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The stream (all workshops)

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



A grey-green wall of water
Flecked with creamy-white
Moves with a growly, steady speed
Undetected through the stormy night

Drowning, smashing, crushing
Obliteration universal
Don't think that you are special
It's really nothing personal

Mother Nature is having a tantrum
She's about to cry
Her winds swirling in a circle
The calm is in her eye

She knows what she is doing
Hell hath no fury like her
A perfect storm is coming, dah'ling
You're in for it, for sure


I could Swim in your Eyes Forever.
You've Melted my Heart <3

I could Play in your Smile Forever.
You've Grasped my Univerze.

Rique Wolf

It is Love

Start with self
then keep adding
from ones own womb
to universal tomb

you will need more experience
to find out
what love really is
it's undefinable

You will soon realize
it has facets so many

One may go up
without knowing it
great vision still
I 'd grant to ye

Rafaela #2

Rafaela as you see her now seated upon the sofa
Her soft body unveiling itself
Will be the most humanized portrait of the lot
And the most famous
Painted in the same rotund angular
Style her mistress will be known for
Yet with more depth and feeling
Less sharp and rigorous than
The dead eyed minxes that came before her

if we have each other

We were 15 and just trying to be cool
Logos prep academy is where we go to school
Going to our soccer practice and just trying to survive
we were clinging to the fact that we were finally alive
but at home, my parents always fought
filling up our house with unkind and dirty thoughts
I would sit alone in bed just wishing for a friend
then I met Abigail and never did again
now ill never be alone
have a hand to hold
and when nights are cold
ill say
the world's not perfect
but it's not that bad

Hotel Transylvania Bleu...

As he checked into the hotel
The famous Transylvania Bleu
He noticed a face he'd seen before
In the mirror that's facing you

She looked hauntingly familiar
She stared into his eyes
He stared right back at her
With no small surprise

Six foot four and muscles
He had a kind of rugged look
He supposed the lady enamored
And he signed into the book

He turned to scan the crowd
She was nowhere to be found
Then right there at his elbow
When he turned back around

Behind the Answer

Heat behind the eyes intensifies as tears well up,
saliva pools in the mouth, swallowing to send it down.
that lump in the throat threatens to send me over,
all in response to a question making my heart cave in.

Just breathe. In. Out.

Bitten nails scratch into the palm as the hands clench,
shoulders tense then release, attempting to relax.
Eyes drawn to the scars marking my hands, haunting,
memories of the darkness comes back flooding.

Answer them. Look up.

I'm fine thanks, how have you really been?

The windshield wipers were in sync with the music
“Kashmir’s” pedestrian bass beats the rainwater out of view.

This busy stretch of road moves in the dark
in front, a never ending moving reel of film

pulling up, stopping at the train station
suitcases are coughed up from the trunk.

the car pulls away into the rain, wipers still moving magically
as I watch as the rain blurs it all, until only the red prisms of taillights show.

Toasty Tootsies,

As winter slaps the arse autumn
and lambs no-longer bleat.
I'm glad I saw these socks n bought 'em--

I've got reeaally frigid feet.


A Nod To The November Themes

Arm that plays with the wind
'tis mine but feels too free.
Travel light and travel fast;
the window down helps.
City lights and plights;
wish I could outrun myself.
No luck nor dice;
a spiritual rewrite?
No God would mistake
me for a worthy soul.

Maybe this time will be different.


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