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 Mar 2015
ShamusDeyo
Some how I can't see the words,
I can't hear the rhythm.
The meters got no beat to feel,*
And the Rhyme I cannot deal
Constantly the consonants
Corrupt the Poems appeal
Like feral Syllables Ascant of any
Meaning it just can't be real
In pica print Parklane Font
The printing does leave for Want.....JMF 3/9/2015
 Mar 2015
A Watoot
So you tell us we do not amount to anything,
and scream in our brains that we are nothing.
But before you speak, have you seen,
The efforts we have been exerting.

Aida, before you tell us anything,
Please know what you are saying.
Have you seen the efforts we made outside these walls,
and all the things we've been through, we won't fall.

Aida, please listen, I know you're busy,
If you dig deeper, you'll smell something fishy.
We did this because you provoked us all
In order to accomplish, we must throw the ball.

Aida, do you know the story of our humble beginnings?
If not, you don't have the right to treat us like you're the one who's winning.
You are not one of us, Aida.
You will never be like us.
People will see all your flaws.  They will never really focus on what you do right.  It's always forgotten.  It will always be.
When you lose, they will never care about you.
And when you win, they share your glory.
 Mar 2015
Porsche Newell
Moved to allpoetry.com
Just a quick lunch break release. .
 Mar 2015
A Watoot
She's beautiful
She's cunning
She's bubbly.
She's like a Victorian figurine in the glass shelf of menagerie.
She works her way up
by telling the right words
at the right time.
She's impossibly perfect in every way.
I see her.
I can see her.
I'm not envious.

Because I saw her lie and steal in the presence of her perfection.
This is for the person who I should always keep my eyes on.  
She has been lying and stealing since day one.
 Mar 2015
ShamusDeyo
When I was a boy I would ride my bike
Down through the Emerald Hillsides
Rich with Oaken Hard wood trees
To Horse Shoe Bend I'd ride

And catch the old Stage coach road
Through the Hollow, following the Creek
To a famous Brook Trout Fishing Site
But always I would find, Fish wasn't on my mind

I'd cut down through Farmers Pasture
To the Path up the Hillside, winding through
A Verdant View of Nettles, Brush and Wild Strawberries
I'd break free of this to a limestone bluff with 13 Water Caves

In a crack in the Wall of the Bluff I found
Ancient Snail Fossil as big as my own Hand
A Treasure of The Land, the crack led to the top
And the Island in the Sky, A Column of Stone*

Bridged by a branch and Broken Rocks
Standing Alone was an Island of Stone
With Grass and a single Cedar Tree
It Broke through the tree tops

A pristine view of Azure Blue, white clouds
A fresh Spring fed And winding Creek bed With
A Valley and rows of hills in Emerald tree Shroud
And circling the updrafts Was a Pair of Arctic Hawks

By laying Still in Practiced skill The hawk would circle Down
A wonder at what this thing he saw he would swoop down
In so close I could have touched him , with a 3 Foot Wing Span
When he flew by I would catch his eye and we made a connection

Some would say that this is a dream, but its true I declare to you
From the burden of my childhood I felt safe above trees in the Air
With my life From all the Ugly Bullying, this was my Sanctuary
*As just a boy I realised, in the woods and the Forest I was Free
The fossil is sitting on my fire place mantle with me from that day
This is one of the nicest memories of my childhood Nature, from rock Collecting to Jewel ****... wild Catnip Tea with fresh chamomile Nature was my Savior, We did a lot of Camping and fishing out here  and when I came alone i would write poems as the soft wind brushed my face...The Indians would say it is my Guide and I fly with the Hawk Spirit..... "water cave is actually dry but the tops of the bluffs were once the banks of a raging torrent of a river and the
Force of the water Carved the Hollow pocks and arched caves
 Mar 2015
ShamusDeyo
Everytime I hear No, its always .......MY FAULT
As the Brain drags me down this train of illogic
Anxiety Loops in unending Circles Spun to the Tragic
What can go wrong, then to feel like.......
Life has ***** me, And why is it always my Fault

The FIST FLEW out of Nowhere, Sucker punched*
Slow motion falling as a..........
Childs head bounces off the ground
Awaking to throbbing Pain,
My Pants around my Knees,
And why is it always my Fault..

