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 1089° 
Man
Fools will paint with broad strokes,
Throw large loops,
And apply utterly meaningless labels
To the wide swath of subjects
Which they will not even try to understand.
Common man & academic-
There will be many who approach you
With the guise of knowledge,
Some through the visage of an education,
But will speak and show
Their teaching was not adequate
Lacking and inappropriate.
Character defects? Poor teachers?
And, you ask, where do I fit?
What do I know?
Evidently more if you have the will to ask,
The strength to accept the honest answer.
Marvelous looks the way
same route though everyday
amid leaves' rustles
and street hustles
walking jogging running
merrily with the nimble steps
skimming on winds
in an imaginary land
soft little fingers
slipping in and out
of the age worn hand.

Ten minutes to ten minutes fro
changes the landscape though
stiff barren dull sad heavy.

The trudge back
along the insipid land
with no hands to hold.

The landscape holds nothing..
it's all in the mind.
 205° 
Styles
Last night,
As my touch me her skin,
I discovered a desire I never knew I had.
 103° 
David P Carroll
I love you with all my heart
And I knew from
The very start
It was true love come true and
My love for you will never fade away
I love you so much every day
And I love you more than
Words can say and
It's true even ask our
Lord Jesus Christ too
And your my sunshine
And your my precious girl in life and
Forever in my heart you'll stay and you are My forever and my eternal happiness in life.
I Love You So Much ā¤ļøā¤ļøā¤ļøā¤ļø
 85° 
David Lessard
I used to read your poems
but lately you don't write
you're silent and aloof
you know that isn't right.
You can't close a door once opened
you can't abolish all your dreams
you're a poet of the heart
mustn't fall apart at the seams.
Say what you can in words
they speak the message true
spoken from the heart
the poems will see you through.
A hermit's not your style
a recluse, you are not
never give up writing
of things that you've been taught.
I used to read your poems
I'd read them once again
if you would send them out
(this one's from a poet friend)
SĆ³lo una cosa no hay. Es el olvido.
Dios, que salva el metal, salva la escoria
y cifra en Su profƩtica memoria
las lunas que serƔn y las que han sido.

Ya todo estĆ”. Los miles de reflejos
que entre los dos crepĆŗsculos del dĆ­a
tu rostro fue dejando en los espejos
y los que irĆ” dejando todavĆ­a.

Y todo es una parte del diverso
cristal de esa memoria, el universo;
no tienen fin sus arduos corredores

y las puertas se cierran a tu paso;
sĆ³lo del otro lado del ocaso
verƔs los Arquetipos y Esplendores.
 74° 
Path Humble
left my phone unlocked
on the taxiā€™s back seat,
won't be the last time

called it a few times
finally, the driver picked up

he had a fare immediately after mine,
and was nowĀ headed way downtown,
and would call later
when fate returned him nearer my office

and so it came to pass,
very shortly thereafter,

we met on the street,
he rolled downĀ Ā the window
and with the greatest smile of pleasure,
as if he had won the lottery
beaming,
handed me my phone

I had two $20's to cover any expense he might have incurred,
neatly folded in my handĀ Ā 
and offered it right up, right away;
but the driver repeatedly pushed my hand away
as I insisted,
saying:

"No sir, no no, not necessary!

Allah sent me a fare
that took me soon back close to you, so,
Ā Ā no loss of time did I suffer,
so your offer is kindly unnecessary!"


to which I replied,

"exactly!
Allah sent you to me
so I could reward you!"


and with an equally, beaming smile I continued,

"our ride and meeting today,
together was pre-ordained it was


Inshallah!" ^

something he could not dispute...
or my knowledge thereof and itā€™s
proper pronouncement,
nor
his amazement,
to disguise!

