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The Best Boils Down To Poems

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I may never know what exactly happened,
but I think I know the why of it


Put it in so many words,
but it all boils down to that.


shivers down my spine,
tears prickling my eyes,
as I hear once more the story,
the destiny
of two souls
one stormy day in July…

She was being stupid,
crashing into the waves that day
just for the thrill of it

He was being pensive,
reflecting on how those waves 
just somehow seemed to soothe him

People slowly left the shores
as dark clouds loomed in the horizon
save for these two souls...

She wasn’t even supposed to be there,
just a spur of the moment thing,
forgetting her other worries
she loved storms, she loved the beach
combine them and for her it was bliss…

He went there for closure,
the 10th year of his brother’s death
trying to accept that he did all he could
he loved him, he loved the beach
but guilt drowned him…

The rains then came down in sheets,
winds whipping, storm waves crashing
she was almost at shore though,
when the undertow pulled her back

He thought he was imagining things,
his brother’s ghost perhaps?
When he saw her again,
and fear was tossed like jetsam

Was she the answer he was seeking for?
His redemption in another form?
Was this the reason why he was here now?
Her only hope for salvation?

Rushing out to sea,
adrenaline rushing through his veins
Faith and Fate working together,
he swam towards her

and as they reached the shore
the winds dropped to a whisper,
the waves went back tickling sand,
the raindrops trickled into drizzles

She was breathing, thank God
He lay beside her, exhausted
She could only thank him with a smile
well, a smile that could match the Sun

and she took his hand...
and put it over her heart

It was not so much that their hands fit perfectly,
but there was something else...
mole on her right ring finger
perfectly aligning
mole on his left ring finger


Shivers down my spine,
tears prickling my eyes,
as I hear once more the story,
the destiny
of two souls
one stormy day in July…
and of why I am here.

** tadhana is a Tagalog word, it can be translated as fate/destiny/kismet

 July 25, 2010 

Copyright © kabuteng P.iNk k. | Year Posted 2010

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'A Thousand Steps'

A thousand steps in between 
who I was and who I am now 
do I wonder about the detours? 
do I wish I took the dirt road instead? 

Would my path have been smoother if I said no instead of yes? 
Would the worries have been less then what they are today? 

I guess I’ll never know, 
unless I go back in time 
choose a different path 
choose the least attractive offer and run with it

pipe dreams that is all my journey back in time would be 
‘cause I would not have met you 
and you would not be reading these words.... 

Everything in life boils down to an immaculate plan, 
it may not be my ideal plan or yours 
but in the end the voyage continues 
whether we want to or not…

‘Cause it is all part of the bigger picture 
in that image is your life and mine... 

We just got to embrace the journey 
no matter how uncertain it might be...


Contest: Anything Goes
7th Place

Copyright © Wilma Neels | Year Posted 2011

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Cubozoa, Cnidarian Invertebrates

Cubozoa, cnidarian invertebrates
Not the jelly you would put on a plate

This cubed shaped medusae, so potent they are
Once stung you will never move far

Their venom so potent that rarely animals survive
If humans are struck they are in fear for their lives

Once it pumps nematocysts into the skin
Be prepared for the pain to begin

If caught in time this can be addressed
Acetic acid has been found to be best

But to look at this species it's hard to believe
That they can end a life as it no longer breathes

In her nature world has she gone to far
That this beautiful blue, in oceans a star

It all boils down to how oblivious we are
If the truth be told, man is the monster

Copyright © James Fraser | Year Posted 2010

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Am I Turning into a Lizard Serial Killer

Hmmm, where do I start? With deep sighs, I am sighing right now.
I just finished burying 2 lizards, and my heart is heavy...

Let me back up a bit...bear with me if I might turn out to be confusing here,
but I just need to write this, release something, in some way
Although I must admit, this is not exactly what I had in mind to write for this day,
hopefully I can write something more decent later...

I have been wanting to write something for my brother since yesterday,
since February 26 is his 10th year death anniversary.
The words remained stuck in my heart, 'til I fell asleep.

