meloostraightfromhertilt-a-world

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Coming Off Small

Counting The Long Days, Tilling The Greens

All Tarted Up

Don't Tread On Me.

why We celebrate the losers



Home, Ghuey, Sweet Home

what makes a monster (sympathy for the monster)

I Long For Stars

If This Is Any Art For Which You Care

All Beings Considered

Little Water Bug ( learning the lesson of true pain)

Hope You Enjoyed The Eclipse While It Lasted

Written For My Father Who Isn't Here To Know

And Even Stars Die

Crowded Out

I Feel Fine(r)

Make (of) Me A Snow Angel

Used to Think I Could Fix Them.

Sometimes Love Comes With Electricity

Into The Swirling Sea Of White.

Max on the max

So You Do (May 10, 2010 written for June 1987)

Boy Restored

The Light Goes On In The Attic (WeAll Have Addictons)

Life's A Candle

Malla Batsick

(A Prayer of Intercession--Brief Joy)

Love A Cat

Cuba Libre

Fragile Shell Of Morning

Disappear

A Little Bit of Harlem in Your Life

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Odd Thoughts and Juxtapositions


whenever I discover a partially full
disposable coffee drinking cup
stranded on the street

I cannot resist the urge
to tip it
over

watch the coffee form into dark
rivulets imaginary rivers rushing down
sidewalks creating miniature streams

I like to watch the directions
the randomness in which
the liquid glides and turns and pools

I think to myself
life is that way
wild and rushing
haphazard unplanned-for
accidental

I like to give homeless people something
they like to eat or drink
but I ask them first about their
preferences
and couch them within my meager budget's reasonableness

random acts of kindness seem to satisfy and please
on both ends of the spectrum
creating rainbows within and without

people feel like people again
its a kind of transformation that a little
act of giving can do
making one another feel whole again
I feel like a person and hopefully
they do once more

too often they get pushed along
treated more or less worse than curbside furniture
or like prisoners of their unfortunate circumstances
and reminded for it as daily punishment

I don't think people start out choosing
to be homeless
anymore than that cup of coffee got left
behind by the bus stop

I pick up the coffee cup after I have
kicked it over for fun

who picks up the Homeless from their
street corners beside the police...

why am I putting these two ideas together
in my head?


legal Copyright 7/21/2015 written directly to the page from thoughts on the bus
All rights are reserved by this Author Meloo/Melissa A Howells
Straight from Her Tilt-a-World

editing (perhaps) later.

 All ideas/rants/poetry/prose are the expressed LEGAL PROPERTY
OF THIS WRITER/AUTHOR.

LEGAL PROPERTY/COPYRIGHT of this WORK AND THIS SITE TITLE
BY THIS Writer/Author.





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