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Sam Hawkins Apr 5
Upside-down and unconditioned I
climbed my tower.

I sprinkled my flecks and dodges.

Wistful-eyed, in soul surrender
I, with my twin wild roses, grew.

Sunset in mauve near sparked attention
cop politician any progressive crew

and all the while
I whinnied at the moon.

Before the door was broken into
under-rooms had shut, had disappeared.

Streaks of starlight filled the streets
and sailing, flew.

This is way the desert sings
tra-la-tra-lee.

Tra-lee-la.
automatic writing. just me going off, near sedona az

Are you sad or unhappy
Depressed; Feeling lonely
Each day dark and dreary or blue?

Do not worry my friend
I know just how you feel
I have all the right answers for you

So to counter the downward
You start thinking upward
Bad thoughts will stick to you like glue

It takes more than just effort
You must remain strong
Fortitude; So this trip you'll see through

Now I want you to think
of a time you were happy
When things in the world all seemed new

Full of love and carefree
Innocent; Truly pure
Crisp and clean
; Much alike morning dew

When inside of your mind
you project types of thoughts
that are positive; A "dream come true"

It rewires your brain
Generates
new connections
Gets rid of the old residue

But you must stay the course
Don't give up in distress
And in time it will start getting through

It is hard I confess
But would never attempt
or could make a false promise to you

So if happiness is
what you want from your life
Yet it always finds ways to elude

The change comes from inside
Must have faith; Must believe
Make a batch of fresh "positive brew"

As you drink this elixir
In time you will see
Billiard ***** have all left but the cue

A blank slate to create
What you want of the world
Every color no longer just blue

Disagree or debate
If you finish the race
Like a big gust of wind that just blew

All the darkness now gone
Feel like 'here I belong'
Peace of mind; Life that's filled with love too
Written: October 21, 2018 (started) & January 31, 2019 (finished)

All rights reserved.
[Anapestic Heptameter format]
Me Feb 14
When I should feel
happy
because you know,
I feel the tears coming on.
I see the world darken
As I cry.

People ask me
why are you sad?
People tell me
don't be sad
she knows

But do you really know?
No.
You don't know it's you I'm talking about.
It's you I think about

every

day
Shofi Ahmed Oct 2017
When all in all
is beautiful.
To face it
the rest is too small!
Can a fabric,
a piece of the veil,
eclipse it at all?

Yet the sky is
upside down.
Every morning
lits up a sun.
Something!
The little earth
is hiding in the core.
This is my youth,
These are the days I am beautiful-
And only for a minute.
What do I do with it?
Waste,
As most do.
How dreadfully average of me.
Minuscule Ego Jan 11
A price that’s in the men shoes
He’s unclaimed and well schooled
Act his rhymes n’ mimic his friend too
Make him understand our sweeter shoo
Blend to been online with his touchy tools
Then play him around n' bring him to us too
Wherein he'll crave more for our added duties
A pleasure to bend n' subdue his struggling pities
And so you try to get me for all the monies n' fame
Hoping that my heart do cringe to the gains and aims
For in most man’s heart lies some greed n' impurities
But that testimony was short-sighted n’ less accurate
Dunamis and poverty - a borrower, the lender's slave
An experience to fail my rapture; a shameful swing
Which my hands cannot say – an immoral beauty
Whom my lips can not welcome; the school
The teacher - the minister
A princess n’ a bling
A frog as a king
He’s handsome
By gender
She's beautiful
in slander
A prince
An offender
A princess
The slanderer
The princess and a king
A soldier n’ a fling - a queen who’s ashamed
The offer that topped the shelf of supreme

