meloostraightfromhertilt-a-world

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Human History is Pockmarked With Tragedy

Unseen, The Lilacs And The Daffodils

Nothing's Sadder Than A Rose

A Man Of The Clouds

The Cruel In The World (Blue Bag Metaphor)



Somtimes in Surrender

Encounter Before Dawn

Shedding Your Skin

Liminality

A Smattering Of Mattering (How Do You Matter)

NEEDING /KNEADING MORE (sometimes)

WHAT WILL YOU THINK GENTLE READER, AFTER YOU'VE FINISHED READING THIS?...We Are All Star Children

Not My Season

I Will Return

Like The Wind In The Middle Of The Night

The Hoping

Better To Bend Than Be Broken (CHANGE)

Belle Du Jovan

The Hope Of All These Things Which Would Never Come In a Box

The Best Revenge (For All Your Critic's Critiques)

Informed Through Pain

All Too Clearly Now

The Birds Are Such Un-numbering Creatures of Distant Hitchcockian Past

Shrine

Silver-Tongued Devil

TONIGHT

The Factory of Resentments

Expect Yourself

They Grew (A Poem From The Imaginarium)

One Which Brings Me Unending Release

Where The Weird Actually Tried To Turn Pro

Accountants

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********

a white plastic bag rises up
to test a western wind
Amy please come home
I promise you
it'll be so much better
than it has been

a six-foot high cross rises up
to touch the clouded sky
four long years have
crept on
Jordon Williams
do you rest in peace
as the whirring trains pass by

here is a reminder
of you
fallen
by the tracks
its wooden arms reaching towards
both the east and the to the west

not much left
to remember those by
but words by the roadside
meager poems
with the traffic trampling on the book of life

oh no where do the lost go
and how quickly are they forgotten
I notice these small signs
penned and left behind
and think on
the world's lost and misbegotten

I see the debris
the orange needle tops
I see what's left of all they have
strewn across their roadside flops

so many of my neighbors now avow
NO, not in my back yard
you who have so much
but lack all understanding
of the need for a real human touch

what happened to Amy
what happened to Jordon
has happened here
in their backyard
in their downtown
on their mean streets

people die
those who may never have had a home
not when they were children
even then they were alone

my brother
could so easily have
been one of them
it could have also been me

"Hey, you who've got all the answers...
why not spew some more of your wisdom
about this pervasive misery...

you who know all that you think you know...
if the Homeless can't go home then
where are the Homeless people supposed to go...

if they can't ever
go home?"

********


legal copyright for this poem 4:41pm PST
and also for this writer Melissa A Howells
and also for this legally copyrighted site title
Meloo Straight From Her Tilt-a-World

Note: Just because you don't see it...
doesn't mean there isn't suffering.
Try a random act of kindness. Better yet
do it anonymously. You would be surprised
what good you can do for yourself and
for a random stranger.

These are REAL people memorialized by the train tracks
and the roadside. I felt they deserved to be
remembered.








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