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Nomad soul

The nomad soul, now quiet, settles down,
Hard fingers soft caressing coloured cloths,
Evoking bustle in an ancient town,
Where hawked were products of peculiar moths. 81 more words


Mr. X's Poetry: Rewards of Suffering

What wealth mayth find itself in pride fulfill’d

Where minds themselves canth see no purpose will’d?

The body wracks in soreness torn within;

The spirit dies from filth agrieved and black; 87 more words


Shout Out

When the whispers that were once anthems all die out,
now that the madness at the fringe is institutionalized,
will we drown in private penance? Will we shout? 91 more words

Poems By Alan Reynolds

sonnets '17 Preface

The year two seventeen has now begun

With hope and dreams and hate and dumb en masse

Now those who seek for love and peace and fun… 83 more words

Tom Shaker

Sonnets 17 (#1)

Global Group Resistance Hug

In ‘17 America begat

A choice few thought would “will” or even “might”

Ushering in a narcissistic rat

With Fascist Flare and homage to Alt Right… 66 more words

Tom Shaker

Mr. X's Poetry: Humor in Hell

Beds and fire are lyres to liars so dire

Where black holes are red Hells that never tire.

The spine of blood is bitterness to bones… 91 more words


The Only Explanation For The Overwhelming Debt Of The Unjust Servant

I had been pondering Jesus’ account of the unjust servant, who ended up owing his master more money than he could ever repay in several lifetimes. 237 more words