That's us, both upside down and unclaimed
A soldier n’ a queen - a coward, a shame
The prince and a fling
A miss
A glamor
A mister
An amour
Unashamed
With clamor
Unmoved
By hammers
A miss in a glamour
A mister in an amour
The minister and a king
The majestic of single shoes
Who's keen to sense a moral beauty
Who sees the world as an interesting chaff
Dominate n' commoners; a sense of duty that
All must claimed from their individual combat
For in most men heart, here lies love n’ cruelty
To flamed the hearts n’ dance to pains n’ strife
So I sought to seize the life of  love and Faith
To pursuit a walk of dreams n’ less blemish
Where little is important than odd duties
Like turn me around and teach me you
Teach me to see another man’s shoot
Make me enjoy that creepiness too
Shade my mind and my drink too
Cause I’m unclaimed n’ uncool
A vice that's in a male shoes
Stop using our women to lure us to you
Say No to Homosexuality in Liberia
If I were a Rainbow
The children would run to me
Turning upside down, I would be an iridescent swing,
The children would mount my rainbow wing

Swaying high up in the starry skies ascending on the moon
The children do bunny jumps, counting stars till noon
Awestruck and desirous they pick a few
The colours pink purple orange magenta and blue

Swaying down to the flower garden
They would pick flowers from the boughs laden
Threading in a star and a flower into  an ornamental  garland
Adorned as neckpieces , running around ,making one happy land

If I were a Rainbow
I would dismember all the semicircles making one hula hoop
The children would gleefully twirl and sway into the  enormous loop

If I were a Rainbow
I would become one big ramp
The children would joyously roller skate  up and down
Lighting up the ramp

If I were a Rainbow
And all of these came true
I would turn upside down making one radiant smile across the sky
The children would happily smile back at me , waving me good bye
Wrote this for my younger son ,Anshul on his birthday (19/02 ) , this year .
But never posted  . I am glad to post it as my 100th here .
Thank you all ,my HP friends .
Had been a little unwell and did not post anything in the last 2-3 days .
L B Nov 2017
What She Look Like?
  
…Like one
tenderly hushing
water in her lap
Elemental peace
No place to go
No more to be
…Like the ocean
in the background
of a photo on a warm spring day
belying
rage
and the random possible
thrash--

out!

at all guilty ******* in her path
Toss in the next sentient soul
who should happen to pass
within range
who should have seen
who should have known
what a storm could do….

Moody in the aftermath
and sorrier than rain
With the tide in retreat
grumbling excuses
Hiding out waist-deep in dusk’s Merlot
Waiting for night to sleep it off

to heal the rifts
cleanse the shame

Rising
yellow, bright— and

“What the hell happened, here?!”

____


Her hair
a winter’s tragedy of trees
upside down—
No wait— the wind has put her right
to ragged random branches
swaying, wet with intermittent hues
of dark and silver
caught in collar, flying inelegant and free
at the shoulders of the levee
tossed and softening shyly
sagging jaw and nose a stump of tree
All perspective changes…

if you watch a while—

She’ll raise her eyes
into the sunset
to catch an eagle
entering
flight

…and then you might…

___

She looks like—
a pudgy robin
querying grass
mud soaked
that hides the fire of her breast
tugging at a worm
more than half her length
“I will feed them, **** you!
Give it up, you son of a snake!”
_____

...Don’t miss her hour of music though
for anything
Encroaching darkness
from the rooftops
she listens to the hearts she breaks

Remember this in winter
she can give but she will take
it out on February
when you’re longing
for her
Only male robins do the singing; females do the choosing.  

There are very few recent  photos of me.  Thus this poem.
Matt Jursin Nov 2009
Backed in.
Upside-down yet right-side-up.
My "Days Off" are never enough.
Backed in. Feelin rough.
Being alone in my quiet place is often tough.

My mind wanders, getting lost.
Missin out on bein about.
Locked up on a cold, cloudy, winter day.
No doubt.
No trust, no love, nothing to clutch...
I hold my blanket and pout.
Loudly.
No friends wander in and out.

Undoubtedly this pen holds no cure for a broken spirit and a broken heart.
I guess this just falls under "Vague Art".
But it's a new start...to an old art.
I should've known this'd be harder than being a martyr.

