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 May 2017 Stan Patty
M Sanchez
You do not get to hurt my feelings and call it "art"
I will not gift you in that way
You own all the credit but I refuse to give you fame
This is not a poem
If it were it'd be titled with your name
Details about how the clouds couldn't compete with me but instead,
I am feeling that feeling with no name
And that's why
This is not a poem
As I'm lying on this bed
I will sign it and hide it within my drawer labeled 12 AMs
Because you are not an artist
They create beauty from their own pain
But you have used mine
You will never know what it said
I still love you
But I must remind you,

that this is not a poem.
Yes, you can do it
Step up and give yourself a chance
It is all up to you
Just face the big dance
Put your heart into everything
Be the one to inspire
Never give up on hope
Continue to reach even higher
 May 2017 Stan Patty
Aeerdna
Unable to sleep
Though my eyes are so tired
From having to see all the pain
I pour in the mirror
Day by day.

(They've never felt better than the last time when your face was reflected in their blue shade).

I switch from side to side
In this bed where your absence
Makes me feel like I am in the middle of a snowstorm
While I'm trying to run from all those monsters
I once told you about.
The ones your voice would chase away at night
Just by calling and saying that everything is all right.

And

I miss the way your arms around me made me feel warm
On that Friday night
When the worst monster was the train taking me away from your side.

And I miss you.

But that's something I am not suppose to say.
Not now.
Not now that the Universe has decided
To place our hearts at a safe distance one from the other.

And under these layers of skin and flesh
I can feel my soul turning into a pile of dust
wearing the scent of your embrace.

After all,
I guess,
No distance is long enough
For a heart filled with longing.
and pain.
 May 2017 Stan Patty
Akira Chinen
Death will not be the end of me
and my love for you will not decompose
with the flesh that covers my bones
nor will it end as my remains turn to ash and dust
and return to dance silently on the wind
Death cannot claim the fires from
my dead still heart that forged
the secret colors that are my love for you
nor can it take the flames
you used to write your poetry in my soul
No
Death will not be the end of me
for the eternity in your eyes
pulled me out of the reach of deaths grasp
the moment I fell for you
 May 2017 Stan Patty
ryn
Writers, We
 May 2017 Stan Patty
ryn
Spin a web...
a little tale...
with the
unwavering voice that
tells of limitless grandeur.

Weave the
finest threads of imagination,
laced with infinite magic...
into a spectacle...
of spellbinding tapestry.

Cast your palette,
unto canvas...
brush with the strokes of
your heart's shackled candour.

String your words
into phrases,
into sentences
that turn into beguiling jewels
that we...
only we...

see as poetry.
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