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Oct 2019 · 56
Untitled
TheConcretePoet Oct 2019
when our
  
  marriage

ended with

    2 children

when we

    ourselves were

just children?

    my life

    also

ended.
TheConcretePoet Oct 2019
why does he
even bother
leaving in
this place,
   his poetry?

minimal to
  non existent
is the
   appreciation
from the
  hes and
the shes.

artistically
   arranged words
do not stir
  the souls of
these folks
      indeed.

but alas,
   i will
continue to
leave you all
    my heart's
     key...

    leave you all
my scars
   and wounds
       that have
never healed.

i have never
   been one to
keep my
     feelings nor
  my heart
concealed.

ignoring my
  gift that i
    share with
you all
        for free...

i won't lie,
    it hurts
sometimes like
      i have been
stung by
  42 bees.

rather....
    41 because
one friend
  reads and
     appreciates
  my
free poetry,
         religiously.

and we all
    know...

who is she.
Oct 2019 · 304
resembling the moon
TheConcretePoet Oct 2019
privy
to nothing,
inherently
oblivious-
naked,
no clothing.
empty
streets,
eyes of
the night
don't see.
mana
weeps from
the
tortured sky,
its power
creates
a
zoo like
primal cry.
obstacles
animate
and
steal
your breath,
space
confined...
so close
to
death.
as each
cloud falls
it drags
down
the stars,
the moon
and its
craters...
they
mimic
your
scars.
Oct 2019 · 41
Untitled
TheConcretePoet Oct 2019
Imprisoned by reluctance,
resistance
and
relevance.

Imprisoned by
the
relevance
to
reluctantly
resist.

Imprisoned by
a
purely
purposeful
passion.

Imprisoned by
a
passion
with
pure
purpose.

Imprisoned
I should
keep
locked away
love's
lust.

Imprisoned
lust
loves
being
locked away
with
you.

Imprison me
my love
without
resistance
to your
passion
so pure.
Oct 2019 · 278
Untitled
TheConcretePoet Oct 2019
I
  
   left

     my

honey

         on

her lips.

          It

    left

                her

all

         abuzz.

     She

          was anxious

    for

                the

sting.
Oct 2019 · 98
Handle with care
TheConcretePoet Oct 2019
I feel so damaged.

When will people stop looking for me ,

only when they want something.

I don't need a fragile sticker or tape wrapped around me.....

I'm already broken.

Shake the box and you'll see.
Oct 2019 · 89
Beware
TheConcretePoet Oct 2019
Life   ~~~~~^~  
                  °
                 °
                  °
           o w °
          r    n
           d  s

               i
                n
                s
               i
                 d
                 e

     circumstances
Beware of the shark
Oct 2019 · 88
Untitled
TheConcretePoet Oct 2019
Waiting
       to
           die

feels
           a lot

      like

           death.

   I drive

       yesterday

with my wife
      to a distant
location a few
        hours away

       and,
all it was

    was,

        anxiety

    for me.

        ******* drivers ,
       one after
    the other.

      My wife and I

    get to the point

       where we
realize that

    I simply

     dislike people-
  
      most people,
because of their
  selfishness and
the
ME ME ME
I I I I I I I,
      I come first
  way of these people.

    I have
       no fun
in life
     any more
       with these
people.

   I literally hate
     crowds because
I  dislike
     and
distrust
      people.

   I breathe in
anxiety
      and I exhale
anxiety.

     This life *****!!

   These people turn
me into,
      someone that
I don't like.

      And I am a man.
I never blame
     anyone for my
       troubles
          but;

a mere 5 minutes
  out in that world
    with those
ME ME ME ME
I I I I I folks?

   They turn my
blue skies BLACK!

  Some folks live life.
     I live this life
waiting to die just to get away
       from all of
the selfishness
          and
           anxiety.

   The rounds
that I keep
    going back
into the ring for?

   Those aren't
       for me
any longer.

    I have lived
what life that
   I wanted to.

  But, for as
long as He
    deems it
     necessary
for me to
   step into
that ring....