Underestimating the already underestimated.
It's my time to shine.
Mesmerized by the bright light.
I try not to fight it...this paper, My Shrine.
Im an **** person with a handsome mind, intertwined with the devine.
My life, MY throw, MY time.
It's never this easy to draw strait lines...-----------------------
Drowning In ****
2016-06-15

I cannot let the **** win,
Wipe the smile from this old chin,
When I drown in ****’s frown,
My world is just plain upside down.
So much beauty there to see,
Nature, art, poetry,
Stars, moon, astronomy,
A bedtime prayer on tiny knees,
A stranger’s bless you when I sneeze.
Relics from an artist past,
Pyramids, lovely vase, wide Mountain path,
Days of life with loving wife,
Fruitful work beating strife.
So many blessings for you or me,
Fish that swim in open seas.
Cloudy sky, birds that fly,
Ice cream and apple pie,
A nurse’s care when I die.
Nature, flowers, birds and bees,
Fall colors in every tree.
Faith in friends, a warming bath,
A mother’s love, a cooing dove.
So many clips of **** news,
People lost, children bruised,
Fills my heart with aching pain,
Need to find beauty again.


B. T. Whittaker

Wrote this because nothing but horror seems to flood the news, coming up from the U.S. Some days I lose faith and cry for balance. Terror in neon right on the doorsteps. Repeated over and over on Canadian politics for bad decisions, bigotry, and hate.
Drowning in ****.
I couldn't resist reposting this. Not sure things are better for sure
Shofi Ahmed Sep 2018
When you walked on me
I was groovy,
I was the rose of the spring:
everyone’s sweetie!

Your little earth down the upside-
down sky was the centrepiece!
Not anymore, I don’t want to be.
O Fathima, don’t go without me,
don’t go to heaven without me!

Without you I melt away,
burning my spine:
you know the reason why.
I passed my song down to you.
Pour it down to river, to the sea,
do as you please,
but don’t leave me.
O Fathima, don’t go without me!

I touched my dream
when you touched me,
I bent with paradise
like a flower bends in the breeze.
You said sway with ease.

(Choir, voices of women:
Every night did the moon flower,
million stars spurred far afar.
We were closer than two hairs)

I let you paint yours on shades of me.
I became you, you became me.
No one is sure where your
grave is no one can see.
O Fathima, don’t go without me!
Kemy Sep 2018
Umm, the presence and scent of a man
Magnetic attraction where his feet stands
His natural body charismatic aroma
Element of charms, seeping to awaken a woman out a sensual coma
Is it his eyes, the soul behind his life’s mysteries
Flirtation in his smile, tells me he has an undercover ****** history
It is his nose that smells out my charms
An enticing deep baritone voice, his spoken words, which turns me on

Is it the erratic heartbeat he has for a woman, his passionate relent
Stealing my breath, as he tenderly seals my lips in an impassioned moment of content
The strength in his biceps
His triceps
Strong, yet such comforting arms
An epitome of steel, circled around a woman in winter life’s storms
In the cold of night, his body providing your heated warmth

His chest, a hard pillow to tell your doubts, your uncertainties, your fears
Pulling you closer onto it, his reassuring words eradicating your tears
His intellectual mind to think as a man
A stimulating, slam bam and thank you ma’am, or your personal grand slam
His weakening love, taking your body beyond the stars
Woman from Venus, my handsome Man for Mars

His groin, and his family jewels from which it springs forth
Erected compass of his wand now pointing North
A woman’s reservation to tease, please, stroke, or allow it to choke
His loud murmurs shadowing your moans, echoing in the wind
****, I love the presence of men, and his undulated carnal sins
From the first taste of honey dipped Butter ***, me

As his giving oral fixation is traveling free
Freeing the elixir of juices that deems to flee
His hairy legs as he stands to lift my weight
In the shower, no wait, as I anticipate
Hooking my twerking bait
His physique in general…Oh, God thank you
Without the scent of a man, we women would not know what to do

Your presence to a woman is our earthly food
Our je ne sais quoi for our every ****** mood
Rather you are standing, lying still, or upside down
The blissful 69 number conquered as we’re fooling around
My Dream Weaver
My distance heartbeat receiver

His dripping sweat
Droplets to my skin have been met
The presence and scent of a man holds me throughout the night as our eyes finally rest
The best smell in the world is that man that you love.

