Take note the proper
Posture of denial,
Where all things end in laughter,
And I get the joke.

Because we are not where
We once were and can break
A mold,
When a poet goes into action
And becomes his words the
World will not allow it.
The audacity of the poetic
Gesture turning into a romantic
Reality,

******* world,
I break the mold of your mud,
Fake your way out of this;
I win because you tried to stop me.
Swallow the bitter pill,
Rabbit holes go only so deep,
My poem is an eternal univetse
My life in a blink has become a stanza
Lasting longer than the world and
Its game of nothing.

Death may come,
But i live on in defiance,
I never failed myself
And my actions became a poem,
******* world,
Im living a poetic gesture
And raise my *******
On victory.

We come
We go
The pain we know
Of leaving the familiar
Faces
Places
Where traces of past life intention
Let us let go of false possession

Time is short
Do not resort to staying
For the slaying of our presence
Brings forth a new essence
Of progression
From past strife regression

I wish so hard I could split like knife
My body into miles of fragments
To serve the many that I love
Like a dole of doves
Raining peace from above
Now that is a future I see fitting
And so it will come

For when I am gone I will be but energy
The air you breath will cause our synergy
Where my hands fail now
They will touch your memory
And we do not forget

So let go
If this is true
Of what is not yours to take
For the universe will discover the way
Just as long as you surrender
And remember to say
I love you

ೋღ❤ღೋೋღ❤ღೋ

Walking down a wooded path
tall flowing trees all around,
I came upon the river’s edge
and sat down on the ground.

Sitting at the edge of the river
I stare at its ongoing flow,
I start to give it all my pain
a release with each little throw.

My hardest pain is fear
that I’ve had from so long ago,
of never feeling good enough
that’s dulled my inner glow.

It eats at me like a cancer
each and every day,
the fear of never being good enough
and again being thrown away.

Years of disappointment and abuse
only being property, nothing to love,
but always trying to make things right
so everyone else could rise above.

I throw this fear out into the river
sit back and watch it pass slowly by,
I wrap my arms around myself
feel the release, let myself cry.

I throw out all the other pains
betrayal, heartache, loneliness and more,
I watch them drift gently way
these last tears will be left on this river shore.

Noticing as each and every pain
slowly floats down the river away,
I observe at a distance
as they fade into the suns sparkling rays.

Walking down a wooded path
tall flowing trees all around,
I came upon the river’s edge
and was surprised at what I found.

And ever onward shall we strive
and from the circle peace derive.
The sea in robes of mossy green
and blues the eye has never seen...
In grays that mock the stormy sky
and depths that hold the tears gone by....

A sweet release we give our heart
from pain of past that tore apart,
relief that only one can find
when hearts we let, become unconfined,
to leave behind those stormy skies
letting self-love baptize…

A tide of tears resides within
and waits to overflow.
i greet with a smiling face
so others will not know.

How feeble is this masquerade.
Transparent are the games.
Emotions should be given room
without the chides and blames.

The time will come to open up
and let the dam release...
my will, the pressure stop.
my soul will be at peace.

Weep when grief prescribes.
Laugh for humor's sake.
Love with everything you have
and forgive, all your mistakes.

ೋღ❤ღೋೋღ❤ღೋ

Oh no you don't, website.

I want no part of this selection process.

Please remove this.

The smoky spasms
of specters passing
fill my teary blurred
vision;

Forced phantasms
of former friends
and family
which I remember
quite fondly,

The young girl
across the street
who was missing
a few teeth,

The old lady
and old man
who brought me up,
helping when they could,

The elderly grocer
of Kregor’s store
where I purchased
penny tootsie rolls,
and three cent
laughy taffy

The long dead dogs,
the trees,
the memories
of a younger me
living dangerously
hanging upside down
thick branches,

these spirits haunt me
partially paining
but mostly reminding me
of the good times.

They come in
shifting tides
of low to high
and back again.

Wavering
wavelengths
of unpredictable
measures,
the ultimate
uncertainty
principal.

Like sound
which
moves from
one pitch
to the next
it is so complex.

Like Schrodinger’s cat
there one day
and the next
all that is left
is ****
and a dead feline.

In time
you may realize
these chemical lies,
though sweet
cannot compete
with your biology,

But mostly
you will devour me
and spit me out
savagely,
calling me
the messenger
of things
you do not want to hear
as you bury me
in heartbreaking isolation
and obscurity.