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The stream (all workshops)

This is the stream - you can see all poems on Neopoet, live, as they are created.



beneath a torn
atop dust irons escape
wind fingers cool
the slip of nape

dirty denims
ragged shoes
no one here
disturbs the blue

no one here
too make
or break
the devils
idle angry

but secrets
buried in a kiss
closed off in
years a bend
a twist
shelters bureau
stolen scenes
alive like
wicca wicker

The fire sermon.

Beyond the bowed mountain
land that had seethed through its teeth
cracked a thunderous crack
so bold, so low, so ominous
that it sent shivers through the air
and trapped
trundling angels in their tracks.

It brought the scurrying miracle of men
in a nocturnal flurry to the inceptive scene
where lightning greeted the ground
conducted with a petrifying sound
the spark that lit the sibylline tinder world.

We’ve been hitched for a year and
you just don’t get it.
I do what I please
‘cause I ain’t down wid it.

I’m the king of my castle,
don’t want no queen.
Just a cook, a maid and
a sex machine.

Now your booty is a whopper,
your cooter lost its bang
your cooking ain’t no stopper and
you think that you’re Miss Thang.

You spend money like a mutha,
run your mouth nonstop
sayin’ buy me, give me, take me …
shudda fuk up.

in memoriam


I lost a dear, dear friend this day.
the pain of death has no words
that measure the depth of emptiness
and the sickness of a heart torn and bleeding
and itself near to dying.
the soul surrenders to its sorrow,
and tears are shed for stolen tomorrows.

whiskey love

the battered bed
the tired room
the wind blew through
the curtian of soul
she said Love
needed nurture
like flowers
too grow


Childhood entertainment.

Running with glee down the cobblestone street,
full of youthful joy and never downbeat.
Playing football with all the neighborhood kids,
being a nuisance and banging garbage can lids.
Kicking a tin can and throwing stones,
childish pleasures and prepubescent hormones.
Mothers with prams and wailing babies,
girls in the park making chains of daisies.
A screech of brakes and slamming doors,
cricket on Sunday's and summer downpours.
Moths fluttering around the dim streetlight,

smile with me

If you could read my mind
you will smile
how I smile
all my while
many think I'm mental still
but smile I will

why have a dark mind
thinking of tears only

Smile and see
how tears of joy flow
from where they come
to where they go
no one will nor ever know

but they wash away all sadness
that I know
so smile as much will you also
as much as I smile
with thee
smile fellow poet
with me

High Queue

The Dark of the Night
Makes Way for Dawn's Early Light
Then the Sun Shines Bright

Mistress Love...

The cruel indifference of her touch
Set his heart to pounding
He held his breath
Against her breast

She breathed... even as her heart beat
Her barely warm embrace
Chilled his bones
Made him gasp

Needing a connection, he shivered
Stumbling, he mumbled...
Had to say it; “I love you”
Stupid move

Ice cold skin and pale blue eyes
Luke-warm breath
Damped the fires
No passion

She feigned disappointment
Took the blame
He let her

Steel Your Will

When the voices of doubts
threaten to halt your will to strive
and people with cruel thoughts,
their words stab you like a knife.

You see the unbelievers unite
to squander your hopes and dreams
and turn you into ashes in the night
whlle they watch and laugh as you scream.

When your heart aches to walk away,
to be free from the tension they bring
Don't bow, don't surrender, don't stray
but be the little bee with a mighty sting,


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