   I will honor
His wishes.
And believe it or not, there is nothing wrong with me.
It's the world that's wrong, not I.
I'm just ahead of the curve.
Oct 2019 · 76
Untitled
TheConcretePoet Oct 2019
I
  am
not
          living,

           I
   am
just
      
            waiting

         to die.


One day,

     I

"will be the poem".

     and on that day,

      I won't be here any longer
       and I will once again live.
    
      right now, I am not living.

I'm just
      waiting to die.
Oct 2019 · 79
Flood from a journal
TheConcretePoet Oct 2019
My parchment
  is the sponge
for all of my thoughts,
good or bad.

If I were to wring it out?

My thoughts would flood
this universe.

Every day I drown inside
every page of my
journal.

No need to save me from me.
Oct 2019 · 130
Drowns
TheConcretePoet Oct 2019
Life   ~~~~~^~  
                  °
                 °
                  °
           o w °
          r    n
           d  s

               i
                n
                s
               i
                 d
                 e

     circumstances
Beware of the shark
Oct 2019 · 78
Untitled
TheConcretePoet Oct 2019
Try
    
           and keep

     your
          feet

                 from
   moving

             down

         any

                 dead
end

    street,

           mistakes

               on those

   dead ends

       are
           not

               ones to

         repeat
Oct 2019 · 90
Ode to the giving leaf
TheConcretePoet Oct 2019
Autumn
   shows us
     just how
stunningly
        beautiful
death
.   ..   can
        .. .. .be

   and

             how

beautiful

  .. . it is
               to

      ... .let

t
h
i
n
g
s

   ... . ..go.

    each

f
  a
     l
       l
         e
            n

    leaf..
        a rustic

memory

           so giving
   and.. .. .

     so artistically

lived...

     leafs are brave
and

        unselfish.

    can a leaf,

    yes
      a leaf...

be a hero?

    their reddish

****** hue

     in their end

        demands

respect.

      their life

          is all,

all

     about

        giving.

i salute

     the
heroic
         leafs

     and for

       giving me

o
n
e

    of my

   reasons

        for living.
Oct 2019 · 10.5k
Untitled
TheConcretePoet Oct 2019
for

    once,

   i would

love

      to be

         the poem

and

     not

         the poet
Oct 2019 · 76
Untitled
TheConcretePoet Oct 2019
If,

     I am water ?

  Your stone,

        offers no impediment.

Go ahead,
     and
heave it hard,

      you've got nothing!
Oct 2019 · 207
We Poets
TheConcretePoet Oct 2019
We poets live and breath words like air.
We inhale the beauty (muses) of what our eyes may see.
We exhale our expression, our interpretation.
We intoxicate our audience with words.
Words that create a vision, only unique to you, the reader.
Oct 2019 · 145
2 for 1
TheConcretePoet Oct 2019
"Inspired by a flicker"

An open empty canvas,
it sits by the candlelight,
adjacent to a bottle.

Spirits provoke an outpouring,
canvas becomes cluttered,
the ambiance provides emotion.

Verse after verse,
till the bottle runs dry,
your thirst now quenched.

A puddle of wax ,
a canvas full of soul,
is all that is left ...sitting in the dark.

===============



The leaves hung like rusted steel

It was more than just an Autumnal feel

These were moments for me to heal

This was when life got in my face and was real

Recognition of beauty which is inevitably dieing

Even those rusted steel leaves close to death were hanging on....
and still trying
Oct 2019 · 72
Waves of life
TheConcretePoet Oct 2019
The waves of life
come rushing in
against a human shore line.
Destined to caress
our feet
our hearts
our lives.
Oct 2019 · 86
Not a word
TheConcretePoet Oct 2019
In a room of strangers, I sit.

A clock on the wall catches my interest.

The second hand , my eyes obsession.

12 to 6 , 6 to 12..... around it goes.

The minutes easily reach 10.