Jennifer Aniston
Francie Lynch Nov 2018
Have you met the Who-Gee Boo-Gee Man?
He scammed fig leafs in the garden,
And **** cloth in Ottoman.

     outside-in, inside-out; upside-down, right-side up

The Who-gee Boo-gee Man can cuss.
He offers snake oil, spins a tale,
So you feel smart, healthy and hale.

     from top to bottom, bottom to top

The Who-gee Boo-gee Man can't stop.
He swrawls with a Sharpie pen.

     right is left, left is wrong

That's the Who-Gee Boo-Gee song.

Consultation for now is free,
No hidden added extra fees:
You buy two, you get three.

     north to south, east to west

The Who-Gee Boo-Gee Man won't rest.

I've heard his feet are cloven;
The eyes are yellow, lips look swollen;
He has *******, wears silk- woven.
He sweats like water to the lowest level;
He's quicker than the slyest devil,
Selling hell, but we hear heaven;
Doing so twenty-four seven.

He photo-shops secret desires,
Twists truth-tellers into liars;
Artful, wily, scheming, subtle,
The Who-Gee Boo-Gee's a hungry jackal.

     today is the day, yesterday's late,
     tomorrow's a place that just won't wait


I met up with the Who-Gee Boo-Gee Man,
Peddling apples from my jardain.
Bison Apr 2016
Gold spine
Terror climbs
Deep inside
Warning signs
Upside out
Inside down
Laugh loud
Love now
Heart beats
Struggle streets
Perfect teeth
Pretty neat
Run away
Lazy May
Rainy play
All day
Cold night
Sore sight
Bitter fright
Winded kite
Dead sigh
Cold climb
Green vine
Gold spine
B L Jun 2014
Cheated and defeated –
                      my mistakes, themselves, repeated...
A monster made of gluttony;
                     I’ve no option but to feed it.

I saw the writing on the walls,
           But, my feeble eyes had failed to read it.
Still... I’m not convinced that this warning,
        Was chosen by my eyes, not to be heeded.

Perhaps my head was the catalyst
           A byproduct of an acid trip;
           Had split this world in two.
Some for me, and some for you.
Maybe . . . this warning wasn’t meant for me.
Maybe . . . it’s for the second half of two.

“Ye kind-hearted shall not go forth”
                              … is what I believe it said,
But I can’t be too certain.  
                              After all, I’ve lost my head.
And that brings up some emotions;
                              Or maybe they're allusions?
Although, I can’t tell through the hallucinations
                If these are real or illusory movements.

So the fish hook pulled me deeper . . .
                       All the while, stretching skin.
                       I knew not about the rabbit hole
                       to which I just dove in.

It seemed a lot more like an alley when I first took a glance,
But once I took that fateful step, I guess I chose to dance.

                Oh, what a recital it’s been!  
                And we haven’t yet hit intermission!
                Although I’m not sure when that is…
                                       For I seem to have lost my vision.

The Queen of Hearts shouted,
                              “Off with his head!”
But without a brain to notice,
      I couldn’t hear what she had said.
She said it before the guillotine dropped…
So was my brain already gone
                      when my head hit the block?

I’m not sure where to find the pieces.
                     I didn't know I fell apart.
                     I didn’t know
I was a headless servant
                    To the heartless
                    Queen of Hearts.
Now, without a head,
                   I’m trying to piece it back together.
And I’m worried that this rabbit hole
           just may have me trapped here forever.

So, I trace my steps backward, to try to find my "forward."
But as I set my pace faster, I find I'm moving slower.
Things turn upside down, when you’re this far down . . .
And the carousel just spins – around and around.
Gaining speed, with increasing malice,
I hopped right on --
        and chose a different path than Alice.

Here we arrive again at choice, but was it one at all?
This is when I found the Hatter – where the bounds of logic fall.
He asked me why I was there.
             He said, “My boy, have you gone mad?”
And as I searched for reason,
                                          I concluded that I had.

