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The stream (all workshops)

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

 

Each day

Each day I breath anew
With every moment I smile
In my heart I sing

Your laughter holds the world
My hand carasaed in yours
Theres butterflies in my stomach,
Love in my every move

Your arms are my escape
Come see me fly
Help me soar
Be my modivation

Love me forever darling
Watch me smile
Live my life
Be my one and only baby

g i s e l l e

dirty beneath her nails
like dark carpet trails
and kraft dinner leaking
from the pot like pails

nude light bulbs topped
with fluff
gathered round her
all her stuff
happy singing to her
songs
the grubby coloured
humming earbuds
as
she sang along

I often wondered
how and whys
we dangered landscapes
high as sails
full of winds of addicts psalms
immersed in magic
tragic balm
the epic nearness
of hearts calm

I did write your name

Today,
Upon
My right palm
I did write your name
Not with ink
In awesome colors
Neither blood
Unsparingly
But, with
Each tear.

Each drop, slowly wiped away,
Stained my flesh
Your name only
It did smear
Yes, oh lover of my soul
Today,
Upon my right palm,
I did write your name
With my each and every
Tear.

Workshop part three ( storytelling in verse)

Long was the night
and longer still the shadows
I readied all for our wedding night
Eddie Styx is to be my best man
Should he take a night from stalking

The preacher, sanctimonious old goat died last week
So he shall be at his prime
The menu a feast to behold
served cold, as the road it was killed on

Lorraine, Lorraine I come for you this night
There on her balcony she stood
beautiful, warm and alive
This too shall pass

EXIST, EXILE

Exist, exile,
when set aside
for that last mile,
a trial at close of day.

Why me, not you.
'Tis for the few
to end at break of day,
my life not easy,
trouble free,
and yet it had its way.

Through times of joy
and times of sadness
times of freedom,
times employed.

Twinned the two halves
joined in gladness,
mother, father's seed
developed into me.

Straight From Your Pen

Great poetry comes straight from
Pens of great poets 
Not stifled by egos 
That hinder 

Willing to work on weaknesses taking liberties
Born from loins and wombs
Not literal, just poetical
That heals 

Inner self tortured by soul
Flaming with passion and distresses

Straight from your pen 
Titles were created, inducing
Creativity, flexibility in
Writing grandeur poems

I Walk In Spirit and Truth, Not Dark and False

There's a principle in the Bible
That says
Do unto those who CAN'T do unto you
In equal
Feed the poor
Provide for the widows
Look after orphans

There's a principle in the world
That says
Do unto those who CAN do unto you
In equal
Feed the poor
Provide for the widows
Look after orphans

In my experience
I've been and still am poor
Unable to eat from tables
Designed to
Feed the poor
Provide for the widows
Look after orphans past and present

Reverend Director II...

Now the silence is suddenly broken
as Killer's boots whisper on the floor
The reverend sounds a "heh" of satisfaction
"She's coming back for more"

"Who's there" he says, is it you?
Now you get yourself on back here
No one will know, if you do
You ain't got nothing to fear

A hardened hand grasps his throat
and another holds a knife
Little grunts escape his lips
and he struggles for his life

WHEN I FALL

This full catastrophe living
is tough
morning catcalls of capricious longing
an abstemious journey that leaves me replete

with nothing

my mother always said
the reason why love matters
is so that we'll live life well
feel in sync,
even be lucky enough to be
touched

by an angel

Word Machine

It's when I'm dead tired,
it's when I'm up at one in the morning,
It's when my eyes are bloodshot,
It's when the ink of the paper bleeds onto my hands,
It's when the world has gone dead silent,
That I am the best poet I could ever be,
So lets stay up one last time,
And lets kick ass.

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