Visited him again today, heard mass for him, 
ate a Chinese dinner with my parents and sister, went home.

I now needed dessert. Got a piece of Ferrero Rocher, but just one wouldn't do.
So I got a piece of Almond Roca this time and ate it while walking.

All this time, I have managed to keep my tears away
but maybe somehow, someway, if tears want to fall, they will find a way?

I walk to that area again as I ate that piece of chocolate-
when what do you know, what do you know??

Oh sighs.

I stepped on a lizard.  Again 

Yes. Almost exactly the Same area, tail falls off, and the lizard skitters away.

But. I did not slip this time. But, yes, I still screamed, scaring everybody again.

I. Could. Not. Simply. Believe. IT.

One month and 25 days after, I step on a lizard. Again.

Today, of all days. As if I needed more reason to be sadder.

This time around, I had the sense to try to find that lizard. 
I had to know if it lived, if it was okay.
I pushed away the nearby cabinet.
And there it was.
Rather, and there they were.

The lizard that I stepped on now
and the petrified remains of the lizard that I stepped on on new year's day...
the other one didn't live after all :(

I know it was that lizard, same area, no tail, who else could it be?
Survival mechanism, no match for my killer foot.

By this time, I am crying, sobbing. 
Seriously, the tears just start falling, and my heart so heavy.
And I know it's from the combination of so many things.
The day itself, what I had just done, just things running through me.

What broke my heart, was to see that lizard. 
I was wearing rubber shoes this time, last time I was wearing slippers.
And its guts had spilled from its sides. 
I couldn't help but keep on saying, "Oh, oh, oh lizard, I am so sorry"

I touched it feebly, and it was literally gaping its mouth.
I don't think I can ever forget that?
Such a small creature, gasping, with its insides out, 
its skin on its legs and body scraped.
In pain.

And it was all my fault.

My sister was there with me, trying to help in her own way.

But yes, there's nothing you can really do...I didn't want to stress it even more,
and let death finish what I did. 

There's so much I can glean from this, and I want to ramble on, so badly
but I will try to stop myself from rambling too much.

I put the two lizards, along with a note, the dates when I stepped on them 
(ok, killed them), and placed them carefully in a chocolate truffle box.

I buried them and still feel so sorry.

In some ways, this is can be so funny, and just  freaky & crazy (what's new, this is me?)
What were the odds??? Same place, same thing happening.
And I can't help but roll my eyes at myself as well, just finding it so hard to fathom
how I stepped on not just one but Two lizards in just two months.

I bet that the lizards are all afraid of me now, 
saying how I am a lizard killer. A serial lizard killer.
MO: stepping on them while screaming, maybe my screams also killed them off?

I actually took photos of both lizards, I am not sure why though.
Oh dear God, help me, I am acting like one, even documenting them.

I tell you, as I watched that lizard die, I couldn't help but just also
think of St. Jude (for the impossible) and St. Francis of Assisi (for animals).

I know he was dying, but somehow, yes, prayers still comfort me.

I just feel so guilty, with this happening. 

I still can't help but cry for those lizards, death by me, for no reason at all,
no purpose served.

Animals, people....death.

I know it's all a part of life... 
but it still doesn't change the fact how death can change us
and of how I am responsible for two lizard deaths.
I know they were just small animals, but Still. They were living creatures.

Death can change us in small ways, some in big ways, negatively or positively.

It all boils down to death transforming us one way or another...

I won't expound on it anymore, this is too long,
but one of the ways I can think of comparing it to, is that of a chemical change,
maybe of the spirit, the soul? Not merely a physical change.

And we can never be the same. 


