• The Train Kept A Rollin

    A teenage girl somewhere anywhere was busy text messaging friends on her cell phone a month ago.She was walking along a set of railroad tracks.Although deaf since birth, she had frequently proclaimed that she could avoid danger more easily...

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    Resist Being Blind

    Four walls, padded confinement loud music bouncing hard Fueled by teenage angst along candle lit passages Shadows occupy every corner residual beasts traveling Feasting on innocent vibes until they consume the room   Tending to my spiritual garden watering this depressing weed The fruits are rotting fast rooted in mindless envy Unable...

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    • Right on, man. Such an inspiring write! Addiction is very much like a ghost, haunting each moment of our lives. I am so happy you were able to push through and maintain. If you ever had any doubt, this poem is proof, that you absolutely do not need alcohol to conjure beauty and meaning on the page.

      The last two lines in the third octet scream truth in my mind. Very, very wise.

      Clay

      • Thanks so much for reading and your kind words, Clay. So glad you connected with the write my friend. I’ve found out I never needed alcohol to write, it was the addiction that had planted that seed of doubt in my head. It is a ghost always lurking in the shadows, though I’ve always seen it as a personal demon waiting to pounce. Appreciate you.

        Damian

    • Stay true to yourself and keep on pushing forward. Rock on dude!! Great piece of poetry

    • I love the honesty in this. What a purge of the soul amigo!
      This has so much in it. It had its own evolution.
      Just terrific!

      • Thanks so much for reading and your kind words, Adel. So glad you connected with the write my friend. It means a lot to me. Appreciate you.

        Damian

    • That’s poetry for ya folks .. Bloomin brill my friend .. Neville 😎👍

    • “My pen became a sword
      poetry served as pseudo armor”

      Amazing how many of us are among this army. Accepting help is so hard. Especially if you’ve rarely been offered a hand. And we’re all kinda programmed to ‘suck it up’…like being human is a weakness. Stripped raw & flushing the wounds here, brutal honesty at its finest, my friend

      • Thanks so much for reading and your kind words, Willow. So glad you connected with the write my friend. Love those lines as well. We are programmed that way, and it makes it difficult to rewire the mind. It’s still a work in progress, but it gets a little easier each passing day. Always enjoy your commentary my friend. Appreciate you.

        Damian

    • This poem is raw, honest, and deeply moving. Knowing you wrote it just months into your sobriety makes it even more powerful –your pen becomes both sword and shield, guiding you from darkness to hope. A beautiful testament to resilience and the strength of new beginnings.

      • Thanks so much for reading and your kind words, Roma. So glad you connected with the write my friend. It was cold turkey, and past overdue. Although it was my fourth attempt at getting sober, the third time was not a charm. lol. Thank you for your continued support, and wonderful commentary. Appreciate you.

        Damian

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    Watching Humans Play

    Sometimes the meaning gets lost in translation  Signals are crossed in memories that seem jaded Plastic people are always asking for motivation  Until all the fascination slowly leaves one sedated   Observation is an art form that must be mastered A tactic to study humanity...

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    • “Observation is an art form that must be mastered.” I love the contempt you pour on the system, from the “Marshmallow figures” bowing to a “corporate bastard,” to the reality of censored voices. The final, detached image of “Strumming an old guitar while watching humans play” is the perfect, chilling exit from the chaos. Brilliant and perceptive.

      • Thanks so much for reading and your kind words, Roma. So glad you connected with the write my friend. I do have a lot of contempt for the system. lol. You picked some of my favorite lines as well. Glad you dig the ending, thanks for your wonderful commentary and continued support my friend. Appreciate you.

        Damian

    • I read this in a minor key….
      Great work.

      • Thanks so much for reading and your kind words, Peter. So glad you connected with the write my friend. Most of my writes are in minor keys. Usually D minor. lol. Appreciate you.

        Damian

    • Art is an art. It takes a good eye and connection to emotions. But some treat it as a product. Like Lionel Richie said ‘there are creative artists and created artists’.

      Great ink friend

      • Thanks so much for reading and your kind words, Nick. So glad you connected with the write my friend. Great quote from, Mr. Richie. And it completely true in my opinion. Appreciate you.

        Damian

    • Preach it, in rhymes! Well delivered in a poetic voice that stays to the front of our brains. awesome words Damian.

    • I hear you on this one, Damian. Nice work.

    • Brilliant imagery. Excellent.

    • The games people play are often cruel and thoughtless, and more often they don’t even give their own opinion. Like marionettes, they do and repeat what others tell them. We all should begin to be more authentic and have meaningful and responsible conversations for the sake of all persons involved.
      A brilliant socially critical poem, dear Damian!

      • Thanks so much for reading and your kind words, Elke. So glad you connected with the write my friend. I completely agree with you, communication is critical. Appreciate you.

        Damian

    • Well thought out and well executed. Marvelous write Damian.

    • I think most poets, indeed most writers in general are people watchers at heart .. You just nailed us with this one sir .,. Write on brother .. Neville 😎👍

      • Thanks so much for reading and your kind words, Neville. So glad you connected with the write my friend. I concur with that assessment, we are watchers indeed. Appreciate you.

        Damian

    • Please tell me this one might have a place on the album. This is what’s called a hole in one! Makes me think about how much chaos is visible of what “they’re” doing. It’s like the iceberg. What aren’t we meant to see? That’s the shit that keeps me up nights. Eyes on honesty, as always, my friend

      • Thanks so much for reading and your kind words, Willow. So glad you connected with the write my friend. Actually, I hadn’t considered this one. But maybe I need to take a closer look. Always a pleasure reading your commentary. Appreciate you.

        Damian

    • “Plastic people are always asking for motivation” I like the message on this, as if some folks seek validation from others to feed ego. I’ve always thought the initial motivation should be intrinsic so as to have a solid foundation in our true worth. Maybe social media has watered down much of that.
      Amazing work.

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    Cipher wrote a new post

    Ohm of Home

    Coming to terms with the self, in ways unique to the self days over days. Seekers seek the self. Stealth in a wealth of shadows. The mist of this hallucinatory height Is made of: Mountain. This pen a font of Fountain. Chips pushed forward lips speaking onward to the seeking: Stalwart Poet. You fuckin know it. World I Set on Fire ***Cipher Poems***

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    Damian DeadLove
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