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Hope Is Sometimes The Best Of All You've Got (definition poem)

Enough to Clear The Clouds Away 4/13/2019

Devious

Checking Out

Home, Ghuey, Sweet Home



Someone Send Out A Search Party

Crows...writing exercise in honor of April /National Poetry month

Words

Only The Choice To Be

When People Go

The Day You Left (Words From A Half-Remembered Dream)

Wake Wake Wake

It Is In The Rain

Dream Goblins Of The Night

Wake And Remember

Unwelcomed Like So Much Unfinished Business

In March (Finally, Spring 2016)

All For Algernon

Weak In The Knees

The Finisher's Song

Nothing's Sadder Than A Rose

All Beings Considered

This Is It

Max on the max

I Long For Stars

Falling Leaf, Falling Man/Woman, Rising Star

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

Its About Waking In The Middle Of The Night And Having To Write It All Down

Not For The Bloom of Tears Cultivated These Last 100 Years

If This Is Any Art For Which You Care

If I Could Be The Sky...

It Feels Better To Be Unfinished (Wish-Unspoken, But With My Eyes)

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Resentment Survivors


Attending a new 12 step group
comes highly recommended
by my Life Management Planner

well
more or less,
its mandatory attendance

Resentment Survivors...
displayed on the door
in rainbow-colored cheerful signage

I am not pleased to be here
me and my righteous indignations
have co-habitated
quite comfortably for some time

they have kept me warm
left me smoldering hot
ill will has stoked the flames to keep
my engines blasting

do I have to give up my pique
tie it up with ribbons and bows
or as the Big Book advises
wrap it up in 'serene'

instructions include:
stop holding onto my bad feelings
like a jaundiced letch
or reacting to most people as
treasonous enemies

I've been informed:
those resentments don't serve me anymore

okie-dokie

but wait

I'm an animosity addict
I'm addicted to irritation
I've an aversion to resolution
I've been nicknamed Ill Willhellmina
I feed on rancor for breakfast
I recline on a divan of hard feelings
My hands are twitchy my teeth are gnashing
I want to karate kick the moderator
My brain is screaming
"Let me out-let me out of this nut palace!"

my resentments have
become familiar companions
providing me with front-line defense
rancor is my currency
non-compliance is my trade

the accountant inside my head
keeps itemized lists
of the pleasing I did for those resentees,
those I should have never pleased, but I did
instead of pleasing me

I don't know if am born-again
that I shall be transformed from
cockroachian agnostic
into a gratefully-compressed
human experiment
full of it

yet now
the beige room is hushed
the sedated survivors perch on
Naugahyde furnishings
in midday swelter

in the room
there is a calling for a joining
and laying on of clammy hands

there is no escape
its too late to flee

I conclude:

they aim too high
to convert
a Resentment Survivor Pilgrim

so sayeth

The Pharisee

in me.




Copyright April 26 2015 All Rights Are Reserved By This Author
All Poetry/Prose/Ideas/Rants are the legal property of this Writer
Meloo/Melissa A Howells straight from her Tilt-a-World
editing ideas from Buddy Bee. Thank YOU Babe, You're Sumpin' (Wink Wink)

my attempt at humor and snark





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