On Thursday, November 3, 2022 at 10:50:18 AM UTC-4, michaelmalef...@gmail.com wrote:
> Start Posting!

Night of Doubt

It's never a free ride
but the moon knows that,
looking down on the tears
and the smiles and the bombs
and the babies,
turning its dark side
to the homeless and hungry
and needle existence.
 
So we scratch 
at the loneliness,
pamper the bigot,
turn a blind eye
to the abuse of flesh and blood,
enjoy the meatloaf entree,
looking for that slice of pie
in the sky
and green lawns
but we also know,
something the moon might forget,
we're not alone
in the fight,
sharing a touch and kiss
a forgotten moment
of what it's all about
in the end.
 
So yes, everybody feels the hurt
at times
and sometimes we love and laugh
but it's part of the fabric
and if you doubt that today,
look up at the moon tonight
where one billion, billion eyes have looked
and survived,
just when they thought
they couldn't.

Edward Rochester Esq.

On Friday, November 11, 2022 at 9:45:46 AM UTC-5, Edward Rochester Esq. wrote:
> On Thursday, November 3, 2022 at 10:50:18 AM UTC-4, michaelmalef...@gmail.com wrote:
> > Start Posting!
> Night of Doubt
>
> It's never a free ride
> but the moon knows that,
> looking down on the tears
> and the smiles and the bombs
> and the babies,
> turning its dark side
> to the homeless and hungry
> and needle existence.
>
> So we scratch
> at the loneliness,
> pamper the bigot,
> turn a blind eye
> to the abuse of flesh and blood,
> enjoy the meatloaf entree,
> looking for that slice of pie
> in the sky
> and green lawns
> but we also know,
> something the moon might forget,
> we're not alone
> in the fight,
> sharing a touch and kiss
> a forgotten moment
> of what it's all about
> in the end.
>
> So yes, everybody feels the hurt
> at times
> and sometimes we love and laugh
> but it's part of the fabric
> and if you doubt that today,
> look up at the moon tonight
> where one billion, billion eyes have looked
> and survived,
> just when they thought
> they couldn't.
>
> Edward Rochester Esq.
----------------------------------------------

Three Billion on a Match

There are too many gods,
too many fashions, too many menu's
too many cars by too many car makers
too many vegetables, too many languages,
too many pills, too many excuses,
too many guns, too many knives
too many positions, too many rules,
too many hairstyles, too many murders,
too many divorces, too many homeless,
too many politicians, too many cerials,
too many authors, too many movies,
too many artists, too many wife beaters,
too many flies, too many crying kids
too many fools that think unification
and agreement is posssible under the best
of circumstance inside this simple world
of too many complex thoughts,
wired to run smoothly or short circuit
all into darkness at the drop of
too many hats.

Edward Rochester Esq.

On Friday, November 11, 2022 at 9:50:53 AM UTC-5, Edward Rochester Esq. wrote:
> On Friday, November 11, 2022 at 9:45:46 AM UTC-5, Edward Rochester Esq. wrote:
> > On Thursday, November 3, 2022 at 10:50:18 AM UTC-4, michaelmalef...@gmail.com wrote:
> > > Start Posting!

> > Night of Doubt
> >
> > It's never a free ride
> > but the moon knows that,
> > looking down on the tears
> > and the smiles and the bombs
> > and the babies,
> > turning its dark side
> > to the homeless and hungry
> > and needle existence.
> >
> > So, we scratch
> > at the loneliness,
> > pamper the bigot,
> > turn a blind eye
> > to the abuse of flesh and blood,
> > enjoy the meatloaf entree,
> > looking for that slice of pie
> > in the sky
> > and green lawns
> > but we also know,
> > something the moon might forget,
> > we're not alone
> > in the fight,
> > sharing a touch and kiss
> > a forgotten moment
> > of what it's all about
> > in the end.
> >
> > So yes, everybody feels the hurt
> > at times
> > and sometimes we love and laugh
> > but it's part of the fabric
> > and if you doubt that today,
> > look up at the moon tonight
> > where one billion, billion eyes have looked
> > and survived,
> > just when they thought
> > they couldn't.
> >
> > Edward Rochester Esq.
> ----------------------------------------------
>
> Three Billion on a Match
>
> There are too many gods,
> too many fashions, too many menu's
> too many cars by too many car makers
> too many vegetables, too many languages,
> too many pills, too many excuses,
> too many guns, too many knives
> too many positions, too many rules,
> too many hairstyles, too many murders,
> too many divorces, too many homeless,
> too many politicians, too many cereals,
> too many authors, too many movies,
> too many artists, too many wife beaters,
> too many flies, too many crying kids
> too many fools that think unification
> and agreement is possible under the best
> of circumstance inside this simple world
> of too many complex thoughts,
> wired to run smoothly or short circuit
> all into darkness at the drop of
> too many hats.
>
> Edward Rochester Esq.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Reasonable Doubt

As day turns dark, thoughts of murder enter my mind,
well placed bullets into ignorance, the nod
of simultaneous agreement
as if tethered to strings as puppets.

