The stream (all workshops)
Bullshit, verbal leakage,
you are putrid seepage,
dripping down my mind.
Your a waste, a product of filth
a perverted fornicater
a grubby little gob shite of the worst kind
Bullshit verbal leakage
every time I see you
I feel the need to lobotomise
and lose my tiny mind.
Setting sun cast its golden rays
Upon the sprawling coconut beach
Rolling living screen of events
Reflected the travails in glassy sea
Days of ripples in spiral modulation
Of fleeting fanciful images evoking
Compulsive contemplative inducement
A mood desperately looking for answers
To the pertinent question of providence
Through the ages by the man of desire
Where do we come from?
Why are we here?
Where do we go from here?
You Pulled A fast One
You sent shivers down many a spine
Including Shirley and mine
We were worried
All this while,
As you hadn't commented
In your own style
Though I am aware
You have to be read three
Is to one
Maybe none
But Stan don’t make us run,
Surgery is no fun,
Life has to be lived well
Ere we all go to the knell,
I won't say heaven or hell,
As in both
Through life's sojourn
Here alone we dwell.
They say that I've been sick a while
that things like this are slow to grow
message delivered with a false smile
behind their eyes I think they know
Too many years, too much excess
health advisories unheeded
(I thought that they were all unneeded)
but I'm proven wrong, I guess
far too often I said yes
So here I lie in sterile room
no choice but take this final chance
hoping surgeons now can thwart my doom
as anesthetic feeds into I.V.
Multi-colored streaking lights, wash across my windshield's night
Wiper shadows swishing past, keeping pace with raindrops fast
The motor purrs, and tires shussssh, through icy puddles... slush
Gosh, I guess that Autumn's come, a little cooler, dwindling sun
Geese in their high flying vees, and bright colors in the trees
Squirrels frantic in their gathering, different birds begin to sing
I see the signs of Summer's end, I feel that I have lost a friend
Oh well, it's time to go, the shitty weather tells me so
Grateful is one
Who loves the worth of another one.
So as we all on the Internet move,
Some new ones arrive,
Few go,
Others who miss the fun
Do often return
Hopefully,
till the sunrises each morn
And
The horizon isn't forlorn,
The skies remain blue,
As much as the sea
I’m quite sure Neopoet
Will many elite poets see.
Those who finally bring us all
To lime light
And
Hope we all add
A wee bit of our mite
The perception is all yours,
like it not, the mirror of recognition
is a poisonous drink, drink to your fill
and fill in your own blanks with discontent,
bewildering
the sky with its savage heat, the ultimate desperation
is a communicable disease,
if one
should think about one's thinking;
consider the atomic structure of an
internal sun
the sun neither hides nor carries
shadows but for what stands in its way,
the moon makes no overtures of disclosure
to things that come what may,
Elegance, you were a descendant of evil, I swear
I never felt skin to the likes of yours
You were a drug, an addiction. I am in withdrawal
Manic, you were a child of a rainstorm, I swear
You were uncovered in a tomb of gold
I never held my heart from you. You are a caged bird
Infatuation, you were the sun on a winters day, I swear
I never felt radiance in another like you
You were a fire, burning glory. I am smoldering
Bull shit, verbal leakage,
you cruise in 2nd gear
When you should be in 3rd,
You don't engage your brain
Your a waste of space
All you can do is fornicate
And procreate that any ape can do
The fact of your existence offends
Makes me want to stamp you out,
Scream and holler
bull sit verbal leakage
I want expunge you
I need lobotomise my memory of you
Obliterate the stain
THIS STILLNESS
There is a stillness deep
a silence that soothes
and terrifies
no words can be spoken
the noise of living
fades into distant places
and I wait quietly pretending
the world doesn't speak to me
the same way it did before
my words are sharp and clear
yet somehow fade and disappear
heard by none
my art if art it be
hides my soul in metaphor
and the stories I tell
are me in hell
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