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ploughing through Sextons book still..
new room mate..(female)
just now dealing with the ex's that I still
undeniably in love with

all my good and bad and ugly sides
thinking I know it all...
feeding the black wolf and white
rationalizing that I need them
for this work
of life and living..

Bought an Olivetti 1972 portable
black and white....plastic grey
Thinking I can push my body
myself to keep up with everyone
at this age of 49

dressing up in good clothes
when I feel like shit inside
building my wall
to keep those closest out
at the best of times

Since leaving them...
(No more twenty four hour computer hour at the library here
where half of that is reading Facebook
to have a "face" to the personas I craft..)
half of this to the other free poetry sites
I belong too and write too

the rest helping errands
sit and type..hit meetings...
the long haul to work avoiding
public transit because In reality
I dont make enough money
to do much with then buy food
change for the washer next door
and dryer and supplies...

cutting through my denials about
my own anger issues and control
issues and ego and addictions

pushing pain killers to keep
going....on my system
and writing everywhere
my little books

reading when Im not watching
cds I take out from the library
or watching news at night

thinking of Keruoack and Sexton
haunted into the ground and
the others

falling asleep right now
as Im writing this

In my city some have three jobs too
and kids to raise single parents
men and women
physical ailments
and mental health issues

we laugh when we meet out
here....hanging on to what gives
hope.....Prayer or friendship
substances and ghosts

I wear my good clothes to work
so I look good coming through
the city...plaster dust and wear
and tear

a gadfly

sad and happy
angry and lost

need to let go
curl up
have a cry
or raise a fist

or quietly take back
what Ive given out
even though
its painful
and maturing to hear

growing up and growing

I will survive somehow

and I will keep writing...
try to comment
even though now I have
only eight minutes left
and have to get going

sometimes It seems
too much
but Im just human too

just human with
the black and blue....


I understand your pain
I am someone torn
In many directions

Often unappreciated
Often ignored
Loving boys who
Are supposed to be men

I have been beaten
Physically and emotionally
Left with nothing
but a baby and heavy debt

I have rebuilt
Been torn down
And built again

Faced my own fears
My rejections, my failures
Have vowed to make myself
Something some day

Sometimes I feel
selfish and neglected
I am jaded, bitter and wounded
Wounds that never heal

I have children who are difficult
I love them dearly
but two out of three are difficult
I am a mom first
Partner last
though I miss the days
When it was he and I

We are all human
With quirks and attributes
You have a creative mind
A vulnerable soul

Thank you Steven for the insight into your life...are you on Facebook? I am as well...

Keep Writing,

"Quoth said the Raven, NEVERMORE"

steven howard schamehorn...
I write poetry there too..
and another site..
gotta run

author comment

find you

Keep Writing,

"Quoth said the Raven, NEVERMORE"

beautiful days and cold starry nights
Harvest moon come and gone...
we wait for winters flurries and soft
downy wake
slipping through the funuerary trees
and dead summer grasses

sought and seek

cold and warmth

my body aches like my mind
full of its haunted run
its dissalusionments
and cracks like a sidwalk
aged....a ceiling shifted
with time
settling with its burden
of years

poetry reading here soothes
my wounds
the music lulling
the hungry beast
dulling the sharp toil
of darkness
turning in my heart

author comment

it flows like blood
through my collapsing veins

Twisting, turning, burning
draining the life
From what was once
a giving soul

Numbness settles in
like an old friend
Robbing me of my emotions
and my inability to think

How I wish I could feel again

Keep Writing,

"Quoth said the Raven, NEVERMORE"

thats me....I need sleep for my deprevations
that haunt me and drive me
My writing a fuel at times...
but sleep so hour here in the day
curled up like a wolf ..a dog.. a cat..
then up and running again..

We need to replenish ourselves
meditate and vegetate at times
otherwise I find I fall down into the dark
the forest with no way home
the labyrynth I love
but its not home..not where one lives...
just a loved place to visit sometimes..

keep writing...
keep a dream


author comment

Kids seem to always be awake
I need a break
The car was icing on the cake
Killing myself for nothing
I would love to curl up
Just to have a little peace

Keep Writing,

"Quoth said the Raven, NEVERMORE"

To you both I send my unconditional love
and healing for your troubled ways.
If only I could send a solution to all your troubles
But we are here to learn,
though you both seem to have chosen hard lessons to learn.
I shall just then send you peace of mind
where if you look inward there you will find
a pure Spirit that is the real you,
Good Morning both it is now 00-09 am.
A cough past midnight lol
Yours Ian.T and friends

There are a million reasons to believe in yourself,
So find more reasons to believe in others..

I chose this life because I believed in some one with a past. I am not sorry I believed in this person..often just wish the feeling was reciprocated...I love my friends I have made here and am glad to have you in my corner.

Keep Writing,

"Quoth said the Raven, NEVERMORE"

that you now can't at 49
when ur my age 94
hahahha i can guess
no less no more


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