Ā Ā we parted ways
Ā Ā  each believing,
Ā Ā  each receiving,
a heavenly check plus,
each, credited with a mitzvah^^
on our
respective trip logs,
our humanly divine balance sheets,
kept by the
single
supreme taxi dispatcher
Arabic for ^"God/Allah willing" or "if God/Allah wills," frequently spoken by a Muslim


^^a meritorious or charitable act in the Jewish tradition

FYI,
NYC taxi cab drivers are suffering economically by the explosion of ride hailing app cars, many unable to pay their bills, earn a living, have committed suicide over the past few months
https://www.nbcnews.com/news/us-news/sixth-new-york-city-cab-driver-dies-suicide-after-struggling-n883886

true story, poetry is there for the taking
Do I long for more?
The delight of a Taco Bell burrito
Or the cats pawing at my legs?
Iā€™m hangry but itā€™s definitely the cats
Maybe
I say maybe a lot
Like a cow with brain-damage you walk side-ways across the path to total victory. Oft-times I wander alone with 10 ex-Kmart department heads: slipping, sliding, puking, dropping turds to recreate San Francisco.
 57° 
DAF
I only write at night
The dark seems to illuminate
Thoughts not given the time of day
 57° 
Ariana Bagley
I love him
I tell myself
I know that
We will be together forever
I donā€™t believe that
We could be separated
My thoughts tell me that
Heā€™s the love of my life
Sometimes my heart lies and says
I could live an eternity
Without him
Like my friends say
ā€œWeā€™re perfect for each otherā€
And you canā€™t tell me
Heā€™s not the one.

Now read from bottom to top.
 34° 
Akshay
These words are for me,
For I'm the one who's hurting,
I'm just healing myself.
I often wonder why we can't understand other's poems sometimes, but deep down it is the one who writes it knows the value of it.
 33° 
John Niederbuhl
One morning at sunrise,
I walked the beach
Looking for shells.

High on the bank,
Where no wave could reach,
An old man watched intently.

After a while
He gestured with his hand,
Calling me to him.

"You have many lives to live,"
He said (in a strange accent)
As he picked up a handful of sand
And let it run back to the ground
Through his fingers.

"That's a lot of lives", I said,
Watching the last of it fall
And trying not to look afraid.

"Not the sand in my hand," he said,
"The sand on the beach."
He extended his arms,
Raised his eyes,
Then vanished
Before I could speak.
Based on a dream
 32° 
onlylovepoetry
Friday night immodesty

theater on East 4th street @ 8:00pm,
so the girlie stuff commences on schedule
90 minuets a-priori and the medley music
(adele+amy+alicia+ pink bach for some zing)
a harbinger, a pioneer Greek heralding of
Friday night immodesty

the clothes laid out upon the bed, the shoes,
pumps selected and already on,
(always a puzzler to me,)
the subdued lower east side jewelry possibilities,
on the dresser drawer,
indifferently hoping for selection, but
casually beaming quietly,
like those kids waiting for interviews in the waiting room
of the college Admissions Deanā€™s office,
all with serious smiles
and tiny tearing eyes

aside:
helloooooo, I am in a poetry polo with my best jeans ready to go
2 hours before the curtain calls out,
hellooooooo

she sits at the makeup mirrored desk,
clad in only her underneathĀ garments of varying utility,
when I sweep in imperially
and with one hand twist gentle her hair upwards,
betraying
her neck nape which is again
the sujet of a poem aborning

lips,
like a Greek lyre strings, pluck, the tiny hid hairs never seen,
her instant moans at the never fully expected motion poem,
beg more mercy but no quarter given despite repeated cries
of youā€™ll mess my makeup,
the best defense known to a lady!

god gave men two thumbs to lift up,
simultaneously stimulating,
slide down each of the thin black brasserie strap invitations,
upon each, a writ,
upon her flesh colored shoulders,
stating
ā€œwhat was she thinking!ā€

my lips,
now polar explorers, those power (filled) poles side by side,
(east/west for the designer was a smart
bipolar guy-person);
the lips play silent night progressive jazz,
tinkling with higher noted keys,
nape to shoulders moving down to the backā€™s prefrontal lobe,
the small of her back, the bodyā€™s quivering,
a con-federate flag of surrender

her last defense swept aside, we drink honey and milk,
celebrate the weekā€™s mellifluous finish with immodest touching,
the lower east side will belong tonite
to only the hipsters, the millennials,
as our hips are milling andĀ Ā otherwise
pre-theater and post, occupado

some hours later, watching TV and eating delivered Chinese,
she laterally and literally arm punches my arm
intensely to mark her discontent,
still annoyed,
for I

1) messed up her makeup,
2) best blouse to the dry cleaner and
3) the tickets wasted, and worse,
hits me again!

after I laugh and giggleĀ upon proffering
most modestly, most assuredly,
seconds of
onlylovepoetry