The room is still full of strangers.
TheConcretePoet Oct 2019
my death is

  profusely bleeding poetry.

    miss me?

cause'

    no tourniquet
will ever stop
        flowing poetry.
Oct 2019 · 60
Untitled
TheConcretePoet Oct 2019
dreams
    do
   speak

but

ink
pens
scream


  last evening's images while asleep

    woke me up at a quarter to four

   captive, this dream was only for me

   i fell back asleep ... my subconscious yearned for more

ink to paper, this dream one day i might,

   share the sugary sweetness of this
  dream's
delicious delight
Oct 2019 · 72
Untitled
TheConcretePoet Oct 2019
When the dawn cries

   the blues

      the yellows

         the reds

             the oranges all sleep

Grey has a very demanding day in front of it

     each cloud a water color masterpiece of black and white

         the palette omits purple intentionally
    
             this day of grey has left me black and blue enough

crisp and cold green leaves are no more

         to the brown earth they have fallen

there is a chill in the air

            ....winter draws near.
TheConcretePoet Oct 2019
weightlessly
the squirrel
frolics,
aping one
luft balloon
of 99.
a mighty oak
it climbs,
coming to rest
in the
lush canopy
along with
the balloon.
deflated,
the balloon
falls to the ground
while
the squirrel
looks down
at the
deflated balloon,
snickers,
and
continues
its frolicking
from tree top
to tree top.
Oct 2019 · 97
Love's whiskey juice
TheConcretePoet Oct 2019
Vulnerable,
   prone

... naked;

    there you were.

      My heart
racing,
         my lips
dripping
       of drool
and
         my mind
    Pre-
      climaxing
   as my hips
buck.

     Tasting you
now
        overwhelms
              every
   thought that
I am capable
             of thinking.

Your ******
     calls my lips
        to have my
mouth and
            my tongue
take your
      ****** as my
         prisoner.

  Together,
we ride the
        waves of
            ******
and ****
     one another down like
        a double shot
           of whiskey.

You're drunk...
    I am drunk
       on our
whiskey juice
          of love.
Oct 2019 · 172
Few hearts are welcomed
TheConcretePoet Oct 2019
Lying there, dying of cancer ...
I will forbid most from coming to gawk at me on death's bed

When I was full of life....you should have come to see me instead

I will not allow part time anybodys to try and fill years of guilt in moments so they may feel redeemed

While I was alive and well, you never called or came to see me

Now knocking on death's door, you want to act like you will miss me?

On my way out, I want to feel your regret

My hospice room will be pretty well empty while I lie on death's bed

Save your fake pity and crocodile tears

I will not allow you to now fill my last moments with lost years

Oh well...I'll be dead and
nothing for you will really change

Nothing in your life will you have to rearrange

By the way did he leave me something, anything I get?

Nope....he didn't leave you ****!
Oct 2019 · 103
death before dying
TheConcretePoet Oct 2019
if you
believe
in
death

then,

why not
live?
Oct 2019 · 93
Part time love
TheConcretePoet Oct 2019
Sure,
    you can
go ahead
         and
      love me

         Only;

Loving you
      back,
   is not something
          that I can
        promise
thee

    What I am is;

I am an
    eastern coast
tree

   I think that
you know what,
    that
         makes me

        To you
    my time given
was
         for  free
  much like
    a wind's breeze

But realize;

    I am
nothing more
       than an
east coast
            winter's
     dead tree

I will only
    ever,
        love you
  partly
TheConcretePoet Oct 2019
During the
winter,
the ceramic tile
floor reminded
me of you

During the early
spring,
the dead trees
reminded
me of you

During the summer,
the suffocating
heat reminded
me of you

During the
fall,
its
-warm
-full of life
-breathable
traits,
did not remind
me of you

Hence,
why we're
           through

The completion
of me,
    could never
happen with
        you
Oct 2019 · 87
Healing
TheConcretePoet Oct 2019
Muscles
   in our body
must rip
      must tear,
      must bleed
and suffer
        to become stronger.

And I think .......
  
       life,
        makes it the same
for our
hearts.

     Broken hearts
        do
mend.
Oct 2019 · 87
Emotion's devotion
TheConcretePoet Oct 2019
Wanting is an emotion.

    What it is,

is,

       only one step preceding devotion.
Oct 2019 · 534
Oh rose of blue
TheConcretePoet Oct 2019
Oh rose of blue,

I've only seen but one, your hue.

You delicately weep the morning dew,

from whence a seed your uniqueness grew,

as did my fascination for you, this much is true.

