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Pieces

popkultch nirvana by: carstie clausen

4/10/2020

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Immersed in Popkultch the soul is smothered,
 Sundered, even.
 The sensurround of sterilizing inanity
 anesthetizes, attenuates, adumbrates
 Those reflexions, connexions, selections
 Inherent in the inner self
  where understanding flows freely
  From one to one:
  Where all is of a piece
  In the realm of peace
  Where the role is that of play
  As fancy flows freely
  Beyond Time and Place:
  You are there, yet residing here
  Separation is but a barrier
  As life sets a stage
  Where webs, nets and traps
  Captivate the unwary
  Who go along to get along
  In a world where reality is not
  As it seems.
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where are your glasses by: benny hunt

4/10/2020

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I wanted to stay in the dream.
I don't know the dream, only how it felt:
silently noisy, softly pixelated, muted and colorful,
an underwater disco.
Usually I welcome the brassy glare and sharpness
of waking reality. For decades I've leapt from sleep, charging
into consciousness like a rebel soldier. The alarm trumpeting
my assault on the day.
But on this morning waking trickled
into me slowly. I went to relieve myself
leaving my glasses behind. So strange it is
for me to be glassless
I imagine someone asking me
          "Where are your glasses?"
I imagine my answer, so real it startles me:
sometimes I tire of the clarity of the world.
Sometimes I crave the fuzz and the blur of the undefined.
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escaping go by: anthony kikta

4/10/2020

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Escaping, where to?
How to do
Getting away from you
The "what" you cause
Experiencing less
Living in the frost
The ruin you bring
The quiet I sing
The silent ring
I beg it to leave
Makes me desirous to scream
But still to me it clings
It steals my life
It stole my wife
Its constant strife
Will it ever go
To God I've begged it to
If it is, it’s moving too slow
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doe by: david richards

4/10/2020

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Doe
Outside my window--
A doe. No,
Two does.
Do does do?
One doe does.
Do does do dew?
Dew on the window
Does not do
What does do.
Nor what dough does.
Dough does not do
What dew does.
Do does do dew?
No.
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human by: steven beauchamp

4/10/2020

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Tragic events and triumphant reprisals encapsulate us all
Pleasure temporarily abounds while pain steadily evolves
Savoring the sanctity of helping hands that soften our hastened fall
We graciously give from within our hearts the love God has installed

Through smatterings of ecstasy and splattenings of mournful tears
Beyond inconsolable shatterings and formidable batterings of fear
We overcome the timid patterings of our hear and courageously persevere
Amid the scornful chattering and violent streets unflattering to live another year

Robustly we laugh, agonizingly we cry, searching for ways to mask the pain we're denying
Despite our gaffes and musings why, we dust ourselves off and resolve to keep trying
hanging onto evanescent hopes and unrealized dreams, our crestfallen souls slowly dying
The unmerited compassions and charitability of others so truly awe-inspiring

In sufferings we share, in times of calamity we dare to rise above the fray
Never contest to be devoured by the afflictions and perilous challenges of the day
Though our lives ebb and flow within the tides of rebirth and inevitable decay
We strive to find the silver lining glimmering beyond the shadows of dismay

The gamut of emotions we wistfully fail to embrace or humbly succumb to
Leaves us wretchedly torn asunder as we trepidaciously figure out our next move
The tempestuous battle between love and hate intercedes within everything we do
We scream and yell and raise all kinds of hell trying to mediate this cosmic feud

Yet in bitter chagrin, when Father Time snatches of second wind, we start to fade away
We face the little of regrets and reality of impending death, faithful we're going home one day
As we aspire to stoke our fires and revel in the warmth of the coals that remain
We say our prayers and whisper our goodbyes as our swansong echoes its final refrain.
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writing the pain by: Robert porter

4/10/2020

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Life a M-F,
All the turns--the upset, the downs--the pain
Been through so much in this life often forget the sun
        going through so much pain,

4 months ago became a grandfather of 2 beautiful granddaughters:
          London and Royalty,
that feel so good just wish from certain people it was
          loyalty,
in the Fed joint doing years allowing my actions to serve
          another man informant,
same dude ain't sent me a crumb nor appreciated me having
          closed lips,
Life a M-F being 100 not as popular anymore the real
          not fully getting supported,
"Facts" hot ass dudes doing time whole city coming out
          real dudes touch only family few friends there,
been gone a year and lil change and woman of 3 of my jewels
          fake like was for me until I needed her,
angry because felt I wasted too many years and truly needed
          a solid queen on my side,
homies are supposed 2 be not holding the God down at all
          halfway fake luv,
Cooling keeping head high like a friend told me appreciate
          the true ones with me,
very poorly miss & love without question
can't wait to meet oldest granddaughter looking just like me.

Life a M-F tryna make the best of it and make it in
          this M-F life.
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sad and beautiful by: Benny Hunt

4/10/2020

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Like a red wine stain
on a ball gown
Like a cup of rainbow sherbet
dropped on hot asphalt
Like Christmas decoration spilled
from a toppled trash can
strewn in the dirty alley snow
Like your shimmery, polished toes in the front yard grass
surrounded by tactical boots
because of me.
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Poetry by: danny evans

4/10/2020

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A poem comes from deep within me.
I put it on paper for all to see.
I show it to all who are dear,
And read it aloud so that they might hear.
I do this all in bravery,
Conquering the stage fright and fear.
I carry it with me like a child who sleeps,
Then put it away hoping that it will keep.
I'll bring it out, these words on paper,
Like a gift or reward or a party favor.
Before these words can fully steep,
I will sip upon their worldly flavor.
Even though it's premature
I know the words; They will endure.
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on the occasion of her 100th birthday by: john sullivan

4/10/2020

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A bright milk glass
moon hangs above--
a disk that sat on a sideboard
in her warm home.
Luminous, opaque,
a dimpled white
she would fill and
leave candy out.
It is hidden away,
eclipsed now, safe
'til the time comes to unwrap
that lunic dish.
Shrouded like the moon,
like my Busia--
until time ends and Earth passes
and she shines again.
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death to life by: gary fisk

4/10/2020

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I am rotting flesh down to the bone,
broken, thrown away, in the cold hard ground,

underneath your feet, I am being fed on by worms and bugs
until there's nothing left.

I soon shall have nothing left to give
     the world. I have given it my body, mind, and soul.

From me they shall bring forth
     beauty from the earth.

New life from me. Don't cry for me.
     For me, this is just simply

          the ending of a journey.
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  • About
    • Christopher P. Dum
    • Halle Neiderman
    • Bengt George
  • Chapbooks
  • Listen
  • Lake Erie
    • Pieces
    • Authors
  • Grafton
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