Copyright © kabuteng P.iNk k. | Year Posted 2014

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'Life didn't break me

They said there will be days like this Where my heart refuse to beat Or my feet refuse to move I came too far To want to halt this journey now My eyes can only see so far But my faith keeps whispering You still have a mile to go I don’t want to quit halfway And deal with all the questions That might garner I will rather take it slow today Move at my heart's pace But I refuse to turn around I refuse to look back Like someone who regrets The choices they've made I will rather deal with the challenges That each day brings Than refuse to try That boils down to refusing to grow Ultimately when I do look back I want to see those tears and those broken moments As elements, that made me; me They didn’t break me They fashioned me

Copyright © Wilma Neels | Year Posted 2015

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How we choose to live our life
And treat others 
Good or bad
Happy or sad
All boils down to

For attitude is important
If you want to get on in life
You'll never please everyone
This is true
But a good positive attitude
May get you through
Life's varying terrain.

In some public places and while shopping
I often find assistants unfriendly and crude 
Having such a bad attitude
Can affect our mood
It amazes me how some make a living by
Scowling not smiling looking so miserable
And not friendly and giving.

While others are so warm their attitude is good
It's a real shame
Everyone's attitude is not the same
But a the world becomes a much colder place
Bad attitude to everything shows it's ugly face
For to me
Attitude s everything.

Peter Dome.Copyright.2015.May.

Copyright © Peter Dome | Year Posted 2015

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Those Thoughts (extended version)

Nightmares, shame, and despair---
You don't go anywhere.
All alone in your mind
even with someone by your side.

You think, "Why can't everyone just leave me alone?"
You thought the hint would be cutting off the phone.
But everyone wants you to release your cares.
The next thing you do is frown and ask, "Where?"

Stinkin' thinkin' is what your mom calls it.
Bad thoughts falling down a bottomless pit.
You wake up hoping those feelings disappear;
but, as usual they end up going nowhere.

You can't seem to get rid of the pain
and in your heart an eternal rain.
No one really knows how you feel
and you have friends that always ask, "What the deal?"

But tomorrow always comes.
Bad days for you, but good for some.
Disparaging words flow in and out of your head.
You're alive but you're living like you're dead!

They're like cobwebs in your mind
that you can't seen to bind.
The hurt is always there
which has always been your fear.

You don't see the destruction your thoughts have created.
Yet relationships were destroyed with the people you've dated.
You allowed your pain to take away time.
Your anger towards others has become the real crime.

It all boils down to that one thing in your past.
A terrible time that from your mind you've yet to cast.
The pain from the physical and spiritual rape
that rolled around in your head like an old videotape.

The abuser was like a father to you
and when it first happened there was nothing you could do.
You felt trapped like you could go nowhere.
His power over you was to instill that fear.

The "fear" is what's wrong
and you must discover another heart song.
Up to this point life hasn't been the best.
Maybe letting go of this is the next test.

There has always been someone that has loved you.
Someone who is capable of taking you through.
He's a Friend that sticks closer than a brother,
Jesus--- a Savior like no other!

If you don't give it to Him so you can thrive
you will plummet to the depths and never survive.

Copyright © Brandee Augustus | Year Posted 2009

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My first day of community service at Glen Oaks
Assigned to spend time with a few elderly folks
Spotted an old gentleman staring out into space
Weathered beaten hands and a sun etched face
How are you today old timer, as I grasp his hand
A firm grip followed from a once powerful man

I had just returned from an island hopping trip
Told him about the islands and the fabulous ship
I went to St. Croix, St. Martins and Martinique
Stopped at Montserrat to overlook the peak
So many activities hardly any time to sleep
Shore excursions great, unbelievably cheap 

The old gentleman turned and looked away
Choked up on something he started to say
Room fell silent for the longest spell 
Son, I took a voyage that’s so hard to tell
It started and ended in the cauldrons of hell  
Then sighed so quietly as the tear drops fell				

My pals and I went on an island hopping trip
Sleeping on the deck on an overcrowded ship

First stop was at a place called Guadalcanal
There was so much noise, a percussion chorale
The local occupants got upset at our arrival
Just getting ashore was a matter of survival
All we wanted was to use their landing strip 
We were so insistent, they left, gave us the slip


Next stop was an atoll, place called Tarawa
Desolate,  awaiting brave mens soul to devour
We had a difficult time getting onto the beach
Tides were  low,  corals too shallow to breach
The locals didn’t take kindly to our arrival
Being denied admittance just wasn’t our style

