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Hear it in your parents' words;
in their sugar-coated testimony of disappointment
and let it
writhe around your neck,
until the ground neath you
slips.

(For your own sake,
don't struggle.)
The first realization of my seventeenth year of life.
 Dec 2014 Afrodita Nestor
Sjr1000
He exchanged his
routines
for the
long dusty road,
he exchanged his
jeans
for a long white jacket
he called it the "white robe."
His hat said "Home"

He took off on the
road only travelers
go.

He had a pretty girl
he was was going to see,
then he knew
he would have to leave.

He stopped saying much,
mainly "thank you"
and "please".

He had exchanged
his mind set
for a new set,
his confusion for clarity
his narrative for poetry,
many said
it had led him astray.

He exchanged his
fullness for emptiness
and
began to take it all in,
the old dusty road became
the only way he knew at all.

He would stand in perfect silence
and
hear it all.
He would stand in perfect stillness
and
travel it all.

He exchanged his awake routines
for dreams.

He traveled here and there,
where ever
that dusty old road
would take him,
some places made sense,
some were flashes
of total innocence.

He had exchanged
his expectations
for creations.

He could love you on the road,
be with you
but with you
he would never go home.

Rumor has it
it was his fatal flaw.

He had exchanged
success and failure
for
experience,
he avoided many a cliff
many a fall
in having it all.

You won't find him
hitchhiking
panhandling
soliciting or pandering
selling drugs
or
in bed with your mother.

You'll find him in the whispers
you hear
in the rainbow aura
around street lamps
on night time
deserted streets,
the meteor at midnight
the green flash at sunset.

He had exchanged
staying for going
and
he was on his way
with dust devils
blowing
behind him.
 Dec 2014 Afrodita Nestor
Jack
~

Beneath a glowing chrysanthemum moon
I ponder the future intense
Counting each star that my eyes they do see
A’ shine in this nighttime suspense

Drawing on visions alive in my heart
Counting my blessings so true
Outlining shadows that dance on the ground
Forming a thought from a clue

Here on the grass of a neatly trimmed field
The world moves a bit as I stare
Memories found that we not yet have met
Days soon to come we will share

These are the dreams of your amorous poet
Out as the night wind does flow
Promising truth high above all this wisdom
Off in the distance to show

Praying that you shall reflect off this moonbeam
Touched by the light of my love
Sent from the heart of a desperate endeavor
Rains from the night sky above

Loneliness brings with it determination
Fight till I no longer breathe
Clapping my hands hoping magic will happen
Some things I tend to believe

Soon in the year of decisions decided
Until the end of all time
I shan’t let go when I find you are waiting
*Locked in my arms ever mine
Find a Poet Not a poser, not a "it's just a hobby" poet. Find one who mumbles lines as they scramble for a pen at breakfast; who shakes their head randomly when their thoughts aren't rhyming properly;  who has notebooks stashed around the house that you must never touch.
2. Listen Savor the spoken words, for those are harder to express. Keep in mind that they can't be edited and re-written, and be forgiving when a mistake is made.
3. Read The body speaks as loudly as words on a page do. When their eyes are closed or focused on the ceiling and the fingers are tapping out syllables, recognize the unique process. Respect the need for quiet, because if you look closely, you can read the poem on their face before they write it on the page.
4. Write Write your story together. Grab hold of the pen and hang on as you move across the page of life. Sometimes you will dance across, others you will be dragged. You may have to cross out a word, or a line, or a page, but don't give up. Discouragement is a poet's biggest enemy, inarticulateness their biggest fear. So end each day with a semi-colon, because the story will never end the way you think it will, and there must be room for more. There is always room for more, more words, more laughter, more tears, more love,
When you love a poet.
I used to go out
all the time,
until I found
someone
I'd rather
stay in
with.
We are burning
We are burning
Oh god the pain
My kingdom
Your kingdom
No light, just flame
Ashes around us
Cinders within
Embers are burning
And I, with him
We are burning
We are burning
Oh god the flames
We are burning
We are burning
**No love, just pain.
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