Oh rose of blue you stand with few,

your petals bathe in tomorrow's sun new,

at night the moon smiles and bays back at you.

Oh rose of blue,

my poem for you has been long overdue.
Oct 2019 · 61
Prove it
TheConcretePoet Oct 2019
L
O
V
E

Is

Not just
   something
         you say

L
O
V
E

Is

Something
      that you
            do
*** is not love
Love is not ***

Love is a conglomerate of actions that takes time to prove
Oct 2019 · 66
mistress Autumn
TheConcretePoet Oct 2019
cinnamon
apple pie
pumpkin spice
burning wood
and love
are the essences
carried within
every
Autumn's wind.

don't be shy
to,
dig in.

your **** hues,
they leave me
short of
breath

you are
thee one that
I will never
forget
Oct 2019 · 64
Untitled
TheConcretePoet Oct 2019
Silence is

    Also communication
Oct 2019 · 47
White creamy foam
TheConcretePoet Oct 2019
As one wave crashes up against another

       it reminds me of what takes place between two very passionate lovers

         out of breath after colliding underneath the waves... the covers.
Oct 2019 · 63
Untitled
TheConcretePoet Oct 2019
Fingers

     fingered

        fine

          finality
Oct 2019 · 33
Untitled
TheConcretePoet Oct 2019
Lying naked next to her in the dark was a mistake

Violently our bodies became one without a second to waste

She was a perfect storm that night

Fevered fornication until
the next day's light

In and out we loved with great emphatic haste

Memories we both will
load to easily *******
Oct 2019 · 101
Untitled
TheConcretePoet Oct 2019
Down by the refrigerated
box cars in the old train yard, under the quiet overpass on a cold and dreary October's night

A hobo and his stray dog Max, warmed my chilled bones by showing me with their cuddled friendship what love really means

The world may have abandoned them but, they had each other and that was all that mattered

The hobo's tattered coat draped fully over Max and partly himself, to cover themselves from the night's frost

My eyes leaked for them but they warmed my heart

Unknowingly to them, they were a genuine inspiration
Oct 2019 · 63
Red rose memory
TheConcretePoet Oct 2019
Against the midnight sky the red rose dripped
their passion's
****** in panting breath.

A bouquet of love
with raw and rare emotions clinging to the humid air.

A droplet of moonlight seemed to caress her lips that I have longed to engage.

Long and hard I kissed her again, the midnight sky's red rose.

Her petals could make the softest of velvet jealous.

Her essence,
I never want to wash away from memory.
Oct 2019 · 4.7k
Unspoken words
TheConcretePoet Oct 2019
Through the forest of trees from your lips

   I can read your unspoken words.

       As each leaf falls

   the view becomes much more clear.

       Words that once reverberated through the forest

   seem as lifeless as the fallen leaves at my feet.

        I await a rush of fresh air

    to stir and animate the dead silence around me.
Oct 2019 · 72
Untitled
TheConcretePoet Oct 2019
I'm often not sure whether

     ....the trees are waving

..hello

          - or goodbye.
Oct 2019 · 90
Why he writes
TheConcretePoet Oct 2019
I could write,
listen and read poetry,
all day and evening long.
Breaking down its core,
the meaning inside the poem,
by its author
is now,
one of my favorite things to do...
one of the things I look most forward to....
in
this life...
that is filled with mystery
and unknowns.
Is it because I enjoy distancing myself
from this world in which we live?
That's possible....----
indeed it could be,
quite possible.
Or is just because I have this insatiable affinity
for works of art whether it be in written form,
painted form,
nature form or ****** form?
I suggest ---
to myself of course,
that it may be ....
a little bit -------------
of both.
Every day I need to FEEL a poem.
Live in that poem,
whether written by me....
or another author.
Entertaining my own mind.
My mind that is forever a playground.
It's nice to get away.
Oct 2019 · 93
His long illness
TheConcretePoet Oct 2019
Daybreak until nightfall,
she sat by her husband at the hospital
          while chemotherapy dripped
through the catheter into his heart.
          She drank coffee and read
magazines.
She paced while he worked
          on his poems.
  She rubbed his back
and read aloud. Overcome with dread,
          they wept and affirmed
that he would beat this, witlessly,
          over and over again.
When it snowed one morning.....
....
.. he gazed
          at the darkness blurred
with flakes. They pushed the IV pump
          which he called Igor
slowly past the nurses’ pods, as far
          as the outside door
so that he could smell......
          yes smell the snowy air.
TheConcretePoet Oct 2019
The bond.
The tightness.
I touch the number one.
The unforgetting.
The initial clumsiness.
I touch the number 3
The you.
The me.
The small talk of weather,
what makes me a man,
and you a Godess.
I touch the number five.
The dripping euphoria of playful intimate chatter.
The moment I saw those curvy hips swaying to song I hold dear.
The secured hours together I only deliciously imagined your ******* captive by my hands, my mouth wantingly, lustfully agape for your hardened *******.
The days I seduced ALL of you , your lips quivering... climatically speechless....
I touch the number one.

