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That Very Thin Line by Shamaiah Tibet

That Very Thin Line

We sucked up that thin line between love and hate.
Our hearts becoming black holes as our energy collected in space.
Electric.
We didn’t dare touch it.
A shame, for it would have revived us…

Thor's Helmet Courtesy of Hawaiian Starlight and CFHT © 2007
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Doug Holder’s Furnished Room-Newbury St-Boston: 1978

Courtesy of Shabunawaz Photography © 2010

By: Doug Holder
_______________________________________

The raw, coiled

red glare

of the hot plate–

the urine stain

of a sink

and the waft
of Red Sauce

from Davio’s below–

The head
a short, anxious scamper

Courtesy of Shabunawaz Photography © 2010

down the hall,
the hacking cough

of the retired civil servant

Courtesy of Shabunawaz Photography © 2010

through a thin wall.

And the spinster

who peers from

the crack in her door

gathers her pennies
and courage

for her big trip

to the corner store,

the wooden ladder that

ascended to a tar roof

the sweet /sorrow scent of city, rain and sea…

and my youth…

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O’ Laughter by Andrew Borne

Courtesy of Shabanawaz Photography © 2010
Boats in the Ocean Courtesy of Shabanawaz Photography © 2010

O rain who falls upon the waves
O waves who bend across the sky
O sky who hears all notes that laugh
Laughing for the rain, waves, and sky

O air who falls upon the grass
O grass who carries bumbling bees
O bees who paint the purple laugh
A laughter through the busy breeze

O laughter fall out of a voice
O Voice who flares along each path
O path a mystery to behold
Behold, thank God, a living laugh

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ehh, huh hu huu, eh Beavis (j.write)

here we go, with another tail
of how three cats ended up in jail
peace through pain is back again,
and i will not fail, so I keep it calm
while I drop my bombs, my wordplay
is so great. I can write a poem
while I’m zoned, and it sounds so great.

But when i fall, I fall hard, mania, depression,
I can sing a song, in a lesson, but I wont do wrong
cause my name is J.WRITE,
and i keep it chill every single night, making my mind
get tighter and tighter, working on the wii like im a prize fighter
cause, I like being me.

a song of threes, a mental disease, the trees, the seeds, i like to be me.

because my mind is offline, i can’t write all the time. i can sing a song, like Im doing now, and how can I come back the original sound.

cause my mind, keeps irking me, the world keeps jerking me, around….
and i can see, how things to me, could be a little askew. But I’ll promise you, if you promise me, to keep it cool.

Don’t hate no one, its stupid. Being racist is stupid. Ignorance, is stupid.
and I think so is this poem.

But I like to write, cause my name is J.WRITE, and I don’t know why.

I don’t know why, but i love my life. Cause it’s cool, to write rhymes. And it’s fun to unwind. And it’s just a 12 15 to 12 30, write up. Cause I have to go back looking for jobs. And I should just relax, and let the Beeeeeeeeeeeeat Drop!

just another jagged thought by Jason.

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Growing Up Dirty by J. WRITE

I write cause my mind has to
all the shit I’ve been through
I write cause I have to,
because I come unglued if I don’t
this isn’t rap, I’m a poet end quote.

Because,
My mind flips times like a superman bullet
I’m gonna make something from nothing,
something better then myself,
something proven.

A ferris wheel of frustration.

Each thought goes around in circles
time to take that negativity change it,
like an alchemist into gold,
make peace in my head first
until the time unfolds.
I want to be better then I am.
I want the self esteem of a real man.
I want to walk down the street people,
say “is that him
?”
“Is that the dude, who writes that magazine?
“Is that the mental graffitist, the dude who came
from nothing got over his sickness?
“Did Pinocchio finally escape from that whales mouth,
from the tyrants who sold him down the river,
to a place he couldn’t hang with?”

“Yeah dude, it’s J. WRITE!”
“Can, I get your autograph?
Can my wife get a picture with you?”
Yo, you write the illest magazine
Oddball, you killin’ it dude!”

Yeah, that’s how I want it to be…

a man of three who knows what it means.
I want the life for me and Lisa,
of what I know we deserve.
I just want to be cool
on my time on earth.

I want to be mentally chill,
while collecting dollar bills.

I want my mind to stop saying
time to take another pill.
But I’m o.k with my mental
state of mind,
its fine.

You labeled me weak
Now I walk that line.
I’m better then you.
Now, let me be free.

Let me think like a person,
not a monster, I mean who
made me like this?
Who writes rhymes like this?
Speaking signs like this?
Holding my head like this?
a rhymer
a poet
a basketcase
a player who never got to wear a jersey

a mind that deserted me,

a world that hurt me

But writing is my life
growing up dirty.

JSN WRT

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G. David Schwartz’ “Teach Your Dog Some Poetry”

Teach Your Dog Some Poetry
By: G. David Schwartz

Teach your dog some poetry
He may like it, or is she she
Read your dog some poetry
I recommend the bard
Teach them well
Then you can tell
Its not that hard
Read your pup some poems that rhyme
They may bark for a time
But they’ll get over it

© 2010 G David Schwartz

“The Pretentious Pooch” Courtesy of Rob Martin Studios © 2010 All Rights Reserved