9.21am Saturday
thank you all who liked this tale of
the poetry in the details
of our lives.
olp
 30° 
Eve Marinier
I quit insta to
join this. Sadly I can't fix
haikus with makeup
 26° 
Nina
We hug
We kiss
We cuddle
In bed

We were just friends
We made out
To him
We were having ***
To me
We were making love
I was his friends with benefits
But he was my lover
 24° 
onlylovepoetry
ā€œitā€™s the time of the season
When love runs high
In this time, give it to me easy
And let me try with pleasured handsā€

Time of the Season,
Song by Zombies
1 9 6 8
<~>
was 18 years young,
when first heard these words,
now in my-eighth decade,
times is both
plentiful
and yet delimited by the onsetting sunset finale,
but
and so are the
accumulatedĀ Ā dictionary of wordā€™s available,
that I command,
legions, armies, corps,
all to command,
to properly sayā€¦
yes,
it is the
Time of Season

come to the. lean sheer clean paper single sheaf,
with no agenda,
perhaps to just amend an overdue,
thank you

these pleasure hands
have always been
greedy,
for the sensuality
that stroking fingers command,
the contextual sensuality
is far greater than you ordinarily
stop to think aboutā€¦

but I remember
every face, every cheek,
that I have stroked,
think upon it!

the soft curvature of the skinā€™s mellifluous
shapely contouring to you
your pointer
finger,
thinking simple
nothing finer,
more pleasurable,
totally expressing
the emotive bonds
two human can share

mother trains her. children
with a deeper understanding
how love is simple,
enduring and stronger than
any timeā€™s decay could contemplate
despoiling

and to those women I have
adored,
whose thieving stole my precious loving,
I
thank you,
for your taking was a giving to me,
making a whole person
understand than to be whole
was to be parted,
for two are the greatest
one,
an equation that proofs
our experience
that though solitude
inspires
our greatest creativity


is is only because my eyes are
infused with and for
love
aspired andĀ Ā gainedā€¦

these hands,
more powerful than any other *****,
the eyes may have its
but will never touch
your child, your women,
your sense that giving up
yourself,
is an enehacemnt
of all you are,
a single finger
surveying the face of a beloved
is an electric shock
that soothes and satisfies
simultaneously,
uniqueā€¦


keep those pleasured hands,
fully employed,
bring pleasure to the world,
so that others will understand
it is now or never,
a line drawn upon
a beloved
is
poem only you,
can write
 24° 
onlylovepoetry
75Ā°F & AliveĀ & Minding the Perfection

morning mindfulness,
surrounded by perfect,
once again, may it be
forever this-a-way

I have no idea what
Iā€™ve done to be so
blessed; and I repay
with gratitude in this
psalm hymnal, poor
though it may be,
it is genuine, poured
from within the open
confines of all I have
learned, earned, & burned;

75Ā°F & AliveĀ Ā & Minding
the Perfection, the color
scheme makes neighbors,
even,
total strangers greet each
other like beloved brothers,
sisters, this heaven is infecting,
an infectious breeze of thr
stillness of early morn
born and carried in our cellā€™s walls,
strong are the nuclei, and this
memory, this poem devotion,
this ttributary of words
flows with slowed ease,
and the
troubles are banished to the
back of the pack, tho the line
be long, the golden oldies music
banishes them to a temporary oblivion
and tho solitude alone,Ā Ā momentarily,
my heart,
fulsome,
yes trite but true, is crazy
overflowing,
Iā€™m in danger of loving everyone,
for to not,
would be
criminal
if it were even a
possibility

if i could snap my genie fingers,
beware, Iā€™d summon yā€™all,
a global contraction perfect,
to convent/sit beside me, your presence
welcomed with a hot beverage,
a cooling drink, for every one
always get what they w a n t

*and yea,
this is a only love poemā€¦
10:53am
where perfection is  the rulerā€¦.
 24° 
Alex Teng
We fell in love by chance,
We stay in love by choice.
 20° 
eli
today,
i wore it again
and people complimented me
they say red is my color
and it suits me.

today,
it's too thick and dark
did i overapply
no, it's the right amount
just enough
to make them think
i'm fine.

today,
i look at myself
in the mirror,
and they're right
red shines on me,
so i applied
another layer,
and another
until my lips felt too thick,
but my eyes still see
the scars beneath it.
 20° 
Juliana
I often think back
to that letter
I received.

