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


Compromised Travel

There's a bag I hold dearly
Heavy in hand
Weathered and trampled

I've made this bag see
The world beyond
It's deeply scarred skin

I know this bags treasure
(Perhaps not all meant for me)

Loosening the grip
I should let this bag free

How is this done?
When the bag is content
And I, the holder, be filled with lament
That the bag may drop, at best be unhinged
Or may be broken & laid out to rest


Anvil Headed tops are alive with light
seeping through the tall pines sighing
slick with flicker shards
dust rushes from alleys dark mouth
wires moan mournful dirges
Muffled thunder detonation
rolls across the hills
in the strange darkness

The Man In The Hotel Room

(Chris Cornell)

The dealer always collects his debts

a ring heard in the spider reams of spring.

A thought to his black mare, but this strange glare—

The dealer always collects his debts

A ring, a thimble, a scream.

suitor and midwife, Chinese eyes

A thought to his black mare, but here this strange glare—

scarlet in spring; a ring borne 

In the siren song

of a hot, empty spring.

Stay a while longer!

Why do you stay with me?
Time has passed and you are there,
In my dreams I walk with you
In my day I see you at my side.

How can I be so cruel to myself?
Damn it you know it’s not cruel
It is a state I have held for ages
There in my thoughts we remain

Is there a purpose to this daily being?
Maybe but it has been so long now
I do not expect the spring not to come
And the summer to follow its track

Going To France Was Her Dream

Going to France was her dream,
But life is never as good as it seems.
Her life turned out tragically bad.
Now I am very sad.
She will never see Paris or the Eiffel Tower,
Or hear a clock in Cologne chime by the hour.
She was the best she could be.
She meant everything to me.
Now she is in heaven at peace.
My love for her will never cease.
I miss her so much.
How I long for her touch.
Oh how I miss her so.
Just how much,
Only G-d and I will ever know.
Someday I will see her again.

Seeding poetry

As a captain
at forty
I do take it
you are from
the Navy

If I recall correctly
long ago
as Loved
I had read thee

You are a Romantic
poet indeed
who bases all poetry
on the pedestal
where one stood

Though it's not required
poetry must have a seed
like one of a man's
but it must be
by another one
normally, like a lady
who bears
along with thee,



Who can forget
The wonderment?
A ladybug
Tiptoed up your stubby
Little index finger,
Stopped at the top,
Turned its tiny
Alligator face towards you
With its spongy eyes;
Then, like a marvelous toy,
It opened its red backpack
And pearlescent wings unfolded,
Moist with rainbow.
You heard a fast flap,
And it flew into the sun.



Oh such brave jihad extremists
show your courage once again
by targeting young teen age girls.
While your leaders hide.

Do you really think your god
will reward you for such actions
with virgins and paradise?

If so....
What kind of god is he?

In truth there will be no heavenly reward.
Instead prepare to meet your Real master
Who will laugh as you burn
dance as you scream.

And remember we of the West
though slow to anger
hesitant to act
have long memories

My meditational sprayer

My Meditational Sprayer

Blood pressure
is not a disease

When I went for my medicals
a doc said
‘‘No air travel''
but I insisted
whether or not
I would

He gave me ten tablets
asked me to buy more
if I survived the flight

That was only 5 years
down memory lane
I did not from medicine gain
I abandoned


It's more
that we must reduce
our loneliness
our isolation
superficial stress
forced darkness

Now picture this... I communed with chaos and conjured up an ancient conquistador by the name of Quetzalcoatl. He called me a chickenshit coward before grabbing me by my cranial consciousness container; and with a chiropractic crack, just like that, my chakras connected and I channeled the grizzled ghost of Ol' Ronnie Reagan. He gurgled a “Hello” and grumbled, “Just Say No” ...


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