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The stream (all workshops)

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


The Rectitude I Thought I Had

To have been thinking all this time
Misconceiving all I've seen

Now realizing that all this time
How innocent and green I've been

For neither thought I had possessed
Had rectitude within it's bind

And sad how I so firmly pressed
All this rubbish in my mind

For as the sun had risen by
And told me how the world is true

Bamboozled was, please clarify
How all these thoughts I thought were true...

Project Runway

Project Runway


Who first called these the golden years,
some bard still in his youth?
If he lived to be my golden age,
he’d know the woeful truth.

You get a slowness to your gait,
your memory’s not so great,
your ears start getting longer with each day.
You can’t chew, you can’t screw,
minor bumps turn black and blue.
and your hair gets grey and slowly goes away.

The Apartment

Binding and grinding a contract can be,
Wishing and hoping to be now free.
But life is a contract to be met on its terms,
And death is the clause that foreclosure concerns.
The Landlord is Just, He gives each full measure
Of time on this earth to squander or treasure.
The rooms that you have belong to Him too -
The walls may be pleasant or ugly or blue.
But who dwells within is your own property,
Be it loving or caring or in misery.
The joy of the spirit is payment and more

Give Them A Flush

There are people that can
and there are people that can't.
There are people that could
if they just had the chance.

If the world only knew
What only could be
If they opened their eyes
and started to see.

They would find out how much more there was.
See God is so awesome, the things that he does.

So many people that just don't care.
They just want what they want
and that doesn't seem fair.


I am but a shadow
In the dark resides;
I stand on the other side,
Just looking at the passersby -
Silently awaiting the night.

I am but a ghost
Whose colors do not fit,
Whose hues cannot be mixed
With that of the other world.

I am but a being
That saunters on empty streets,
Breathing freely in the silent world,
Drifting in and out -
Never belonging anywhere.

dream dreamers

Dream all Lovers and Friends

Your poetry is so dreamy
When do you
come out from dreams

I rarely get one long dream
so don't worry
I love dreaming too
no hurry keep dreaming
it makes life happy

All those who do dream
go beyond a river’s stream
all others keep lying
in hopes

Some beautiful butterflies,
would come flying
take them away to another dreamland
they too wonder
what it would be

So keep dreaming like me
I don't sleep
but only dream


it's man-made, it's scary
(though a yak made it hairy)
-as if one's not sufficient to fear!
it's exact, every part
right down to no heart
and the wax that stopples each ear.

A Beautiful Flower

Cascading through
A timeless piece
One can learn to understand it's fullest creation
First a seed then the soil
An ever increasing pull through the ground
Sound the alarm
Vanquished from the worms that eat
With time a sprout then the light of illumination
A pulse of radiance sought after colors of deep penetrating taste
An explosion of excellence
Red, yellow and white
The sun beats upon the fullness of it's brevity
Solace has replaced the film in front of the natural eye


Writing on blackboards too high to reach,
Prisoners all - to learn and to teach.
The joys and frustrations of one day in school
Stifle the wise one and aggravate the fool.
Education is touted by scholars and statesmen
Who don't know the who, what, why, or when.
They have much to contribute in rules, lore, and law
But they haven't been able to make sense of it all.
Learning is personal - a near, dear thing
That doesn't wait for a bell to ring.
It reaches and grasps in the most devious ways,


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