And ohhh...

That look in your eyes.
The look of those eyes giving in to passion, falling off to every angle, back of the head , catatonic.
The moment you realize this feels a lot like paradise and your world seems a bit like a perfectly fitting glove...., a bit in your face.......you breathe deep and know the hands that now sculpt and massage every curve of your aching wanting body wish to make you quiver till the first of never.
I touch the number one.
The chaos is lived within a ******.
The ****** you and I and the nosy neighbors for that matter, will not soon forget.
I touch the number one again and again and again.
The neighbors open their windows further...
Oct 2019 · 171
Untitled
TheConcretePoet Oct 2019
Love

   does not

      always

          follow

     the

         instructions...



Because

      love

                     is

          always

                u
                n
                d
                e
                r


c o n s t r u c t i o n
Oct 2019 · 48
Untitled
TheConcretePoet Oct 2019
I may not have ever been your first choice but
let me tell ya,
I would be honored and intensely love....
to be
your last choice
in this 24 hour cycle of days that we call life.
TheConcretePoet Oct 2019
The climactic colors of Fall will always leave me in awe.

A fresh cool crisp breeze readying me for the approaching Winter freeze.

I wave goodbye to Summer's unclean feeling and sweat, with absolutely not a shred of hesitation nor regret.

Bring me trick or treaters, pumpkins and scarecrows in the field, bring a welcome pause of work for my aging body to heal.

My eyes feed my soul as I gasp at Autumn's beauty and power, whilst I patiently wait for a new beginning and Spring's commitment to bringing April showers.

...we are all God's lovely and intricate perennial flowers.
Oct 2019 · 98
Cancer....hmmmfph cancer
TheConcretePoet Oct 2019
You waltzed into my life without caring whom you might ******* and destroy, or how many.

You rudely and violently attacked a man that did not deserve a fight with you, but then again not many do.

You took from me the only man I ever in 'my life' looked up to for still my many unanswered questions about life.

The one man that was my beacon whom guided me through every storm .....until the rain and howling winds eventually had passed me by.

HATE.

Hate is a very strong word therefore I very seldom use the word.
But cancer, know this, I HATE YOU!
You have devastated my life once already in a way that has put me into a place that there is no coming back from.

Alas, however,
.... I refuse to allow you to destroy whatever life I may have left!

My life that I once knew is certainly in ruins after I saw how you treated and violated one of the most lovable men that has graced this Earth.

It may be dark at times where I reside now and perhaps forever more,  
but I will not allow you to keep my eyes from absorbing the rich sunlight that will grant this flower the nutrients needed to continue to grow.

You brought me to my knees in one fell swoop.
But I will rise once again I hope one day soon.

One day soon I will stand tall like a redwood just so that I can eventually look down upon you.

Look down upon you and feel like I beat you,
not only for me but,
... for my Dad that you murdered in front of my eyes without care.
Every day, and I mean every day I miss you so much Dad.
Oct 2019 · 741
A poet's heart
TheConcretePoet Oct 2019
I tossed our pictures into the fire....

the symbolism of it all,
almost knocked me from my feet.
Oct 2019 · 64
Untitled
TheConcretePoet Oct 2019
I would give her
my life for
just one kiss...

and yet

sadly,

I am still here.
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