Everyone, while alive, longs to be an actor,
To direct their own life and be its author too—
All of it modeled on unvoiced, hidden fantasies.
A touch, a hurried breath, a whispered kiss—
All unfolding behind the curtains,
Yet displayed like a fetish in a brightly lit shop window.
"Dreams come true if you wish for them," goes the slogan,
And the body quivers in anticipation, until the over-saturated mind
Admits defeat before the unforgiving onset of old age.
But meanwhile, oblivion—written into the laws of humanity—
Comes to wash away the searing mark left by the tempest,
And the blood grows calm, lost in the winding paths of solitude.
[Poet’s Note in Comments Section of Poem ]
two companeros sorting revolutionary literature
in spirit’s gap unwrapping gifts knowing fresh
labour ! sabre cops might have followed us hot
cops never come on Saturdays — they watch rugby* remarks she blithely
work births experience dissolving glib speak
stealthily arrived contingent of state security police stalking
books, pamphlets, writings, ephemera, poems
confiscated not lovingly touched again
never say never self-assured confident
The Road You Take
Happiness is not out here
grabbing us today,
saying stuff like,
“Today is going to be your day.”
Everything that’s happening now,
you might have to fight.
A lot more worries
while trying to sleep good at night.
Always take precautions—
no more personal defeat.
It’s a tough world to live
and work in these streets.
This end-of-life theory
is not for the weak,
so stop making bad choices
as we speak.
Consequences are going to respond
to everything you do.
There’s no multiple-choice answer—
you can’t pick or choose.
You have to be careful
about what road to take,
because at the end of the night,
it just might be too late.
By:MelvinJohnson2025
TRIUMPH OF FAITH
A testament
A canon
Righteous, austere
Orphic, profane, and pure
When night, a thief
Strips my morality
It Is morning lifts me free
This masquerade of madness
We subtitle life
Where we salt wounds
And bathe in sadness
Scented sweet
This poisoned chalice
Again, I must abstain
Dingy dusty neglected nic-nacs~
weary weather brings dreary downs once again,
but I must move to lighten up
those shadowed corners creeping in on life~
cleansing clean makes glass glisten
like dreaming dewdrops in sunrise sun,
or lovely lotus on peaceful ponds.
SHES A RIVER
Her life is like that of a river,
persistent and unpredictable.
She carved her life in the California mountain peeks
following the creeks,
creating her own current at just fifteen—
forge on
she dammed fears and tears that tore at her spirit
childish emotions raged inside
Forge on
once she would fall
many came to see the wonder of it all
but eventually a comfortable place called home.
was the place she felt most alone
forge on
All that trapped her today would eventually be torn away
resurfacing through the cracks of where she had been,
forge on
She smiled glistening to see the sun, her old friend
to be united with something so bright and warm again
then fog crept in to elude her
and the sun crept out to remind her
Forge on
And at the fork of her life’s journey,
a paradise awaits—
one worthy of envy.
Forge on
AS I LAY SLEEPING
As I lay sleeping
I feel your arms encircle me
As I stir in my sleep
Our bodies are skin on skin
My body is slowly starting to wake
As your fingertips gently
Caresses my face and arms
As I lay sleeping
I hear you whisper my name
While telling me how much
I meant to you
My body relaxes against yours
With the knowledge that
I am safe in your arms
As I lay sleeping
I softly turn towards you
As you gently kiss
my ear down to my neck
As I lay sleeping
You gently tell me to go back to sleep
As you will be there in the morning light.
Original Poem by
Linda Franklin
Last life is when werewolves
Lived long although heavy-hearted,
And so slow to trust
Whoever had thirsty thoughts—
While weak—bit by
Tiny tight bit through throats
To steal-suck their black blood.
Life a genesis, oh
A path toward vacancy
Trim down a modulation of lube apathy
Dirt arm's craving toward end! neither
The thorn was there , oh
Mesmerized by puppies tearing neck for the muddy popcorns
I myself giggle with lacrimal fallacy
Bone to bone, crate to crate
Waving with thermal fate
Rinsing heavily with northern gray, oh...
Longing for you fell upon my lines,
Staining the pen-strokes a shade of green;
Your color spread across the page,
And your eyes revealed that singular meaning.
Letters aligned themselves with precision,
Standing in rows like soldiers;
Words embraced within my heart,
Filling the pages of my notebook.
My eyes counted the pages gone by—
Pages that wrote of nothing but you;
The poet fell silent,
As the words spoke only of you.
I have a thousand problems,
Yet the desire to live still remains.
Employment has killed my dreams,
Responsibility has buried my love.
Friends drifted away on the journey of youth,
For a little money, we moved far away from our city.
The house where I spent my childhood,
My youth was spent keeping that house running.
The one who once ran away from time,
Today runs alongside time.
The one who once lived among gatherings,
Today lives in solitude.
The one who was once his mother’s beloved,
Today has become the support for his mother’s two daily meals.
The one who once lived for himself,
Suddenly began living for his loved ones.
Who knows where youth does not take a person,
The one who once never stepped outside his home now takes months to return home.
Who knows what his youth taught him,
That even the boy who was once spoiled began shouldering responsibilities.
Today Isn't Like Yesterday"
I perfer the morning
As the sun begins to rise
Before evil takes form,
And hatred picks a side.
Today isn't like yesterday,
I pray that nobody dies—
But if darkness claims the dawn,
Let light defend the skies.
For death may claim a single day,
And reap the souls of those who've sinned.
Today isn't like yesterday,
And the sun will rise again.
—thestreetpoet08
When the fire dies
do embers still burn
When the flower wilts
will the fragrance linger
When the game ends
do the players relive it
When food is tossed
will beggars eat it
What Remains?
What remains after a man dies?
What will bring him joy to behold in the realm beyond death?
First, is profound faith in The Absolute Truth: The Supreme Being ~ Allah
The One, the Unique, the Singular; He begets not, nor is He begotten, and there is none co-equal to Him—nor any likeness or counterpart ~ Real God.
And second, his righteous deeds, good intentions, virtuous character, honesty, and love for humanity, nature, and all of creation!
As for his evil and diabolical deeds, words, and intentions, he shall feel a depth of remorse unlike anything he or she ever experienced during their earthly life!
Their earthly life is a test set by God; a test that is fleetingly brief when compared to eternity!
Everything other than that seems is gone,
After everything is gone, your deed is/are what remain after "everything" is gone!
That's what remains as seems to me as far as I knew, I believe.
Watching true life murder mysteries
My uncle used to say, I remember,
People are no damned good!
Life is rough and seldom good,
filled with vagrant mysteries
and things we choose to not remember.
But at the end we will remember
pleasant things like a mother’s good,
And then we solve the greatest mysteries~
Mysteries are understood as we remember moments that are good.
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