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The stream (all workshops)

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



surly dampened purity
svelte sweet tonality
in the personality of
tensile pressure
footstep measure

concubine moon
ovid bath
tides sluggish sway
cupped water embraced

brows tested in hot
damp easy structure
forms arched
mouth parted
philtrum thwarted moist

bulb shimmer pulse glow
in urban bloc palatial
a poverty chance

slake a charged mercurial
nymph whipped medusa
drape crown pressed
on wingback ghostly
waiting branch


Beans like passing winds
The Chinook of the breakfast table
Moving silently on by,
Easy ones will out
Cheeks ascending
A left or right rise,
What a cheek.
Not rosy or rouged
Pale white orbs
Kept out of sight

Just like politics
You lean to the left or right.
Leaving a nasty smell
Blame someone else
Oh! What the hell
But never your Mother


The spring wind is in the eaves tonight
and it moans a solitary sound
while I sit beneath a reading light
listening to my old heart pound.

Sometimes I read on nights like this
after Susan's gone to bed
and while she's dreaming of some bliss
some author's tale fills up my head.

And other times I take my pen
to write of things I've said or done
not knowing when the tale will end
once the ink's flow has begun.

Kast brakken

Bare streets
brare skies
like lidless
eyes awaiting
visions from
the sulken
brawl of lamp

An odor of
the hour
climbs the
steps of stairs
in its case
a ghost mandolin

Baby why we need
to turn against
the flush cheek
burning like
a wind slap

Happiness was
a cup a home
to lovers
crawling through
its lairs
sipping of its
ale its drink

now its silence
and tranqs
by the sink

A Write

Words counted
Syllables checked
A mess
Without form
No tune
Originality Gone
Ears aching.
Leave me alone..

Beautifully Murdered By Buddha.

aimed my eyeballs
with slow precision
became Zen like
lost myself
quite beautifully

Buddha staring
into my probing
no sign of
the Virgin Mother

High Noon
minus the violence
the intensity
knocked me

no more seeking
no more
worried looks
which scatter away
the weak visioned
sleepwalking drones
who contemplate

The Back Scratcher

I can no longer scratch my back
My left wrist hurts like it's crazy
Running all way up my elbow
I can barely use my left arm.

While some with ease can twist their arms
I can no longer scratch my back
Like I'm used to since forever
Now my wrist hurts like it crazy.

Carpal tunnel has my right hand
The pain running way up my arm
I can no longer scratch my back
As easily as I used too.

A Time To Grieve

Just shed your tears and let it pour
Don't hold back, your heart is sore

Release the anger! Go ahead and scream!
My friend, I know that life can be grim

Don't let the pain consume your soul
and leave you bitter and feel so cold

Do spare some time to grief, my dear
but don't dwell too long here

The dead will want you to move on
to strive until your time is gone

So cry until your tears are dry
and keep their legacy alive


where I sit and recall
the times passed
music, loved ones....all

it's also where I dream
of the things to come
plans and hopes

the future

So here I am
in a never ending tension
being pulled in both directions
Ever riding the crest of Now's wave
as it rolls across
the ocean of time

And as time goes its ceaseless way
it changes
just like me
as I surf in
the now.

brothers r u koming?

When we are gone

There is no one there to welcome
no garland
no red carpet treatment
no special coffee
no juices for me
no milk no sugar is needed

but by then we are all just a memory
hanging about a tall Eucalyptus tree
far in the distant ocean
or simmering horizon
they all ask fast
has the sun set at last?
I hear someone say in my ear
though deaf be I may
sweet guy don't cry be happy
no cancer injections now for thee


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