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You Don't Have To Think To Write A Nice Poem

why think? poetry does not demand
thinking

it demands feelings, your feelings,
and you have lots of them,
these feelings
of loss, of joy, of sorrow, of bliss,
of sadness, and happiness,

of longings, and regrets
of losing and gaining,

all these, do they require
so much thinking
and evaluating? no, they are there
with you, always waiting to be written
and sometimes
mind you, just put your hand
on the keys
and they start writing about

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Ambrose Bierce

A 'Scion Of Nobility

Come, sisters, weep!-our Baron dear,
Alas! has run away.
If always we had kept him here
He had not gone astray.

Painter and grainer it were vain
To say he was, before;
And if he were, yet ne'er again
He'll darken here a door.

We mourn each matrimonial plan
Even tradesmen join the cry:
He was so promising a man
Whenever he did buy.

He was a fascinating lad,
Deny it all who may;
Even moneyed men confess he had
A very taking way.

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Single Candle Light

The warm glow of a single candle flame
beckons a weary stranger there
to the bosom of a warm fire in
from the nighttime's cold.
A warm caring heart keeps the candle lit
to welcome back their love
from their long and lonely trek.
Each night they light the candle,
and sit waiting all alone,
hoping one night their love,
will glance on it
and return to their loving home.
The warm stretching finger
prods the darkness every night,
as it can be seen from miles away
across the empty prairie,
as they sit alone each night
by the warm fair light.
Hoping that their love will see its warm glow
and return to it and come home tonight

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Everyone Hates Me

The reason I feel so sad
Is because just when I thought that I had a True Friend
The very next I am always ignored
This feeling is painful and I do not know what to say anymore?
I know you think that I am a bad person
Although, if I am bad then why did I even care
In you I thought was a very caring human being
Truly, I wanted to care and never let you go
Reality is I have no friends, everyone hates me
Since, all that happens is people always misunderstand
I am sad, deeply sad
Now I want to forever lose myself, even more
Then, I will be a bad soul, really bad in your view
Think, I will go ahead and let myself be lost
More darkness is to come and I will not be able to survive it.

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A little angel who sings beneath an old bachelor's little sick heart

Thank you my dear little angel
Sing little louder please
As my hearing is little weak
Like the fragile little heart.
I remember once
I too sang my sad song
With my little companion viola,
Low pitch in solitary parks.
But angels were not seen
Those days.
Yes, my lost youth full of songs
But nobody knows
And only the withered flowers
Just smiled with a teardrop
In their innocent eyes
But I was little scared of unnecessary taboos
And left behind!

* I humbly dedicate this poem to my silent poet friend Dave Tanguay who resides in Florida!

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James Russell Lowell

For an Autograph

THOUGH old the thought and oft exprest,
'Tis his at last who says it best,
I'll try my fortune with the rest.
Life is a leaf of paper white
Whereon each one of us may write
His word or two, and then comes night.

'Lo, time and space enough,' we cry,
'To write an epic! ' so we try
Our nibs upon the edge, and die.
Muse not which way the pen to hold,
Luck hates the slow and loves the bold,
Soon come the darkness and the cold.

Greatly begin! though thou have time
But for a line, be that sublime,
Not failure, but low aim, is crime.
Ah, with what lofty hope we came!
But we forget it, dream of fame,
And scrawl, as I do here, a name.

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Running Mate

She's shallow and easily programmed.
And maybe that has something to do
With the size of the state she represents.
And that's not sexist at all.

When it comes to speaking about issues, facts and truths...
Her eyes aren't as focused.
In fact...
There seems to be deception hidden behind them!

As they seem to be when she repeats her beefed up resumé.
Making her the obvious choice he could have made,
As a running mate!
Moderate or conservative...
Or whatever those folks call themselves today.

'Right wingers who aren't liberal.
You know...
Those who pack guns, hunt and race cars.
And talk about how patriotic they are.

[...] Read more

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Rubbing Your Body With Sponge

work the hardness
of a day until it gets
soft in your heart
massage the sores
of existence
figure out the
leaks of lights
drink space and
open the mouth
like a cocoon
set free a monarch
butterfly
watch the colors
fly like a rainbow
disappearing
so the rain can
stop to shower
becloud and
be still

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For You I'll Fly In The Sky

24 hours until I’m there to hold you near
13,922 kilometers is worthwhile to fly to see your smile
A million miles I ‘ll walk so we can talk
The oceans maybe wide, but I’ll be by your side
The seas may divined, but nothing will stop me from being by your side

There’s no better way I want to spend my day
By your side I’ll lay, and by ecstasy I’m taken away
The birds cannot tweeter any sweeter
So sincere the laughter from you I hear
Adoring you is my career for I want you here

All I want to do is to be with you
Fill me with your charms for I want you in my arms
To have and to hold until we are old
Until the end of time when the bells no longer chime
Until there’s no more coastlines, and the sun no longer shines

To break you heart I’d never ever
You make my life complete for you are the very food that I eat

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Possessed Penis

i have a possessed penis, it wakes up at night and tries to strangle me right after i've turned out the lights, i cant be within six feet of a female, or it'll slither down her butt crack, through her anus then impale, after rupturing her intestine, and i quess when im ingestin' estrogen it helps a little, then i get the urge to molest again, i've invested in therapy, varying medications, now that i've tested them, i've decided that all i can really do is give in, thats my best defense, so i inject my pants with steroids and down a box of viagra, my penis shoots diagi-nally through the earths crust and then expands, splitting the earth in half, then i get a boner and shit my pants, it slams into the moon and blasts it to a million pieces, then rips the fabric and space and time and heats it, to such a high temperature with my spicey sperm, that it lurches warps and contorts like a little fiesty worm, like burnt plastic, i warp reality, with my burning bubbling bursts of cum, and dense phallic meat

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