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 Mar 2017 Atta
Crimsyy
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 Mar 2017 Atta
Crimsyy
You're all caught up

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Unwanted
New for old replacement

Appear away, the end of today.
 Mar 2017 Atta
Nat Lipstadt
Forest inquires:

How do you decide, choose your design, find its guise,
give it a face, surrender to the poem's own
vanity,
        and choose the poem's alignment?


                                                  an­ answer forms:

this alignment idea,
you think it simple,
everybody understands
what your inquiry means

alignment -  the appropriate relative position

we live in relative position to each other, our poems too, for they are but written synapses of our close captioned interactions, seemingly random, but assuredly not, as we invest in ourselves, seeking the mysterious appropriate answer
                                                                ­                        from the Theory of Poetic Relativity

                                                   ­             i love your question;                              hold it to my nostrils,          
                                             ­             smell the coffee aroma wake up blast inherent;
                                                                ­      
 kiss its robust childlike cheeks for the simple   soulfulness essential arousal;
for you see sir you have found
the appropriate position that relates us, our mindful words;

                                 answer no good, wholly insufficient?
                                        perfect.
                          as i close this quick cooked to perfection laboratory solution, take note

                              
                            ­                        the earth has moved
                                our hearts have beaten a measly thousand times
                                    time and space have appropriated our prior
                                          
relativity

when you return years hence this poem's shape will perforce have moved. for words are weathered flux constant and yet inherently unchanged except for the part of us that changes with every re-reading  

and what was


**right before has left and the center has moved again
Nat,

This is probably just an insane thing of mine, but I cannot stand the center aligned formatted poetry. I want to read the poetry, but why center? I want to know why it is center aligned? If it is a metaphor for how poetry could/should serve as a balancing point, a countervailing force for a point, perhaps I could understand...but so many poems center aligned, I don't know, I am probably missing something.

A right aligned poem? Perhaps I could understand, if the content was asking me to revolt, to revolutionize, to counter the status quo. But a centered poem? What does the alignment mean?

anyway, it has been a long time since I've been around, keep writing, hope you are well.

-forest
 Mar 2017 Atta
Paul Butters
They’ll be rockin’ in Heaven
Down St. Peter’s Gate Way.
Chuck Berry passed over,
But he still can play.

True King of Rock,
He’ll live for evermore.
And he’ll keep duck walking,
Along that golden shore.

His guitar keeps twanging,
Wah wah tlang tang tang.
Ya want a Showman?
Chuck’s still yer man.

He died at ninety.
It was very sad.
But now he’s up there,
I’m sure that God is glad.

He’ll love that Rock N Roll Music,
Chuck’s sense of humour too.
A touch of Devil also,
When he sings the blues.

So all you Saints and Angels,
You better move and hurry,
For they all want to dance with
That amazing Chuck Berry.

Paul Butters
For my greatest musical Hero. With echoes of "Sweet Little Sixteen"......
 Mar 2017 Atta
ajp
missing you
 Mar 2017 Atta
ajp
missing you
is like swimming
underwater.
at first you're
fine, but the
longer you go
without air,
the bigger the
ache and the strain
grows.
pretty soon your
body is begging
for it but you can't
get it.
in my case,
its my soul
that is missing you.
 Mar 2017 Atta
Lost
Suicide Pact
 Mar 2017 Atta
Lost
Falling*

                          That’s the sensation.

                                                     ­             You don’t feel the *pain

                                                          ­                            or hear a slowing heartbeat.

You see
lights,
pretty
little
fairy
lights.

You start to


remember


all of the

things
you
lost.
The
places
­ you
hid
and
how
to


escape.


You
want
it
to
just
                                                          ­ end.
Maybe
you’ll
finally
find
what
was
always
missing.
Maybe
you
won’t.
Maybe
you
will.
You
may
never
ever
know.




You have formed
a suicide pact
                                                            ­                          *for one.
 Mar 2017 Atta
AM
Anjing
 Mar 2017 Atta
AM
she doesn't speak love like any other
and she has a very ***** mouth
never expect her to say sayang
—she won't
what she'll say is anjing
so when she calls you anjing,
it means you're a very lucky guy
it also means she's in love with you
and God forbids you make her cry
 Jan 2017 Atta
hiraeth
Untitled
 Jan 2017 Atta
hiraeth
why wont words come
i have things to say
i know my message

but nothing comes out
im angry and frustrated

i want to express and not feel
empty

but when i try to show what i feel it
refuses
to show it's self.

im alone and unable to share
no one will know no one can see

because my brain wont let me rhyme
my heart wont give me word
my soul doesn't have a rhythm

and when i turn to the comfort and
therapy
of poetry....

try to let it bee also it has been...

i'm empty.

no words
no rhythm

no rhyme
no reason
 Jan 2017 Atta
claire
Cerulean
 Jan 2017 Atta
claire
Calm, broad strokes of blue
Slowly fill the pristine page
Shades of cool color
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