Next stops were Kwajalein, Saipan and Peleliu
At each and every landing we left quite a few
Inhabitants of these isles were a  hostile horde
Yet our perseverance could not be ignored
We combed every inch in our search to achieve
Removal of the objectors, there was no reprieve
We overcame the objections to our presence
Committing these isles to perpetual reverence

Most hostile place  was an island called Iwo 
Soft sands made progress unbearably slow
Sinking sands made firm ground hard to reach
We left great numbers, still, on the beach
It took great courage to get over the dune
Each attempt exposed by a cloudless moon
Valor and bravery continuously put on display
Total commitment was the order of the day

A planned six day excursion took sixty days
Hard to evict the denizens  out of the caves
Some of these folks were so hard headed
Sealed up the entrances, left them embedded
Our single purpose  for “ Super Forts” to reach
More than paid for by those left on the beach
Island hopping seems innocent phrase to say 
Boils down to how much one is willing to pay

Copyright © John Arribas | Year Posted 2016

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The core of you Does not float like you think it does It is anchored in what you believe You sometimes don’t fathom all of you Because you reject the reflection What your mind is telling you You refuse to acknowledge That at times floating Prevents you from taking responsibility It’s like an emergency exit That you continually run towards Whenever life gets tough You can float all you want Until one day The decision will be made for you Only then will you realise to float Also boils down to a choice It might not be in the direction you hoped But then again you had the choice But you refused the offer Because you preferred to float

Copyright © Wilma Neels | Year Posted 2015

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Day In, Day Out Faith

As far as Jesus is concerned
Authentic faith
Meaning day-in
Day-out intimacy with Him

Isn’t it difficult to understand
But frequently difficult to do
Faith is in a nutshell
Do not be afraid

Jesus gives this advice to a heart-broken father
He gives the same advice to each of us as well

Though the word has many meanings
In the context of a Christian spirituality for everyday life
Faith mainly boils down to one thing

In the midst of all our big and little fears
Jesus scoots up next to you and whispers in your ear
Do not be afraid
Work on trusting me

Copyright © Jacqueline R. Mendoza | Year Posted 2015

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I Saw Jesus in My Coffee this Morning

I heard it percolating and I just knew it would be a most special cup

Every morning I anticipatedly go and wash out my old cup from the day before

The dread of doing dishes is always before me and with my meager income

Who can afford a maid anyways? Right?

I sit down to write as I do almost every morning 

And through the steam from my coffee cup I saw him

Yes I did! 

And you cannot convince me otherwise!

I saw Jesus right there in the middle of my coffee cup!

His reflection was brilliant and I almost saw his eyes of blue

I was smiling like never before and he was simply smiling back at me

Mona Lisa ain't got nothing on my Lord's smile!

And his smile is priceless too.

His smile is the only thing I long to see any time, anywhere, you name it!

Basically, what it boils down to is this...

You can find Jesus in anything if you really focus

I know I do!

Well, I gotta go now and enjoy my first and last cuppa coffee for the day!

gwendolen rix

Copyright © Gwendolen Song | Year Posted 2015

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Ouote of the Day from Mae

Tried abstaining but my morals shifted
I observed that my curves were God-gifted
Hey, it ain't that complex
It all boils down to sex
I used to be Snow White but I drifted

Author: Mae West - One of the first liberated ladies
Quote: "I used to be Snow White but I drifted"
Frank's contest

Copyright © Tim Ryerson | Year Posted 2012

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I am happy to be alive—or am I?
I embrace each new morning… or do I?
I take in the sun, sky, moon and stars and find myself in awe of their Maker~
Genuinely-- or a contemplated bargaining conjecture?
To take a simple day and turn it into one of memorable happiness, pleasure and contentment, satisfaction, joy and wellbeing is an unambiguous choice of vindication.

It happens in that honest  moment in time that we have as we uncover our veils of the unconscious protection of dreams and enter into the conscious realms of the reality of a new morning~ the dawning of new opportunities, and lessons of character to be learnt.

