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The stream (all workshops)

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


There Was

There was a hundred acres
Covered impressively , humbly
In baby green grass. Perfect in height,
Perfect in toe wiggly softness.
Sprinkled in baby blues, buttered yellows,
Sweetened orange and oh so vivid violet.

There was a hill in the center of a hundred acres.
And the stone found there read:
"She loved her children till it hurt."
It hurt for a life time and nary a twinge
Would she alter.


At last you feel the weight
That every thought has an opposite.
It is the deepest felt irony
That there is resurrection
Because of annihilation.

I know from feeble senses
Of light and blackness,
Of living and not living,
Joy of the fullness
And sorrow, O exterminating angel,
Or orgasm connecting pain to ecstasy.
I know of war, where love and hatred meet,
I know from the very center of me
That everything is in contradiction.

And I don’t have a goddamn idea
What to do about it.

The perpetual universe theory

The perpetual universe theory

My world expands into a thousand billion soft strands
Of light and gold and the hold
Of a simple hand will make my heart
Like butter, moulded
Me anew into something sweeter, and easier to behold..

When you’re done, the universe, in reverse,
Does it physics, in verse, and engineers feats
Of emotional recoiling, and ensures a dampened heart..
And a dry thirsting spirit, toiling , awaiting that moist sweet rain,
That which became so familiar in..

Fragile Heart

Why aren't you
Put in a box
Titled fragile
Handle With Care

You have been broken
so many times
I don't see the point
In extended warranty

You have loved
Raced through red lights
Broken time and time again

Still you carry out your task
With no complaint
Loyal to a fault
You don't question the mission
Like a soldier in battle

In your private quarters
how many tears have fallen
How many times did you
Question your existence


I can hear them, the voices, the shouts,
the cries of hurt and solidarity.
Me too, moi aussi, anch’io
no boundaries.

I could add my voice.
I remember the chaffing of the rope,
the cut of serrated steel,
the boot shaped bruises.
The entering of my person was in fact the least of the violations.
He still did not possess me.

Like Curls Of Gray Smoke

How frequently we pivot in life when we fall in love with something.
Having been given heart, mind and free will.
We are still programed to pursue it.

If it hurts, forgive till your heart begins to harden.
Hold on tightly until your hands are sore, torn and callused,
falling away,withered like dried dandelion.

When you keep your eyes averted from the truth you witness;he never loved you.
Let go of your aching mind, let fall away any why's, any questions of doubts of what you may believe you did or didn't do.

A Quintessence Of Verse

much of this world is dear to poet dreamers.
As crazy lovers of prosody listen in to the quintessence of verse,
then a bright and dancing word verve must ignite the mental quixotic sea of dazzling swirling poem-birth..
I recollect the impossible town of my birth and I idolise the veins of our dear and daring poem dead..,
May the eternal God come home soon because a sea of angels is now eating at my versing vamping poetic honey tree..


I'm stronger
Than the miligrams
Running in my blood stream

I have fought demons
Created by this mind
Quite ironic, wouldn't you say

This pen is not just a utencil
It's a brother in arms
Holding you when hearts race

Only if I could silence that voice
That takes me prisoner
I wish I could ask
What crime am I guilty of

These four walls would sob
even the northern star
Would look away


Clock's alarm blares me awake.
Another planned day has begun,
with little done for pleasure's sake
each hour scheduled sun to sun.

And I drift through it like a ghost,
this day just like the one before,
not one event of which to boast.
No surprises any more.

Until week's end brings Saturday
and I wake up with a smiling face
well before the break of day
thinking about another place.

Mystical Moon Beams

where do we seek when the bottom falls out
when you can't even think to dismiss this earthly bliss with a time well spent in thought
such as the razor's edge we release the stern warning toward one another
look out on a crisp Autumn day until the night to the moon
if we be still the peace will resonate through our very being
my soul permeates the very fabric of my existence
out there many miles to stride in our vast universe the earth's moon
there are beams that spray a scent of vast illumination


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