how happy can Loved be can you imagine
for siding me
the world of poets have taken my advice,
more compose freer verse
and avoid being routine-sh terse
many no longer adopt
ab ab ac ac
and what have you,
if Loved didn't exist
nor would have Shakespeare too

So be yourself and express
what you need to say
poetry is just an emotion
a flow of feelings
a desire only to ease tension
as more share with you gradually
so thank
Lovedly

The protoplanetary disc
would make a man.
Organics there assumed a risk
and life began.
In alkali of nascent rain
new RNA had much to gain
and much to lose with lofty plan
to make a man.

The chemoautotrophic bisque
unhurried span
abundant seas now teeming brisk
with microbe clan.
And bathed in this interior~
The Universal Ancestor
shaped carbon as an artisan
to make a man.

Bisque; a rich soup (French)
As for the rest of it~ Google!

If my mind is ever present
and my solitude's a friend,
dark ideas lead to actions
darker actions, towards a trend;

a stoic calm is my exterior
never, ever break a sweat,
in the hollow of my inner being
I've this appetite to whet.

Within the chasm where my soul goes
a dank pulsating yearns to start,
tuning out the distant conscience
because I haven't any heart !

Hope is gone,
Dreams are dead,
Angry words were the last said,

You slammed your door,
You sped away,
My heart swore to me you’d stay,

It was just a fight,
We both had lied,
But I let it touch my foolish pride,

You wanted to forget it,
To just move on,
God I wish I had now that you’re gone,

Tears stream down my face,
As I cry your name,
I didn’t realize I could feel this much shame,

Snowing in the angel garden.
a hush soft and stilled is waiting.
calamity unfolds her pure wings,
and sheds a feather.

She will not shiver.
her warmth is strong!
the muse delivers,
a quill,
a charm.

The fire speaks
stirring sharp, its
textures through
the ash stained glass,
making dancers in the dark.

And in the foyer all
alone, the eucalyptus
stands in a jar of stone.

It's four A.M. the cold wind blows
seeking entry into silent house
yet tired eyes refuse to close
pen darts on paper like a mouse
transfering thoughts and verse from mind

Through the window sickle moon
slowly slides across the sky
daylight will be breaking soon
as frost forms on a land turned dry
on mantle, clock gears slowly grind

Insanity is
another face for one coin
called humanity.

Your absence has been branded
Cat ,
where once in a while
in the universe we all call wilderness,
thou escapist to make folks wonder
where the poet has eloped
and when the return is un-sounded
hearts begin to thump again
poets like me are grounded
is it you once again?
I can't believe my weary eyes
some tear drops always remain,
anyhow that's my luck
twill always be the same

those who love me are very few
almost nil 'tis true

There’s a gaping hole in my chest
where you tore my heart from me
You took the parts that were the best
left my mind in misery

I’ve been zombified

As I walk amongst the living
no soul left to me
It’s no breath of life you’re giving
I’m not ever free

I’ve been zombified

And the music that you play
keeps me chained to you
While you pipe away the day
there’s nothing I can do

I’ve been zombified

stutter

Spit and grip on the freedom tip.

Dig the street rhapsody,

soliloquy of the disenfranchised

who witness the lies, alibis, bought and paid for,

playful no more. Meet pissed with a fist and get the gist

that an ignored scream is better than a pliant whisper.

I can't remember an ember so limber it locks in to box in

the hatred. Smoldering, holding in

the ten word long expletive before I begin again.

This sail is full of wind, the volume is kickin' in,