No names, mind you, court records will not show premeditation,
as ‘innocent’ is shouted out from black robes of sanity…
but alas, I don’t have enough ammunition to rid all, just imagination
which I am allowed under the Constitution.

Just thoughts, mind you, as a commercial runs
on Duck Dynasty, a place where I gather insight,
and the courage
that fuels capitol offense thoughts.

Edward Rochester Esq.

On Thursday, November 3, 2022 at 10:50:18 AM UTC-4, michaelmalef...@gmail.com wrote:
> Start Posting!

Reasonable Doubt

As day turns dark, thoughts of murder enter my mind,
well placed bullets into ignorance, the nod
of simultaneous agreement
as if tethered to strings as puppets.

No names, mind you, court records will not show premeditation,
as ‘innocent’ is shouted out from black robes of sanity…
but alas, I don’t have enough ammunition to rid all, just imagination
which I am allowed under the Constitution.

Just thoughts, mind you, as a commercial runs
on Duck Dynasty, a place where I gather insight,
and the courage
that fuels capitol offense thoughts.

Edward Rochester Esq.

Albatross

The crucifixion of an albatross,
the Pentecost hanging there,
on Easter. Lost and always
on everybody’s mind.
I do not know who you are:
inflicting the ingenuity of change,
rattling the ruins, the chains
of your pleasure suffering
the annihilation of history.
So that no one becomes new
and too accustomed
to loving.

Some, starved with reasoning,
target innocence.
Some conquer only the thinnest layer
of themselves.
Some pretend, to gods,
to cut it off.
Some try making love
to the devil, claiming high ideals.
Some give up on looking and exist
in flags.
Some hide beneath their struggles,
denying peace.
Some loose the beast that dwells
inside of guilt.
Some find it in a knife,
a needle.
Some wrap themselves in facts,
but it’s not that easy.

Qui diceris Paraclitus,
altissimi donum Dei,
fons vivus, ignis, caritas
et spiritalis unctio.

The morning paper promises
the end of time,
but I can’t remember living.

God must get tired of dreaming
about ordinary livesand listening
to what is left of the weather.
Breaking in--killing–religiously--
cell by cell, block by solitary
block,wondering what is left,
who lived, who died.
The heart is scraping by:
always beating.

On Friday, November 11, 2022 at 9:59:20 AM UTC-5, Edward Rochester Esq. wrote:
> On Thursday, November 3, 2022 at 10:50:18 AM UTC-4, michaelmalef...@gmail..com wrote:
> > Start Posting!
> Reasonable Doubt
>
> As day turns dark, thoughts of murder enter my mind,
> well placed bullets into ignorance, the nod
> of simultaneous agreement
> as if tethered to strings as puppets.
>
> No names, mind you, court records will not show premeditation,
> as ‘innocent’ is shouted out from black robes of sanity…
> but alas, I don’t have enough ammunition to rid all, just imagination
> which I am allowed under the Constitution.
>
> Just thoughts, mind you, as a commercial runs
> on Duck Dynasty, a place where I gather insight,
> and the courage
> that fuels capitol offense thoughts.
>
> Edward Rochester Esq.

A Toast

I toast the armchair
where you sat laughing,
reading that book we found
in a garage sale
and I pour another
scanning the bookshelf
for the title
but it seems you took that
with you
when the ultimatum
of "me or the booze"
fell short of expectations.
 
I toast that azalea
outside the window;
you planted that, my gift
to ease confrontation
though it too withers
without your touch
as I watch the doorknob
for any sign of turning
but darkness comes,
setting last on the door
where I carried you across
the threshold
to my oblivion.

Edward Rochester Esq.

Don't Go So Boldly

There's a Heaven in the Aether
Where they say we'll live forever
But to the ground below
We're interned to go
While to glorious Gods above
we pray for Divine love
But to the Fallen Beast below
for our other desires we go.
~~Ash Wurthing

On Saturday, 12 November 2022 at 09:15:22 UTC-5, Ash Wurthing wrote:
> Don't Go So Boldly
>
> There's a Heaven in the Aether
> Where they say we'll live forever
> But to the ground below
> We're interned to go
> While to glorious Gods above
> we pray for Divine love
> But to the Fallen Beast below
> for our other desires we go.
> ~~Ash Wurthing

On Sunday, November 13, 2022 at 5:01:43 AM UTC-5, ME wrote:
> On Saturday, 12 November 2022 at 09:15:22 UTC-5, Ash Wurthing wrote:
> > Don't Go So Boldly
> >
> > There's a Heaven in the Aether
> > Where they say we'll live forever
> > But to the ground below
> > We're interned to go
> > While to glorious Gods above
> > we pray for Divine love
> > But to the Fallen Beast below
> > for our other desires we go.
> > ~~Ash Wurthing

Plonk.

