you again, in my heart
To be back in love with Leningrad.

I cannot see you, but you are there
And your love makes Leningrad so fair;
To be your star, and your moonlight
To be in your arms at the gliding night.

I cannot see you, but you love me;
And your love shall make me see
To be my sky, and my rainforests;
To put my clouded heart to rest.

I cannot see you, but you want me
As much as love itself is true;
And as much as Leningrad is to be
As much as our love can be, anew.

I cannot see you, but I want you
And your time as much as mine;
You make me insane, and blind
You are unreal, but then true;

I cannot see you, but I love you
So much as Leningrad anew;
And your heart is what I have here;
And your song is what I hear.
TV Aug 2014
And the journey begins
From the land of 10,000 10,000 mile high clouds
Drenching jungles and shores of ancient coral gardens
Long since harvested from the sea
Where they plant the love of their country in foreigners row by row by row
Where bananas resemble mashed potatoes and are served with onions
Where people can name the entire Yankees roster and have never kicked a soccerball
And yes my feet are tired
Because flip flops, like the government, offer little support
And who knows when I'll get the last grain of sand out of my hair
Or when the ringing in my ears from trumpet blasts will finally fade
Or the taste of unavoidably ingested bug spray will finally stop burning the back of my throat
my speedo tan lines will likely be the first to go
But all the myriad lessons internalized (read: only spray yourself with bugspray out doors)
All the friends friended with zero electronic interference (like the turtle hatchling I held or the man who volunteers years of his life protecting them for results that likely won't be seen in his lifetime)
Will live inside me forever
For, ever will my journey continue
Until we meet
And I can share them all with you
We can feast on them together
And they can maybe one day help you grow
like a mangrove tree
and harbor ideas of love in your roots like baby fish
And maybe if you're lucky, even taste the bug spray for yourself
TrueSun Jan 2015
Cowboy hat Ima ranger
Two pistols on my hip I'm the danger
Feeling trapped Ina chamber
Disgraced now I'm offended
Sorrow long gone glad that it ended
Deleted my Facebook that why you were un friended
So dont blame me for the courtesy
Freedom in stake the force of captivity
Dont really care if they murdered me
Cause I'm sick, sick of this ****
Walking on ice but it ain't that thick
Got a 5 star beautiful chick
So what am I saying I got no problems
Homie if you gotta a problem ***** we can solve em.
Amber S Jul 2012
after him, your kisses felt strange,
your lips too chapped and your tongue intruding.
after him, your body felt awkward,
ended too quickly, with no finish line in sight.
after him, your story felt old,
run over too many times.
after him, your love felt alien,
a stranger that could never be friended, a ghost never gone.
after him, you felt like a memory,
a bruise upon the heart,
still there, but fading.

— The End —