About what would have
happened if I
had read

it instead of letting
my friends choose
our course.
Inspired and In the Style of "This Is Just To Say" by William Carlos Williams
There was a garden of un-thorned red roses
protected byĀ un-imaginable silvery-Ā pink cages
fenced behind the stony stretched
rib-like walls
they said fumigation on roots and petals are necessary

but he took my hands and handed me a lit-ciggerate..
 19° 
Goddess Rue
Heaven rained on me,
I breathed in the petrichor,
Bathed in the downpour.
I have sinned,
So destroy me,
With your rain.
 15° 
Marie-Lyne
:)
I think
the world
needs
more
of us
than we
can offer
 15° 
krm
Broken-record words,
twirl in the lobes of a brain.
Donā€™t play again.
 15° 
Faizel Farzee
I danced to the tune of your heartbeat
I love to the memory of your touch
I'll bleed just to see your smile for one more fleeting moment
I'll give up my soul just to hear your Angelic voice calling my name

In the bitter end
The truth decaying my numbing mind
Words like daggers through a fragile heart
These words floating in a river of hatred
The honesty of your love undefined

You moving forward in life
leaving me broken and blind
Truthfully, love and hate both have four letters
This time your love was unkind.
When love only flows one way
no matter how hard you try
When every part of you is craving their touch
when they say that they love you
Yet it's the kind of love that's never enough
It's a love that hurts,
It's a love that lost all the smoothness of being gentle
a love that wholeheartedly rough.
 15° 
fallacies
your eyes still look familiar
but the looks they give me now are foreign
I shouldā€™ve
waited
for someone
like
her to
come
into my
life.
 13° 
Nat Lipstadt
Why Men Cry in the Bathroom

For so many reasons.
I will tell you the why.
I think you know,
Or perhaps, you think you know.

Men are always O.K.,
Even when not.

We expect the worse,
Accept the worse,
Nonetheless,
We are forever unprepared.

Wearily, we cry,
In the bathroom, in private,
Lest sighs slip by,
We be unmasked,
Early warring, strife signs warning.

Copious, tho we weep
Before the mirror confessor,
It is relief untethered,
Unbinding of the feet,
An uncounting
Of beaded rosaries,
Of freshly fallen hail stones,
Of night times terrors
By dawn's early edition's light,
and welcomed.

But look for the mute tear,
The eye-cornered drop,
*** tat, that never drops,
But never ceases formation and
Reforming, over and over again,
In a state of perpetuity of reconstitution,

The tippy tear of an iceberg revealing,
And I see you peeping, wondering,
What is beneath


Look for:
the torn worm-eaten edges of spirit,
thrift shop bought, extra worn,
grieving lines neath the eyes,
where the salt has evaporated,
discolored the skin.
worry lines,
under and above,
browed mapped, furrowed boundaries.
the laugh line saga,
where better days are stored,
recalled, as well as recanted,
publicly, privately.

Why just men?

I don't know,
Perhaps,
it is all I know.


Jan 6, 2013
your effusive and lengthy comments are each a poem in their own right.  

Tinkered with June 22, 2013
With a push from Bala,
A serial peeper, thank God!
 13° 
Bijan Rabiee
With an old secret
I sank into her endless eyes
Pondering over laws
That effected such marvel
And leased me to madness
Words were melting in my mouth
She, refraining her turn of phrase
A tear rolled down my cheek
Stirring passion's tongue
A tear rolled down hers
Wielding my soul ablaze
I rejoiced in silence
Lest i betray my confidence
She handled my eyes
Spotting my inference
I could no longer bear
The fruits of my fear
I leaned over and touched
Her sculptured nails tenderly
Freeing my emotion
She smiled coyly
Sealing my devotion.
 12° 
Saint kaya
The sky is
A graveyard of stars

And I remark
Something so tragically beautiful

Just like fireworks of art
From here to the nearest star

And I wish
I could lay awake
In the night

With you
And our lingering hearts

And tell you all about a tragedy
Called life
 11° 
emnabee
The poet lives two lives.
One on the outside,
And one in their mind.

When you look in their eyes
You could see an abyss.

If you looked long enough
You could sink into it.

But most people donā€™t see it.

Take the time to read the words, though,
And you would know for sure.

