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the sun's shining beams
did burnish the bushland stream
in a glossy gleam
 Nov 2014 mark john junor
Izzy
Silence kills
because the boy locked in his room
lets his thoughts run lose and get the better of him every night but he suffers in silence
so no one has to carry the burden he thinks of himself as.
 Nov 2014 mark john junor
Izzy
Here's to the one who will never know my true feelings
He’s saved me from myself
He can tell my story better than I can tell it myself
He knows the secrets lurking behind my smile
He’s the one who loved me when I couldn't love myself
He put me back together when I fell to pieces
He cared when no one else did
Never judging me
I was able to trust him
But my feelings will remain buried
Forever...
I’m sorry I couldn't tell you, I was scared.
So here's to the one who will never know.
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.
 Nov 2014 mark john junor
Creep
Don't go around hugging
All my friends
Get them to
Stare at you with wide,
Innocent eyes
As you sashay away
Leaving them awestruck,
Then turn around innocently
To see them fight
And be confused.

Cause if your gonna turn all my friends against each other,
Ruin everything I live for,
Then ***** gonna go down.
*cracks knuckles menacingly* im comin for ya, *****. Ur hurting all my friends, one by one. How bout i hurt u, andrea?
Little moist drops of heaven
       Trickling down my throat
    The heavenly burn,
                   delicious
Synonymous with an Angel's wings
               fluttering in my esophagus
     Liquid lightning, striking
          Almost blasphemous
 A devilish game of Russian Roulette
              With four shot glasses,
   Three rogues and one gent
Emotions getting looser
    Clothing getting tighter
           The taste becoming
     Sweeter
          Liquefied demon tears
Playing a wicked game
            with my insides
    Putting a beautiful curse on my mind
             Melted Whiskey Raindrops
     Sending shivers down my spine
           This hellish war of love, hate and
                    Intoxication
   Has never felt so
                  *Divine
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