On Saturday, 12 November 2022 at 09:15:22 UTC-5, Ash Wurthing wrote:
> Don't Go So Boldly
>
> There's a Heaven in the Aether
> Where they say we'll live forever
> But to the ground below
> We're interned to go
> While to glorious Gods above
> we pray for Divine love
> But to the Fallen Beast below
> for our other desires we go.
> ~~Ash Wurthing

On Sunday, November 13, 2022 at 9:21:41 AM UTC-5, ME wrote:
> On Saturday, 12 November 2022 at 09:15:22 UTC-5, Ash Wurthing wrote:
> > Don't Go So Boldly
> >
> > There's a Heaven in the Aether
> > Where they say we'll live forever
> > But to the ground below
> > We're interned to go
> > While to glorious Gods above
> > we pray for Divine love
> > But to the Fallen Beast below
> > for our other desires we go.
> > ~~Ash Wurthing

Wham Bam. Thank you, ma’am.
https://youtu.be/rbSY2Yx85Gk

In the Wastes of Autumn Waning
I commune with the dead
Yes, I know it's all just in my head
Upon the chill wind, memories whisper my name,
to let it go, abandon the saddened game
And it rained on my dying day,
washed all my worldly worries away
Lulled me mercifully away
from those that hopelessly prayed
~~Ash Wurthing

On Saturday, 12 November 2022 at 08:38:17 UTC-5, Robert Burrows wrote:
> Albatross
>
>
> The crucifixion of an albatross,
> the Pentecost hanging there,
> on Easter. Lost and always
> on everybody’s mind.
> I do not know who you are:
> inflicting the ingenuity of change,
> rattling the ruins, the chains
> of your pleasure suffering
> the annihilation of history.
> So that no one becomes new
> and too accustomed
> to loving.
>
> Some, starved with reasoning,
> target innocence.
> Some conquer only the thinnest layer
> of themselves.
> Some pretend, to gods,
> to cut it off.
> Some try making love
> to the devil, claiming high ideals.
> Some give up on looking and exist
> in flags.
> Some hide beneath their struggles,
> denying peace.
> Some loose the beast that dwells
> inside of guilt.
> Some find it in a knife,
> a needle.
> Some wrap themselves in facts,
> but it’s not that easy.
>
> Qui diceris Paraclitus,
> altissimi donum Dei,
> fons vivus, ignis, caritas
> et spiritalis unctio.
>
> The morning paper promises
> the end of time,
> but I can’t remember living.
>
> God must get tired of dreaming
> about ordinary livesand listening
> to what is left of the weather.
> Breaking in--killing–religiously--
> cell by cell, block by solitary
> block,wondering what is left,
> who lived, who died.
> The heart is scraping by:
> always beating.

I haven’t had
very much
luck.

I couldn’t get
very much
done,

and didn’t do
very much
work.

On Thursday, November 3, 2022 at 10:50:18 AM UTC-4, michaelmalef...@gmail.com wrote:
> Start Posting!

Nurse Jones

It has all become twisted --
Cyber Space birthing
one million Hitler’s
all huddled in their bunkers
where hate can fester
into carnage
with a simple text and send
and over at the hospital
she asked if I’m under stress
considering my blood pressure
numbers
and I tell her it was a lot easier
when an Eldorado’s shine and drive-in’s
were the main concern
and she looked at me as if I had
too many Johnnie Walkers,
not getting my silly response
then asking if I had brought
my insurance card
and I tell her
I never leave home without it,
finally detecting a small grin
on that starched nurse face
or quite possibly, she just had a bit of gas.

Edward Rochester Esq.

On Monday, 14 November 2022 at 07:51:17 UTC-5, blackpo...@aol.com wrote:
> On Thursday, November 3, 2022 at 10:50:18 AM UTC-4, michaelmalef...@gmail..com wrote:
> > Start Posting!
> Nurse Jones
>
> It has all become twisted --
> Cyber Space birthing
> one million Hitler’s
> all huddled in their bunkers
> where hate can fester
> into carnage
> with a simple text and send
> and over at the hospital
> she asked if I’m under stress
> considering my blood pressure
> numbers
> and I tell her it was a lot easier
> when an Eldorado’s shine and drive-in’s
> were the main concern
> and she looked at me as if I had
> too many Johnnie Walkers,
> not getting my silly response
> then asking if I had brought
> my insurance card
> and I tell her
> I never leave home without it,
> finally detecting a small grin
> on that starched nurse face
> or quite possibly, she just had a bit of gas.
>
> Edward Rochester Esq.

