Often poets communicate
via internet voice recordings
sharing dancing lovers videos
as pen pals may venture to do;
no it doesn't mean
we do not exist
people aren't virtual cartoons!
We have feelings emotions we love
the mind makes it all real.

We are real people in different countries interchanging loyalties
we are perhaps more real then couples living together yet disconnected in many ways,
and not in love either
but rather utterly bored.
~~
So don't be cruel saying
I am virtual and you've met
the love of your life already
and want no one else,
but your Zaheera for all eternity
because she's omnipresent real.!

Trying to make her jealous with me
a real poetess!? think again!
Zaheera and me can smell your rat.

She is more a fantasy for years if she even exists
Why the virtual competitiveness
and AnK isn't real?
We are breathing eating sleeping loving trusting sharing
yet not real!?
In your book of tricks ? Hu?

How shall we search for real connections hu?
have you noticed though
the whole planet has gone virtual.
it's become a ritual,!
All people are real living brings
not virtual their lap tops cell phones  c are the virtual conduits,
though so what !?
~~~~~~~~
By Mr and Mrs Andrews
inspired by Karijinbba.7/21

Dear mother
What am I to you?
.....
Am I puppet?
Why hath you imprisoned me by your cobweb?
.....
Why do you loathe me?
Every time I strive to guard you...
You double- cross....
Again... You hath deceive me...
Like bonehead myself must pardon you for your betrayal....

i love the moon
wrapped around my neck
the small crescent moon bouncing happily on my heart
as we hold hands

that same beautiful moon
in which i trace with my fingers
feeling the smooth moonstone
be imprinted with my fingerprints

that same affectionate moon
as it glided on your chest when we gasped for more air
and you held me close to your heart
as the moonlight shined softly from the window

that same wonderstruck moon
we would fight under
tears that reflected the moonstone
always streaming down my face

that same gleaming moon
that you would wipe my tears
with the hands i had felt for years
and all i could do was look up and dream of

that same distant moon
where i had found out about your disloyalty
and i felt myself slipping into vast space
putting myself in front of asteroids just to feel something

that same sickening moon
taunting me with the way it just
stays up there, coming out only at night
only to observe and listen for chaos that reigns after dark

that same wicked moon
that was suffocating me in my sleep
when i would lie next to your empty shell
gasping for air as i wipe my moonstone tears

that same dreadful moon
as it watched me deteriorate in your arms
burning holes into my chest
dwindling my soul until it left me hollow

i... used to love the moon
when i knew that it was lovingly
wrapped around my neck by you
and you would feel the moonstone with your lips

i used to love the moon
until the last star died
and i ripped it off from my neck
and drove myself into a black hole

that same cynical moon
that you proclaimed your love to me too,
was the same ******* moon
that my entire being was shattered by you

...

i ******* hate the moon.