Some days the choice of entering the waking hour is tolerable—others completely formidable.
It boils down to consciously making the simple choice of pulling the duvet back and placing your feet firmly on the ground.

The decision for happiness is to try and see outside ourselves~
To understand the tides, and excuse our highs.

To be up close, yet distant~
To see the sky, the sea, the ocean, the moon… all blue
But the colour of Happiness is ambivalent-equivocal and enigmatic.

Happiness is a resolution and at the same time-- a conclusion.

Copyright © Kim van Breda | Year Posted 2013

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'This heart don't beat for you anymore'

It might look convincing 
But I just don’t feel it anymore
When people talk about it
I don’t feel it anymore
The rhythmic blows don’t hit home
The sounds are all spent
Just hollow, the refrain
It doesn’t mean a thing
I don’t think it ever did

The beating of your heart
Is not a conduit anymore
It’s like walking a labyrinth 
Wall to wall 
On a path to nowhere
'Cause this heart don’t beat,
This heart don’t beat,
This heart don’t beat for you anymore

You don’t need to feel it
‘Cause it’s written all o’er my face
It’s not like I planned it
It’s just the way things ended
Hearts can’t be dictated
I’m sorry if this hurts 
But I can’t play this role no more
I’m sorry if I’m breaking your heart

The beating of your heart
Is not a conduit anymore
It’s like walking a labyrinth 
From wall to wall 
On a path to nowhere
‘Cause this heart don’t beat,
This heart don’t beat,
This heart don’t beat for you anymore

Saying I don’t feel it
Boils down to conviction
The moving signs are everywhere
It’s clear like daylight
My heart refuses to beat for you

The beating of your heart
Is not a conduit anymore
It’s like walking a labyrinth 
From wall to wall 
On a path to nowhere
‘Cause this heart don’t beat,
This heart don’t beat,
This heart don’t beat for you anymore

Contest: Dear John
Placed: 7th
© All Rights Reserved

Copyright © Wilma Neels | Year Posted 2011

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Best Sentences

My father in law died with a pen in his hand.
His heart crossed that last line of time. He was at the dining room table paying bills. Isn't that something? Life ending in the middle of his most important sentence. His girls said he died doing what he loved, paying mama's bills. Life boils down to arithmetic. The simplicity of it: addition, the gathering of years; subtraction, the relinquishing of fears. Somewhere in the middle of solving our problems, we've got one moment to say it plainly. And maybe, it isn't in what we say or how we say it. Maybe it's in our actions. The pen just a mechanism. Others decide if we're paying bills or writing love lessons. We might not be given the opportunity to speak love at the right time, maybe it's an accumulation of sitting at the dining table paying bills year after year. The pen just a mechanism to show what the heart has already shown. 
I miss you pops. I know you're up there auditing heaven's riches teaching me how to get the most out of each sentence.

Copyright © TS Lewis | Year Posted 2015

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Should we invite the neighbors over for dinner?
Their politics so different from ours.
All the more reason. Combat anomie!
He's worried the town's losing population
but opposes immigration. I like immigrants
but hate passing people on my morning walk.

The whole mountainous western region of the state
is losing population at a rate of 1% per annum.
The young move out, the old stay put but
young artists priced out of big cities move in
looking for affordable studio space. How low
can the population go as long as rents stay low?

We did agree about the fire department expansion
being premature (him) or unnecessary (me).
He argued we should renovate the high school first
the roof is caving in and walls crumbling.
But you can teach under a spreading chestnut tree
or baobab and science needs the world more than a laboratory.

I teach at the old 2nd St. jail in Pittsfield
a town that doesn't know if it's coming up or going down.
A few shootings last month, no deaths.
They're holding their breath but also trying to attract life
science businesses to the industrial park. The local bank's
expanding, buying smaller banks in neighboring civilizations.

