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The stream (all workshops)

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



Sitting with only one lamp on
alone as only old men can be.
A far coyote's song has just begun,
his tribute to being wild and free.

All of the old folks now are gone
so I guess that I am now one of them.
The chair creaks that I'm sitting on.
A cloud outside turns half moon dim.

I was once a coyote too
who roamed where and far as I would please
beneath skies both gray and blue
in woods still and tossed by breeze.

ROSES IN BLOOM (Contest: Changed Perspective)

I feel myself begin to dream
of all the friends who’ve come and been.
So many of them still alive
within the corners of my shadowed mind.

The relatives crowd in there too
as if the afterlife has nothing much to do.
Many are unknown to me
Just names in our troubled family history.

All surround me with their voices
Reminding me of all my poor choices.
And in my secret darkest heart
I know that their deaths played their part.

Civet Cat

If I ask you would you give me some time
A brief moment shared in rhythm and rhyme
I will not ask for any more than that
Just the merest glimpse of sweet paradise
Inhaling your sweet scent of civet cat
Aroma feeding my inner desire
Just a moment of lust shared between us
Ignites the spark of eternity’s fire
The supreme love of Vulcan and Venus
Again, I ask for a moment in time
The question hidden in casual chitchat
My words lost, disguised grains of wild rice
Will your heart see all this that I desire

The Sower of Dream Wax

I would be the sower of dreams,
flossing the dead with new flavors,
spreading mirage matter on abandoned
walls. Better yet as a pair of eyes
rolling in the dark, beneath the lake's
syrupy tide, stained by the pyrite gold
of floodlights; a messy voyeur
a gaze which scalps the night.

Naive (Fear Of The Unknown)

Trying to remember
The last thing you said;
But for every time I tried,
I have always failed.

I wish I could fill
Every silence with your voice.
As a punctuation or better still
As a song of my choice.

I wish I could spend
Sometime in your heart;
Maybe I would comprehend
How much love we share apart.

And though you try to hide
How much you love me.
The fragments that reside
In your smile are there to see.


one more sip
one more shot
one more hit,
of that pot.

Fag Kitten and Little Dead Girl

they danced in a dream
like a bending shadow
face down
a begging ass
hungry back door paradise

ankles strapped on a foot worn floor
paint faced like Ubangi night
with pin needle eyes

in bed
blood red neon's
cutting curtains
like kissing claws
so their bodies wouldn't forget
dark pleasures lightening
and biting tantra tantrums
swallowing mad bitch blossoms of hell candy
breathing the others inhalations
foot sniffing ballet arch
in fastened Japanese yellow paper slippers

Us Whores....

Us Whores…

Leaders stand and preach lies,
as kids cough their way to school.
Above we see darkened sky’s,
why let them corrupt and rule.

Rubbish underfoot polluted air,
rivers run with human waste.
Pollutants in lungs, sticky hair,
if you don’t believe, just taste.

Whales, we all like to call majestic,
seeing them in picture or real life
We poison them with our plastic,
a far cleaner death with a knife.


Darkness continued to light her paths
Since the last sunset sank between the golden hills.
The eastern sun can only bloom with justice
From the knife she had kept under the pillow for weeks,
Or at least, she'll have her freedom in chains.

Her husband will come back looking like a tadpole
That swallowed a full mound of watermelon
With flesh sagging from his cheeks,
And a fist to feast on what's in between her thighs.

Birthing Butterflies

Cherubs fell from the skies
The day I died
Howling owls flew in circles
Wondering if the roses would
Ever bloom again...
And somewhere, nonchalant, a little boy sang
While the moon watched and waited and wondered
And the sailors all came home.


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