PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I have a lot to say but I think you have more

I will be the echo

hold out a cliff in a bottle

for voices quieter than mine

I have a lot to say but I don’t even speak half your language

I am using my twenty-six letters

squeezing each of them dry until I run out of control

left with empty shells

I have a lot to say but this is not quite imposter syndrome

this is not quite empowerment

this is somewhere in the middle where I play hide-and-seek

knowing I am making it impossible for them to find me

so something will be better tomorrow.

As real as this is, as real as this feels,

I know it won’t feel really real

until I experience something tangible

like a riot

or being told to wear a star.

~ Best  From  Heart  ~
( The Blitz  Poem )

~0~

Just spreading Love Hope Joy Peace
 Just hoping for the best
 Best to happen
 Best everyday
 Everyday night and day
 Everyday all the time
 Time and time again
 Time all around
 Around comes and goes
 Around up and down
 Down play it all time
 Down there you go
 Go and don't waste time
 Go and don't look back
 Back you're again
 Back you've come
 Come and show me how
 Come and lets talk
 Talk once more
 Talk and make it right
 Right about us
 Right as it should be
 Be all between us
 Be once and for all
 All that is what I want
 All that is what I need
 Need that n' more
 Need is all this
 This can't be bad
 This sounds so good
 Good is to do it
 Good is to see
 See it all clear
 See you at last now
 Now at last
 Now I can see you
 You make me glad
 You make me wait
 Wait a long time
 Wait n' much more
 More I love you
 More of your love I want
 Want you night and day
 Want you I shout
 Shout your dear name
 Shout it with all my heart
 Heart and mind
 Heart and soul
 Soul
 Mind

~0~

Dorian  Petersen  Potter
aka ladydp2000
copyright@2019<center>

June.30.2020

“Kindness is a language which the deaf can hear and the blind can see.”
- Mark Twain-

~Author's Notes:

The ' Blitz Poem ' is a poetry form or style created by Robert Keim.

table manners.

sometimes I walk through the hall

and say hi to you.

but more often

I get to thinking

what is the point of two letters

making a sentence

when I would really rather leave you alone

or pour my heart out.

and yes sometimes

the table manners pass me over

but I would rather be home than here.

timekiller

I am spending clocks on it

waiting until the right moment to look up and

hi

let you know I am human

but this is not why I’m human.

Abra suddenly appeared;

He knocked on my door.

But I was startled,

So I slammed the door.

Later I went into the hallway,

And there he called me bitch.

I thought he would beat me up,

But he turned his back and went away.

It is a wide belief that knowledge is power,

Knowledge is freedom,

Only an idiot ignorant to thought might think himself free,

Looking above we deem it a cage,

A waste of human worth and price it so,

Therefore,

He without education or passion,

Unworthy of our riches in society is he,

Even still we see this fool take a claim in society,

Does this system we created mean flaw?

Who is the keeper of worth.

It is he

He is me

I was once so god damned rich
Might be hard to understand
To have anything you wish -
No matter how large or grand

For many years I did own
In the heart of Beverly Hills
The very loveliest home
With all the finest of frills

Two acres and twenty rooms
Silk sheets gold plated brooms
Maids drivers and every tool
My life was easy and very cool

Then came the financial fire
Of two thousand and eight
I lost everything but my ire
For I saw the truth too late

Endless dominos were falling
Mandelbrot’s fractal chain
With human voices calling
In choruses of deep pain

I had my share of dominos
And debt to crooked banks
So I suffered mighty throes
And to them give no thanks

The descent was immediate
The depression hard to stop
It seemed that nothing fit
And everything was locked

Irony - pair of dice in human hand
I say looking down at Beverly Hills
Earning cash - giving sexual thrills
In the back of some stranger’s van

You say it could not happen to you
You are too smart - or this or that
But if it did - what would you do
To deal with the new set of facts

Could you - would you - should you
Where - how - when and how much
Who with - what’ll you have to do
And will you ever again find luck

There are so many questions
When you are totally broke
And too many indiscretions
Before it’s all writ and spoke

I was once so god-damned rich
And now I am so damned poor
If it wasn’t for those I’d miss
I’d say - I don’t want any more

Cold

By jfarrell

I got no real concept of what really bloody cold is;

I’ve lived in London all my life;

Moscow, the Artic, Alaska…

They know what cold is.

Couple of weeks ago,

Washington had a windchill of -73….

So cold people died from heart attack,

Just because it was cold.

Here, in London,

I haven’t felt “warm” in months…

In thermal vest and long-johns,

Since October.

I’ve heard, often, Washington/New York weather comes our way,

6 weeks, 2 months later?

I don’t know if that’s true

But, I’m scared the coldest of our winter is still to come.

I’m scared of the cold to come,

I’ve no idea how I’ll cope with it;

But, at least I’m lucky enough to have a roof over my head;

Many have not, and I still remember my days homeless, long ago.

On the bright side…

It seems some councils have found a way to end homelessness;

By making it a criminal offence to sleep on the street in a sleeping bag;

And private residents, by putting spikes in doorways, to stop sleepers.

Hot cup of tea, safe hostels for the homeless…

Not ones full of gangs and drugs…

Might be more helpful…

But, what do I know, I’m a drunk.

Social mobility

By jfarrell

1970’s I grew up on council estate;

Drunk violent parents;

Raped by uncle at 5;

Beaten up by everyone that knew me.

Mum poured vodka down my 8 year old sister’s throat,

And dumped her on stairs when she passed out…

That’s why I got taken into ‘Care’ when I was 11;

A children’s home, a place of safety.

My keyworker grooming me for abuse….

….reallly, the illegal, hardcore pornography magazines?….

….

And nada di naada di nada….

Nothing…. nothing matters

Social mobility….?

Aspirations? Dreams? Being better?…..

I was born in to a scumbag home, to be a scumbag….

Nothing has always been my future, my destiny;

Social mobility…

I’m still here!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

And at 50

The pain paid to me I haven’t paid back….

However much I wish to turn on my chain saw

And fill my hunger,

My neeed, desire for vengeance, rightfulness…

Social mobility?

Huh?