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    A Song to Myself

    A Song To Myself           “just let it be, let it go              why don’t you be you               and I’ll be me….”  James Bay     A December moon rose with bitterness, a sea...

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    • This is so beautiful. You still write to her.

      • Yes, I still write. When we first met back in college, I began writing her love poems. One of her girlfriends asked me if I would always write her poetry and I told her and the woman I would marry, “I will always write you poetry”. But I stopped, “life” was my excuse. We did not last (5 years total), not because of the poetry, but we began to see life differently and she got a boyfriend instead of us trying to fix things. But, always writing her poetry became a metaphor for my mistakes in our relationship, the things that I did wrong and contributed to our splitting up. I was more the “typical man” and had to learn the hard way to consciously give that shit up. I have believed that it has been this learning process about patriarchy that has made me more humane and a better human being. So yes, I still write her poetry because I never want to forget and want to continue seeing women with mutual respect and equality, as full human beings. Thank you Fia for reading and your kind words.

  • Nativity of Loss
    (I will always love you, my heart.)

    I read a poem that evoked a tear
    a single, trembling drop
    that spun me backward,
    into shadows of what was
    and the ever-present numbness
    of could-have-beens.

    25 days to go…
    The air tastes different now,
    heavier with memory,
    as the earth tilts toward the same cold light
    year a…Read More

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  • MaryJane’s Last Dance

    It was day 23 of Poetry Month
    when you walked through the door,
    And I said,
    “Oh my, my. Oh hell yes”
    as my eyes landed on
    that party dress;
    thigh high red with
    a side slit stare, and
    I was pulled into your sway.
    MaryJane delights
    played in my mind,
    like how smoke and fog
    swirled in kaleidoscope air,
    and we be…Read More

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    Al Ashcott
    @al-ashcott
  • Hell

    Deep down in the fiery pits of hell,
    war has started, if you couldn’t tell.
    The burning souls are screaming,
    the demons’ eyes are gleaming,
    they kneel down before the devil’s throne.

    He’s the one of power, giving the commands,
    for each he has the devious of plans.
    The red-hot flames are prancing,
    as the devil starts dancing…Read More

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