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The stream (all workshops)

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


Our Story

We are only specks of dust
in this vast universe,
defying the odds to survive
since time immemorial.

We have revolutionized
our lives, raising standards
by embracing technology
and miracles of science.

We continue to evolve,
growing stronger and faster
until time ravage our flesh
and we became one
with Mother Nature..

Untouchable (160730)

Invisible tears pour from my eyes
Where are you that stole my sanity?
Give me a break from this drought.
Where thoughts carousel repeatedly.

I only dared to love you, there in me,
dreading that you should leave me alone
“Not possible” the thought echoed a tune.
“You are captured and can never be free.”

“I am part of you and your reeling sanity,
so give up and learn to live with this scene.”
What have you left now, in my lost mind?
“Just relax then return to me your dream.”

The black tulip

Black tulip
You’re but two copies of rare, frail, filigrees,
words lost across hemispheres, centuries apart,
the north holding one to warm it's chest,
the other lost in this great longing south

I wander around this contrived library, possessed
of crystals, china, harps and hearths,
histories cocooned in wealth swept under
the pasts inglorious floor

Gem of a Diamond

Failure, sorrow and deprivation...
are the manures of exquisite poetry....
agree or don't,
remain silently so pleased....

Gems, are only produced
and diamonds,
when chiselled with sharply pointed angles...
to bring out the sheen,
the magnificence...

without which the Kohinoor,
would be like just any other stone,
may be
just a piece of charcoal....

on aging

Bifocal glasses- on once sparkling eyes
My past the point waist
Requires a large size
Aging triceps flap in the wind
I am reminded of this when I wave at a friend
Ponderous breasts - men see as a tease
No longer do they defy gravity
Rogue hairs grow randomly
on my chin like weeds
And sweat on my forehead erupts in beads
I am a scarred warrior of 'what has been'
My arsenal- spray tan and anti-aging cream
Relief! Reprieve from battle - at the end of my day
in dreams, my brain will have its way

The Lennie Situation.

Today may be the end
They are coming for my head
I never let it get to me but right now I can't pretend.

The clock has come to halt
the stockade is ready and locked
the crowd is gathering in the square to mock, to throw, and taunt.

Do I go in peace
Do I scream out in rage
Do I try to represent myself, and plea to the court my case?

I guess this is just life
decisions of mice and men
Figure out, do I let it go, or should I bring it's end.

Bitter sweet symphony

Want to know just how I feel
I'll tell you now something real

I loved her when our hearts were pure
tho now the fire burns no more

I gave you trust you gave me lust
The golden circle has now bust

Fear me not I mean no harm
our chemistry has lost its charm

Don't bite your tongue and say your worth
Won't bite my tongue that can hurt

I seek the truth an what I found
A web of lies so tightly wound

I hate you not for choices  made
Tho I won't be one who's at your aid

Ever Spinning Webs

Misty rain falls on sparkled silky web
An insect's craft adorns full blossomed bush
For a spiders kill, although time does ebb
Alone with battled fly there seems no rush

Surrounded by maturing trees I see
One leaf before, greener than the other
Each coming year rebirth from memory
Some months until there will be another

The scent of fresh cut grass sits on the breeze
But hope I will it lingers more and sigh
For youthful memories will pass with ease
Alas, could beg a teardrop from the eye


I do not know why,
but I have come to accept and wear
the anger and the pain and the hatred
like a scratchy old blanket.

I didn't want to be like this,
I didn't want it to be like this.
I wanted to be listened to
and understood.
But nobody has time for that,

Certainly not the church and her Holy Rollers,
we walked in expecting nothing
are were certainly not disappointed.


Winnfields on the dash
petrol in the tank
a black market
HO Ford
New Extractors
Chino's and
Chelsea Boots
Driving with the windows
down on the old Hume
47o with a slight calling
of precipitation
dropped a gear and
left a combi on a grade
2SM on the radio
Bang a fist
"Bloody Oath Mate!"
grin a cocky snarl
rocketing along
the speedo needle
Big Set of Boots
biting the road
and miles to go
for Melbourne



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