The scent of breeze
salty and dampening
wakes me up from myself
and my heart gasps to meet
the sand of shore rubbed on my
bare back. It is the cure
of life taking not stealing
away your bed.
Two hours, that's all it
takes to know the blue before
you isn't the floor of your
girl's boudoir. If life must
make any sense a minute after
your realisation, you must
wade into the nifty shore and
mend the night taken away.
Wave after wave, you would
find it running back with arms

...drowning in deep love
breathless anticipation
suspended in hope.

Where Wild Flowers Grow.

Children playing in the evening sun
running around, just having fun.
Dogs chasing balls happy to play
rolling in the grass late in the day.
A couple sitting on the ground
trying not to make a sound.
Where so much happened, long ago
on the field where wild flowers grow.

The festive beats of doom
Intensified metronomically in my bedroom
The raucous raw of invisible laughter
Reverberating through impressionable walls
Echoing in zoom
Tearing my curtains assunder
Pulling down the mighty roofs
Atop my atrocious bed sheets
And uncovering my nudity

I learn my lessons the hard way
I choose to walk the broad way
In the company of mediocrity in broad day
Fused, used and mused, like the potters clay

I question every day 
Does morality exist?  
Is there a contrast
In between what is right 
and what wrong is? 

I am not in a place 
To judge humanity
everyone is free 
To do whatever the fuck they want.

If you want to devote your life to Jesus, 
Go ahead.
If you want to eat your life away, 
Go ahead. 
If you want to get high every day,
Go ahead.

But if there is one thing that is not acceptable,
It is to take another person’s life.

Echo. Ever echoing come
words from the wild wood

drifting, always beckoning
that I should come for good

to the deep and the deepening
dusty silent still

heart, heart of the forest where
the thumping darkness will

find every thought in me
and lay them thick and flat

out on a carpet
of moss and bluebell sat

down, down in the forest,
lost to the mystery

solved and resolved to the silence
ever encircling me.

What do I want?
I ask this to myself every day.
Do I want to have ten cars in my drive way?
Do I want a wife?
Do I want kids?
Do I want to go partying every weekend?
Do I want to enjoy a good book on my porch?

Well…

I want that and much more.

I know that I want to be the father that I never had.
I know that I want a beautiful wife to love eternally.
I do want to go out and enjoy myself once in a while.
And I do want to enjoy a good book. Many good books.

riotface97 with his poem of "Ivan the Terrible and His Son" canvas by Repin.
The poem is in free-verse and there is an audio on Sound Cloud.
soundcloud.com/neopoet/ivan-the-terrible-and-his-son-by-nick-rio

severed flesh, in blood we trust
cat 'o nine tails ripping meat
scalpel carving naked sinner
dinner for our soul to eat

tow rope stretching out a neck
iron maiden spiking prey
shards of glass shoved up an ass
oh, it's been a bitchin' day!

draw and quarter, slash and burn
nothing ventured, nothing gained
rape upon a torture rack
seems a tad bit unrestrained

severed flesh, in blood we trust
cat 'o nine tails ripping meat
scalpel carving naked sinner
dinner for our soul to eat

tow rope stretching out a neck
iron maiden spiking prey
shards of glass shoved up an ass
oh, it's been a bitchin' day!

draw and quarter, slash and burn
nothing ventured, nothing gained
rape upon a torture rack
seems a tad bit unrestrained