The poet lives in two different worlds.
A little escape from the madness.
Or maybe, into.
 10° 
CLARYT
If I seem broken on the inside,
It was him. Not you,


(C)eileenmcgreevy@ymail.com 23/10/2019
Scars left by another, seen by the one who loves us now
 10° 
badwords
The man is mad but, he is fair
The hostages' fate flips in the air
The coin tumbles, two sides, a pair
Gravity steers to the man in his chair

"Fate" says the man, "is in our hands"
Result occluded, desperate strands
The verdict of nefarious plans
"We all want--NO! We demand!"

"We all believe there is something owed"
"A cache of treasure just for us, stowed"
"Our wealth for subscribing to control"
"A fruitless and folly toll"

The man of madness makes his reveal
The future of the captives it did seal
Heads or tails, bound they reel
Hopes palpable of a favorable deal

"It seems that you will all be set free"
A sigh emanates amongst the captive company
Bonds removed, Stockholm comradery
A passing dismissal to the powers that be

"Free from 'freedom', this was your chance"
"To escape this tired song and dance"
"You could have been heroes, not this stance"
"To return to comfortable circumstance"

"The path you celebrate was the failure state"
"Decency and humanity to arbitrate"
"I cannot harm a life doomed to wait"
"More than the misery in your own stake"

"I have achieved nothing but, you have lost"
"A life with no meaning worth the cost"
"A Hallmark version of Faust"
"A reality casually glossed"

The hostages promptly depart
All aside from this seeming upstart
Younger then the rest, set apart
Comes inquisition from the heart;

"Did you think these people would change their minds?"
"Where fed insipid mediocrity is all there is left to find?"
"A people who measure themselves in how far they are behind?"
"Zealots perpetuating ego with no concept to be kind"

The man takes the coin of 'governance' and reveals the truth:

It was blank on both sides.
 10° 
zelda rangel
i am barely breathing
Ā Ā  tell me this is not my destination
Ā Ā  i just want to ask you somethingā€”

is this where i truly belong?
Ā  i am trying! oh god, yes, i am!
Ā Ā when did it all go wrong?

all the lies i fed myselfā€”it is becoming real
Ā Ā  i have always known it
Ā Ā  i was never meant to heal
no such thing as a crybaby im doing fine guys
 10° 
MetaVerse
If
If he's a she
& she's a he,
& y + x
is race + ***,
& men on Mars
observe the stars,
& Wuhan's flu
was made for you,
what is the price
of tea & rice
in China if
your neck is stiff?
 9° 
misha
your name is
forbidden in
my mouth
or in my heart
because when
i think about
you;

i'll cry a little more,
hurt a little stronger
love a little softer
because you no longer
make me feel sober

i'm drunk on the
memory of you
if only i could chase you with pizza but shots don't work like that
 9° 
ketjil
You canā€™t compare yourself
With the unbroken girls
Surrounding you
You already shattered
Creating
A new form
Of beautiful

-jt
a somewhat older poem
I wanted to scream
Until I heard the
Whistling in my ear.
I wanted a song
To pair with the freight
Train crashing through
My heart.
I wanted to feel my
Bones shatter
At the impact.

But instead,
I implode
And my lips pull
Into a smile.
"Donā€™t worry,
Iā€™ll be fine
In a while".
 9° 
Poetoftheway
donā€™t tell me ā€œI love youā€ ~by Roxanne, for Cyrano~

<>

thatā€™s a verse Iā€™ve heard many too times before,
thatā€™s a curse of low majesty, a quatrain too plain,
if thatā€™s your best sally, retreat, say no more,
too simp verses, or ungolden silences, agents of dissatisfying pain

I need the best of your taste
the finest visions that you eyelids occlude,
make haste for my mouth grows exceedingly
impatient for the other senses to do their tandem wooing

slap only my face with the creature comforts others savor,
words of diamonds and pink pearls mined from your breast,
the bejeweled words that will decorate my evergreen,
that never dies, lest, unless and until,
you want my mortal affection suppressed

give me your linguistic promiscuity, wake me from the stupor
of ordinary, arouse me with thy tongue coiling, a bee sting delivery,
a wet poem that makes all my orifices!|offices weep, your mouth,
my souls recouper,
your wizardry bewitching,
answer my inquiry with unbounded festivity

then and after all, the plain simplicity of an ā€œI love you,ā€
will be edged with sublimity, my mercies, your mercies
our jointed, sharp pointy, introverting, interlocking,
our futures becoming
our pasts


11:07am
19-9-30

<>

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