For those who know what I mean
Others can't know what we've seen
Even if Its both Bad and Yucky
*Childhood is for the lucky..........JMF  9/28/14
I did a revision of an earlier Piece...

I realized I never had a childhood
 Mar 2015
A Watoot
A kiss that ***** the life source out of me.
That kiss on the staircase.   I'll never forget that.
 Mar 2015
A Watoot
His lips traces her every line
Their breaths are all they hear
She raises a glass of wine
He sees a glass so clear

Creased sheets of the mattress
in the hot summer of May
A moment of their unrest
As the sun sets by the bay

Their breaths grew quicker
As they reached the dawn of the night
Their muscles clenched tighter
A release of spring- without a fight
I wrote this in a boring afternoon class.  My first attempt in sensuality.
 Mar 2015
Jack
.
The thought of you
Sends me aimlessly floating
Across rainbow skies
Enchanting my senses

Fragrant siftings of desire
Passion drenched dreams
Engulf my consciousness
Lay me to mesmeric quiverings

On clouds of quilted inspiration
Penning my entranced mind
In odic poetic phrases
Coined by a surrendering heart

Completely lost in the moment
Captured by perfect beauty
Immersed in the delirium
Of the thought of you
 Feb 2015
Anirishpoet
In an Irish Pub was
A soft spoken Man
Walked up to the bar
And Ordered a Black and Tan
The Barkeepcame back at a Swagger
With a bottle of Guinness and a Harp Lager
In a pint mug he mixed the foamy Brew
Raising the pint he asked what should I drink to
The barkeep said, Well you can.....
Drink to Health, Drink to wealth, Drink to the village Baker
Drink to Anything, But never Drink to the undertaker--- Erin4Ever
I believe I feel a T'irst commin' on lol
 Feb 2015
Anirishpoet
The Luck of the Irish isn't found in a stone
It isn't found in a Field of clover
Its not found in the Irish Sweepstake even
That is, not unless you're the one that wins
Its found in the twinkle of the eye , you know it
And we're all borm with the tongues of a poet.....Erin4Ever
 Feb 2015
Alessander
I don’t get feminism.
The term, that is.
When they ask, "Are you a feminist?"
I reply, “Sure.”
They nod in bobble-head approval.
“I’m also a childist and animalist”
A confounded grimace glazes over
“Huh?”
“Of course. Aren’t YOU a childist?
Aren’t YOU an animalist?”

“Uh. What do you mean?”

“Well, don’t you believe that children
and animals should be treated with love?”

“Well, naturally.”

“Well. There you go. You’re a childist
And animalist.”

"Besides,  you would extend this love
To all sentient beings, I’m assuming?”

“Ummm. Yes...”

“Well, then, you’re a masculinist too,
Just like me!”

This is about the time their cell buzzes
Or their double soy frap is ready

They whisk away

“Oh, I’m also a worldist!” I belt out

Before they exit

As I resume reading
Remaining clever, and

Alone.
 Feb 2015
ShamusDeyo
TheBack Beat of the Bass, In a Bourbon infused bar
Smooth to the bend of , The blues note Guitar
Saxman whail's to the, Smoky Slow blues Singer
And Drummer riffs off , A High Hat Brush Stinger
The Piano Man lays down, A Slow soft tune
As the Vocals Stir the mix, In a Soft **** Croon
People dance so close, It Shuts out the World
Lost in Love, Lust, & Bourban.....
Bartender sets up another Round
As the Crowd of the room, Soaks up the Sound.....
Toker's Blowin'  Smoke, Hid in the hall by the Johns
The Bars Mood Sways...As the music Carries on
A Patron at the Bar, Orders up another beer
And the Dancers Float, Across the Dance Floor
The Glow of Neon Spills, Colored Red Lights....
A Soft **** Setting, For a Memorable Night
The Guests all begged and, Pleaded for an Encore
So the band fired up... Just one more
All on A Saturday night.....JMF 1/31/15
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