Eventually our fire department got the vote they wanted,
just called another meeting and packed the auditorium.
The final winning argument was we can do the school,
the fire house and the police station all at once.
Don't accept defeat, limitations. Defeat anomie!
Anomie means lawlessness and purposeless in Greek

so that's not exactly what we're trying to defeat.
It's the mismatch between our aspirations and resources,
no, the dissonance between our tribe and nation,
no, the individual as sexual animal and intellectual,
no, the farmer and the banker, the loved one and the litter,
no, whatever happens to you after you die and belief in reincarnation.

For me, it always boils down to mortality
every conversation, which is why no one comes to dinner.
Whether the fire department buys an exorbitant parcel
at the expense of a future school renovation
in a town slightly losing population but still viable
with a college, bank, artists and a few working farms

is everything and nothing, as Borges says.
Deutsch says death ought to be curable.
The new high school or fire station, conditions like anomie
v. democracy, new life forms, self-conscious species
from the laboratory or the biome. How de body?
Today ok. Tomorrow I don't know. Potential

energy, lover, killer, anomie. Karl Popper
had such faith in the rational whereas Niebuhr
acknowledged man's ego is uncontrollable except
by force. Conflict is inevitable. But at dinner
we agree it doesn't always have to be violent or terminal.
We can do the fire department, police station, the school and anomie.

Copyright © Robert Ronnow | Year Posted 2015

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' Why Do We Believe ? ... '

… Oh, Why Do We Believe ? …
… Because Real Legends, Never Leave
A Mistaken Myth, May Be Reality
Or Was It Just A Folklore Legacy

Is A Pure Promise, A Prophecy ? …
Oh, Why Do We Believe ? …

… All Our Storytelling Around Camp-Fires
Or Storytelling, Beneath Architect-Spires
Tales … To Help Get Thru Muck and Mire
But … Who Speaks True and Who Are Liars ? …

Which Promise, Is A Prophecy ? …
Oh, Why Do We Believe ? …

Pray Tell – Does A Myth Explain Mystery ?
Pray Tell – Will That Legend, Live For Eternity ?
Is It A Diluted or Overdeveloped History ?
Will The Story, Stand The Test of Accuracy ? …

Does The Promise, Point To A Prophecy ? …
Or A Fleeting, False, Folklore, Fantasy ? …

… For We Make Dream-Worlds, To Cope
and Dope and Smokes and Gold-Wealth-Ropes
or Super Heroes, Knights and Words, Wrote and Spoke
‘Cause Humans, Must Dream, We Must Have Hope …

… It Is In Our Everyday, Hustle-Scope
In Each and Every, Hurry-Clock-Stroke
Until, From Myths, We Have Awoke
And Live by Honor, Instead of A Hoax …

Holding Promise, and Hoping Prophecy
Bring The Proof Of Why We Believe

Yes, That Is Why We Believe
In All The Beauty, Our Souls Can Conceive
We Believe, We Can Achieve and Succeed 
But, We Know, We Need Someone Who Will Lead !

… So, That, Is Why, We Still Try …
And Why Real Legends, Just Won’t Die …
And Make-Believe Myths, Are Exposed As Lies
When Prophecy, Pass Before Our Eyes …

… and All Will Know, Why We Believe
and Believe, As Long As We Breathe !
As Long As Hearts Beat and Bleed
… Because Our Hearts Can’t Survive … Faith-Bereaved

Oh, Why Do We Believe ? …
And All Believers and Dreamers, Say … Wait And See ! …


There Is More Factual Proof That God Is Real
Than Any Other Person Ever Lived…
That Includes: Julius Caesar, Plato, George Washington
King Henry, Cleopatra, Shakespeare and Tennyson
And Most People Believe and Agree, They Existed
But The Notion of Almighty God, Is Still Resisted
Now, In All Instances, (We Were Never There) …
… I Guess, It Just Boils Down To A Prayer …