Standing on the ceiling,
            we both watched the world, twirling.
Sipping from our cups,
            between the stirs of sterling.
We chatted over tea, and while I was now content with spinning . . .
My content grew simultaneous
with the Cheshire Cat’s grinning.
He looked at me and said,
                                      “Upside down, yet, you seem alright?”
I responded with a “Hm…”
                                        and my spinning turned to flight.

I flew from the table and
       As I questioned if I was stable,
I grasped for the air.
       And for the first time . . .
                                          I was able.

Apart from the question, I now knew that I was mad,
Because I gripped a fist of air,
                             knowing full-well it can’t be grabbed.
I swung through the air…
                                    maybe I flew . . . I’m not sure.
But as I passed over ground, I surveyed it for Her.
I looked for Alice as my guide,
                              but someone took her place:
The "heartless" Queen of Hearts
                                     and her over-sized face.
Was it the face? Or just the head?
                            What’s ahead without a face?
It seems I lost the bounds of logic
                                    upon my fall from grace.

Was I flying?
Or was I falling?
It seems that orbit was my calling . . .
Where, as high as I fly,
   the paradox of orbit keeps me falling.
Maybe I’ll stay out here, where it’s quiet by the stars
And there’s no signs to read;
               no catalysts for scars.  
But did I ever escape?
                Am I still in the hole?
I found among these fragments
          the completion to my soul.

Somewhere between falling and flying,
              I told the truth while I was lying
And found my equilibrium
               between the living and the dying.
Deb Jones Aug 2018
Once a man asked me back
To his home for after dinner drinks.
I was comfortable with that.
We had went to dinner several times.
I drove my car and followed him.  
We talked for about 30 minutes or so
And I excused myself and went to powder my nose, carrying my handbag.
I was out of the room about 4 minutes.
When I returned he was naked.
He had placed a metal folding chair
In the center of his well lit dining room.
I know my eyes were as big as saucers.
I remember thinking
“This escalated fast”
Doing a pantomime he held up a latex object that looked like a decanter stopper. Oversized. And upside down.
He waved his hand under it as part of his presentation.
Think of a stewardess doing the pantomime of flight safety rules,
Or QVC seller on television.
He then set the item on the metal chair and sat right down on it with an odd
squishy-sucky noise.
Up until that point
I had not moved an inch.  
I am pretty much open minded about ***.
But the whole situation and the mime-like presentation was so much ick I panicked.
I ran out the back door.
I didn’t say a word.
Just ran.
He obviously couldn’t follow me quickly because you know....
He had something up his ****.
If this topic is too much or over the top I will be perfectly ok with deleting it.
Lizzy Jun 2016
I'm thinking about you
And how we were in
Very similar shoes.

I'm thinking about your smile
And your hair
That I always envied.
It's so strange to know
That I'll never walk behind you again.

I'm thinking about the way your absence
Turned our hometown upside down
And inside out.

I'm thinking about the portrait
Your brother just drew of me
And comparing it to the portrait
Anonymous painted for your mom.

Thinking about the guilt
That I somehow still carry.
Even after knowing the truth
And knowing what happened to you.

The weight of knowing
It could have been me,
But wasn't;
Is so present still.

Why did I make it out alive
When you had so much more to live for?

I'm so sorry
That this happened to you
And I'm so sorry that i couldn't do anything to save you.
She Writes Aug 2018
While they count sheep
I count stars

- The upside to insomnia
Robin Lemmen Sep 2018
My favorite times with you were the ones well after twelve. Long after the clock had sung its midnight song. Eyes sticky with sleep, heavy from dreaming and the naked truth inviting. We found ourselves daring to walk into darkness. No trace of fear lingering onto our unmarked skin. It was you and me, two strangers, against the world. Together found, and for a sliver of time, happiness no longer seemed an eternity away. Love can exist for infinite times but sometimes that means not together but apart. Memories and warm hearts trapped inside the protection of a delicate glass world. Turned upside down and waking up, forgetting we ever said farewell at all. Snow starts falling, each and every time I whisper goodbye, to the ghost of our winter love. Stuck, forever, reliving memories inside the snow globe of my mind.
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