How ironic indeed that freedom won
to shake off shackles of dogma sons
and daughters dear
should be so roundly trounced
with teaming steers of fear

Fear found out the skeleton in cupboard
now Facebooked
Fear found out your current CV cache
now cached on your future bosses board

Oh dear, how quaint a concept is privacy now
when future others ask "how"?
How did we lose that bastion strong
that kernal of "us" that's now
perpetually "wrong"

And sometimes I feel. I just have to get away.
Run off, into the forests, wild and free
The blue streams will lap at my ankles
The warm sun will cast rays on my face
And I will laugh, I will cry.
Free from the constraints of societies heavy bonds
But for now I am trapped
Trapped, by my alarm in the morning, my daily routine
By the way I must act, the things I must say.
And the disease of consumerism
Is devouring me, inside out
For now I am trapped
But one day I will be finally free

I was in my white padded room
When a black cat walked by
I asked where he was going
Expecting a “meow” in reply

He said he was travelling
Asked if I would tag along
I said perhaps yes
It never felt so very wrong

We arrived pretty soon
And was eating many small delights
I knew what each one would bring
The labels were right
Time was passing
Perhaps seconds perhaps days
I was lost in my mind
It had become a hedge maze

Okay children, here is my final submission for your perusal. It concerns the blade of Princess Clair'ice Christenson who is one of the heroines in my epic poem ÇAÇÔ, Man of the Morning Star. It is written in strict "heroic verse" which is to say Dactylic Hexameter. I have not scanned it. That I leave to you if you would.

the world in its saucer
is simple
the world upside
in the right
of wrong

arrived
not home

there is a place I can
and will be comfortable

sometime

instead I hold a cigarette
in the bold stark light
of the parking lot
counting stars

no one means their
business to be so sharp
they cant see it cutting
when they pull all
the anger in

all I can see it the
difficulties and tangle
and inside its just
more of the inane
question

You may hammer

Friend your article comes
a century too late
I'm a distinction holder in Literature

Grammar a big Zero

they had to pass me
how?
now you know
so I switched on to poetry
with all its
glow
flow
slow
and dough
I’d let grammar down the Thames flow
MY HERE MY GRAMMAR
does go
and
here I too go

ANTI-RANDOLOGY by Ron Woodruff

For the LUCK-/y do SMILE/ for the NEED-/y please TRY/ when in MOURN-/ing do CRY.

We are BE-/ ings of Flesh/ we are TRAPPED/ in this MESH/ love don't QUEST-/ion MORE.

Is it HARD-/er to SEE/ the small DIFF'-/rences plea:/ we are KIN/ 'til we DIE.

for the CHILD-/ ren we HOPE/ on the GLOB-/al scope WE/ must spread LOVE'S/ blessed SPORE.

Ron

The Dome by Ron Woodruff (BlueDemon77)

SCARS lock up | OUR o-pen | GASH-es clean. | SUCH does the | MIND mend life's | PAIN-ful breach:

MEM-or-ies | SPEC-ter like | STRIKE in sleep | BRING-ing past's | TOK-en mists, | PHAN-tom smell

WELLS-i-an | VEN-ture to | VIEW the once | KNOWN shapes of | GRACE-ful breast | STRETCH in reach

HAND grown cold | CHEST pal-lor | DRAINED to know | PAIN of loss | ALL too well.

Ron

Take me to paradise
Where the grass is always green
On any side.

Take me to a place where worry is no more
Where tears fall as raindrops on rose petals
Where love paints a rainbow.

There's no love to be found after the sunsets
And the words of destruction fall as stars from heaven
When I fret.

Please don't eat the flesh of my desire
With your beastly claims
Aimed at my flesh when I try.

CRASH!
the thunder went, lights are out
power shut.
We feel through the dark til we find each other.
I hear you breathing,
loudly
but steady. I
put my hand on your chest to feel your
rhythmically dancing heart.
I smell your skin and I am filled with the must of your cologne.
I drink in the silence as I stare into the abyss of darkness.
The hair on your neck raises as the soft wind goes by.
Lip to Lip we meet once again as if I have found my better half.