                       The  MoonBee

Copyright © MoonBee Canady | Year Posted 2009

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Pretend Friend

I would prefer an enemy to be my friend Than having a friend who is only pretend You’ve been caught in several lies From what I’ve seen with my own eyes Please don’t keep being a pretend friend to me That’s not how our friendship is supposed to be It’s very disappointing and it hurts a lot To know your true friend is truly not We’ve known each other so very long here You know coming from me it’s all sincere We’ve crossed a bridge with no back track Knowing we could only just glance back The intimacy we used to have is all over now Maybe our friendship can be saved somehow If you are a pretending friend with me You are pretending to others too evidently You’ll never find true love when you deceive You will only get tangled in that web you weave I do apologize for pretending to you as well God loves us both we are not going to Hell Now I was a pretend friend to you too Because I didn’t tell you when I knew The lies you told put me in a bad mood That’s when I decided to cock an attitude It was like a shield so you couldn’t get in It pushed you away from being my friend I tried to overlook the way you treated me And pretending you cared for me intimately We had no commitment just a deal To be truthful and to be for real Lies are like rubber bouncing all over the place They bounce right back up and hit you in the face Untruthfulness is an ugly sight to see No matter how attractive you may be The hurt inside comes from seeing you pretend Especially more so because you are my friend You owe nothing to anyone, no not you And can do what ever it is you want to do It’s just that it actually all boils down to A friend is supposed to be someone true Did you not really know what a true friend should be? Did you forget that the true friend was supposed to be me? A true friend is someone you are truthful to And one who is also truthful to you Now a one-sided deal Means the friend is not real And that’s the friend I would call pretend So please think twice before you do it to me Unless you are sure you want our friendship to no longer be Don’t lose this friend who wants only to encourage you Though it would be nice for you to encourage me too I thought I had a special friend that was true And I really thought that one was you Some advice from a real friend Please don’t be a friend who becomes so pretend Luv ya, Florence McMillian (Flo)

Copyright © Florence McMillian | Year Posted 2012

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Never expected to find you
So much I wanted to tell you
Actually boils down to a warm thank you
Your glowing smile I can still picture
Still remember your laughter
You seemed much older and wiser
In your eyes that deep piercing look
Revealed the wisdom of an old soul’s book
Maybe even the charm of an angel’s hook
Touching lives with your sprinkle of gold
We were so young, barely twelve years old

To this day, you had an impact on my life

Submitted this February, 2018

Copyright © Line Gauthier | Year Posted 2018

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Poker Night

The house is full of Kings and Queens.
For each other thrive on whats unseen.
While each of them believe their aces.
It boils down to stories on their faces.
Playing each hand as though its won,
before the round starts and the flop is done.
Can't you feel the twitch we see.
Tells us all that we should flee.
Your subtle gasp while placing chips so rough.
It is a sign of another weak bluff.
Those who stay await the turn
to look for the card to make others spurn.
The deck has fewer of what you need.
At this point the smart will concede.
Those who remain understand the odds.
The river may cause a curse of their god.
The hand is over now all is seen.
Did they read right the tells that were noticed by the keen.
Their house is full of Kings and Queens.
Only to lose to all the Aces, how mean!


Copyright © Adam Hapworth | Year Posted 2013

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The Funky Train 2

  The nation is very rich indeed
 Wounded out of loss direction;
 Wounded out of lack of ambition,
 Weeping out of lack of impulse;
 Wounded out  of  lack  of imagination,
 Ingeniously exhumed out of the citadel of corruption;
 While the funereal ultimately boils down to collateral.
 In the funky train,
 All the hoo-ha-noisy end in fisticuff;
 And the crumpled greenback hand-out cough,
 The law has nothing to handcuff,
 Kindred turned puppets loss of self-worth in defacto state
 of war,
 Faced with hemorrhaging despondency;
 And splitting migraine disillusionment,
 Miseenscene always greeted with fire and blood,
 With fight and struggle half dead;
 To trip in goats, straw and timber carrier,
 Inevitable suicide spoof of teeming commuters,
 And a caterwauling exodus end in thousands of legs under
 the sea,
 Carnival of Sharks tongue-smacked and praise-devour the
 abundant feast;
 While the aura of authority has little or nothing fish,
 Often, sudden delight death cry of assailed victims,
 Owa! Owa! Owa! {Alight}
 A cry for shanty shambles bus stop,
 As if deaf, the tyrant conductor
 Lashes out in blinding curse and abuse;
 Pressing and shoving for umpteenth fares,
 Owa! Owa! Owa!
 A plead for just a measure of tonic air, 
 Hard kerchief to wipe off addicted
 Face of invincible gossamer,
 Diabolical gene galloping in strides;
 As compassion flees from rigours of heart of stone, 
 If swearing non-syllabic stunned altercating joust;
 Could result in re-ordering of the lost world,
 Plotless plastic lives of mean children of absentee Mamas
 and Papas,
 Would gauche braggadocio even king to brutal submission; 
 O! wretched loud louts touts,
 Very loud louts touts foaming with tactless forming;
 A riposte, may your road be rough,
 A stamp on every man destiny.

