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I loved you
as a thief
loves his secrets

buried you deep
where surface-level
lies
could hide you

I
wanted you
needed you
lost you
wanted you more
wanted you deeper
felt you
wanted you sorely
needy
I craved you
felt your lips
down my back
'tween my legs
on my soul
breathing into me
your spirit
your charm
your wit
your laughter

I'll never forget
your voice
the soothing grace
of how you felt
beneath me
in our dreams
in our living nightmare
of being alone
wanting
lying
falling asleep
in the arms of the ghosts
we've made
of each other...
I wrote this, thinking of someone who I am unsure whether I drove her off, let her go, or missed her coming toward me.

It hurts, thinking of the possibilities.
By how this poem came ready to speak its truth, I know she was special.
I just don't know if she was real...
Ken Pepiton Apr 30
No investment.
No skin off my nose.
- went back to Fool's day
- and then back to all in, free

No loss in time's eternity,
ended in the awesome knowing.

All trials in the ready past, ordo,

Seclorum Sanctorum Ordo, aside

ordinarily free visitor alien status,
-not allowed, they say, my status
holding no sway,
as a free spirit, they
no say, in the way things work here,
-crosswind to all good fortune

now was set to be long
before me, or thee,
verily
very mankindish, we may make do
imaginable causal agencies,
amen-emo-pet insurance
points in prepositioned order,
as we meander after looking out
past the creation of the sun,

some say, and may know, but we,
the common sensors on the planet,
amused and amusing others as well,

we are finishing a projected imagination,
the rites of spring, proposed as worthy
of our Fantasia evolution from Fool's Day,
through several saints days and processions,

all about the passions,
all appointed anointed salves
slick as any Bucky ball solutions
to the smooth, slave mind fear, hell,

set the captives free, break every yoke,
find the shibboleths and laugh at those,

not the accents ya'll'll use to abuse,
the speaker who stumbles …
tongue tied
while quoting Cretan poets.
This begins the next the last chapter
in a novel effort exerting
cohesion to seasonal changes on a long now clock.
i watched her extinguish
one of the candles
with dainty fingertips
while i hastily blew
the other one out
with a puff of cheeks
trying to be helpful
but getting it wrong
seeing what i had done
she scalded me playfully
deep down meaning it
telling how a candle
should never be put out
in that way

for blowing it out risks
expelling the positivity
all of the happiness
that its burning
had built up for those
who first lit that wick
bathing in the glow
of its healing light
that flickering flame
that keeps our shadows
dancing together
arm in arm
even if we simply
remain wrapped up
sat side by side

i don't believe
her theory necessarily
but i am left wondering
of all the candles
i have ever blown out
birthday celebrations
cosy evenings in
candle-lit meals
if what she says is true
i can't help but think
about those moments
of happiness and joy
that i have wasted
simply blown away
with a vacant breath
and an unwitting mind
David Hilburn Apr 22
Was sexier fun
Asleep, when thumbs excite...
The reason we wait on home
Is a secret in the wind, might?

Patient couth, with curves
Have asked us to walk by
And say hello to what worths
Seldom in love, a taste of pretty why?

Soap
And the honor, of a glaring
With the times, and a little hope
Hot on staring heels, we find caring

To be a magnificent kiss
Dragons with needy eyes first
A whole moment, alone in a world is...?
A wish to become better, before worst...

Do children know these things?
Do adults share what wisdom saw?
Do canny austerity, save any being?
Do a safer show of sensitivity, begin at home?
Feeding the first one home, when you never left, when only thoughts will do
A M Ryder Apr 3
He asks me if
I believe in angels
And before I realize
I don't have the heart
To tell him, I tell him
"Not Lately.."
And just wait
For him to hate me

But he doesn't
Know how to
So he never does
Loving like a man
In the time
Before God gave
Man religion and
Left it to them to
Figure out
What hate was
Power stood, but strength fell
A capacity to fear, but no more burdens to build,
The forlorn of a daughter.
While fault became honey, sweetly puréed upon the flesh I wore,
The drought of one’s character left dry this flesh.
Sticky and shriveled, was my existence.

———————————-

No conquest could restore, dignity or integrity,
The forlorn of a daughter, lost to the hunger of confectioners.
halfway along a mired path
with no option but
to gingerly retrace
their mud-caked steps
or simply struggle onwards
careful of each squelch
along that mud-caked path
the dog sits blithely at heel
appearing miserable
in this drizzling rain
but patient for his reward
and willing to wait
following unconditionally
while the man considers
his options and
the next poor decision
he is liable to make
Man Mar 8
Why does no one trust that I am wise?
When my words are rarely argued,
And I rarely use them to argue.
Only to show truth where there is lie.
And, by my own device, I have
The strength to allow the decision
Not to be brought, but arrived.
I only want you to look at what I see, if
You view and disagree,
Then we both learn something.
That I was wrong, and
You were right.
Man Mar 8
I cry at your confusion, truly.
I cannot see what you see,
Why we can not live together
As one people, free.
But tears dry before they fall,
Because I refuse to tend sadness.
Madness? Call it what you will,
If everyone thought as I did
We would be living in peace and harmony.
But, isn't that always the case?
Still I stake, hope and dreams
On the good naturedness of humanity
Because that is what we truly are
That is the core to our being, for
It is in your belief that gives such things life
And the first man did not rise to strike another
But to reach higher up the vine
To protect his young
To share in the gifts granted by the father of lights, these stars that fuel
Mother nature, who cannot stop giving
Even if it were her will,
And it is not. Because she loves you
Even if you do not reciprocate.
That love, unconditional;
Where man can learn.
Man Mar 6
If I can not foster respect from you
In action and in word;
If nothing is ever good enough for you
My respect, you haven't earned.
If you cannot accept me as I am,
You are the problem.
Because I am only human
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