Copyright © Afolabi Taiwo | Year Posted 2011

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What It All Boils Down To

Pot boiling over.
Steamy heat. Pulsing bubbles.
Boils down to nothing

Copyright © Samantha HAYNES | Year Posted 2013

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Listen in,

I, hear in rhythm, speak in rhyme, 
watch my words reverberate through space and time,
a 5th dimensional element,
the existentially elegant. One. 
The harvest of the father's seed, 
reaped by the mother's hand. Son. 
Facing the trials of endless miles of unseen roads, 
with sole-less shoes and open wounds covered by tattered clothes. 
Just me and God, and where this journey leads, 
only one of us knows.
A story in the making of glory for the taking,
of triumph, of victory, betrayal, forsaking. 
The story of a king, serving under the King. 
The story of the proven one, prolific one, of me.
If you could look through my eyes and see what I see, 
you’d see the pieces to life’s puzzles hidden beneath.
A surface made of, shady vanities
masked in sensual profanities,
that appeal to the masses,
and exploit all humanities’, 
weakness, is what it boils down to, 
we all have it. But rather than rooting it out, 
we choose to conceal it under million dollar camouflage
and use perfumes to mask the scent of our doubt.
Trying to realize our identity within
but failing to realize our identity in Him, 
He being the one who allows us to transcend,
and hear in rhythm, speak in rhyme, 
watch our words reverberate through space and time, 
be a 5th dimensional element,
an existentially elegant. One. 
Crossing boundaries this world has deemed prohibited.
Because God’s Universal Reign is Unlimited.


Copyright © Cairo Asikari | Year Posted 2014

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material girl

Her materialism 
can not fade my material
what it boils down to
is heart measures people
soul should be ones
soul possession
everything else 
considered a blesin'
so next time you look in the mirror
ponder this question
why do you look down on those
you depict as less fortunate?
without all your worldly possessions 
you ain't got sh@%
All your overpriced boots
purses, jewelry from Tiffany
has transformed you 
into the epitome
of what makes people 
look at each other differently
poisoned have you 
our world 
your kind
always trying to redefine
gods law
that all are created equal
so unless your the sequel
to the resurrection
the only one you need judge
is..... self
find some real sense of direction

Copyright © Michael Arehart | Year Posted 2010

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Next Monday I get my peepers checked Certainly couldn't be better timing Bumping into walls, wearing Cathie's sciveys For my 20-20 vision I'm pining Fed our bird Tweety a big bowl of dog food Fed our dog Rover some bird seed Rover tried to fly off the top of his doghouse While Tweety lifted her leg to pee Hope I don't do myself some bodily harm While hoisting my bum on the sink Thinking they're making toilets a lot higher A peeper check is overdue, I think By mistake I donned one of Cathie's gowns Felt so silky and sexy and girlie But Cathie caught me posing in front of the mirror Thought I was starting to act kinda squirrely A real dilemma most unusual to encounter During my very short stay here on earth What it all boils down to is very bad eyesight But it causes much laughter and mirth © Jack Ellison 2015

Copyright © Jack Ellison | Year Posted 2015