On Sunday, 13 November 2022 at 11:45:46 UTC-5, Ash Wurthing wrote:
> In the Wastes of Autumn Waning
> I commune with the dead
> Yes, I know it's all just in my head
> Upon the chill wind, memories whisper my name,
> to let it go, abandon the saddened game
> And it rained on my dying day,
> washed all my worldly worries away
> Lulled me mercifully away
> from those that hopelessly prayed
> ~~Ash Wurthing

On Friday, November 18, 2022 at 6:28:23 AM UTC-5, ME wrote:
> On Sunday, 13 November 2022 at 11:45:46 UTC-5, Ash Wurthing wrote:
> > In the Wastes of Autumn Waning
> > I commune with the dead
> > Yes, I know it's all just in my head
> > Upon the chill wind, memories whisper my name,
> > to let it go, abandon the saddened game
> > And it rained on my dying day,
> > washed all my worldly worries away
> > Lulled me mercifully away
> > from those that hopelessly prayed
> > ~~Ash Wurthing

If it’s not around the house, it’s just around the corner.

On Thursday, November 3, 2022 at 10:50:18 AM UTC-4, michaelmalef...@gmail.com wrote:
> Start Posting!

Into the Black
by Edward Rochester Esq.

I practice being dead;
for seven decades I've closed my eyes
bringing on the black.

At times a dream
brings a rapid eye movement,
some odd twisted movie, awakens
but the flicker remans out of focus
though the black of sleep
remains and except for heartbeat,
I'm dead.

When the black becomes permanent,
the alarm clock silent and startles
only the day, I'm well prepared,
I'm not afraid of the dark considering
one third of my life has been
in training.

It Changes
by NancyGene

It changes
Yesterday’s laughter into today’s anguish

It arranges
Sunlight becomes the shadows of a night

It changes his
All consuming love to apathy that you’re still here

It exchanges
Youthful ebullience and joy for old men in chairs

It interchanges
Kisses in the afternoon for arguments in the dark

It rearranges
Everything if you stop for a moment

On Thursday, November 3, 2022 at 10:50:18 AM UTC-4, michaelmalef...@gmail.com wrote:
> Start Posting!

King Kong
 
Over by 5th and 34th
just below the Empire State Building,
Santa rang his bell
as I dropped a five into his red bucket.
 
"Break time", Santa said
pulling his beard to the side,
lighting up a smoke.
 
"You know King Kong climbed this thing,
had that girl he loved right in the palm of his hand --
those planes got him."
 
I looked down at his tote bag
looking for a bottle of whiskey.
 
Had to be one.
 
"I had a girl once, she ran off,
no climb, no planes, just gone.”
 
He was old, this make-believe Santa,
needing to talk, needing someone to listen.
 
"You know, I worked in this building,
up on the twenty second floor, as an accountant
and kept a picture of Kong over the desk, an idol in a way,
his struggle against captors, his escape,
his demise."
 
"You retired?"
 
"Let go, replaced by the machine.
I would rather have escaped,
climbed this building, being shot down by
a police copter. Kong,
I wanted to be Kong."
 
"Well now you're Santa."
 
"Only at Christmas, did I tell you I had a girl once?"
 
He looked at his wrist.
 
"Break over, they watch you know, 
see if you're doing your job."
 
He snapped that beard in place
and rang the bell.
 
"Merry Christmas", he yelled out
to those in a hurry, "Merry Christmas."
 
I heard that bell ring blocks away
and thought of that Kong wanna be, the girl he had once,
right there in the palm of his hand.

Edward Rochester Esq.

On Thursday, November 3, 2022 at 10:50:18 AM UTC-4, michaelmalef...@gmail.com wrote:
> Start Posting!

Broken Down

She was drowning
you could tell, sitting inside
the laundromat.

She could have been twenty-five
or fifty, the weather
had removed all time.

"My mom is in the car, we can't start it
and she wants to know if you could help --
she saw you throw the window."

Mom was in the back seat and handed me the key.

Her daughter climed into the front, the stink of cigarettes,
overpowered, the daughter never looked me
in the face, she seemed broken, thin, in need
of more than clothes cleaned.

The key was bent, I explaned, seemed forced.

I tired to bend it back with pliers, no Luck.

"I'll call my husband", the daughter said,
but it seemed like the last person
they both thought of but he had the spare key.

Mom thanked me for trying
and I made it back inside in time
for the last minute of dryer time.

This morning, her car remained where last left,
looking cold and sad.

Edward Rochester Esq.

On Friday, 18 November 2022 at 08:01:02 UTC-5, NancyGene wrote:
> It Changes
> by NancyGene
>
> It changes
> Yesterday’s laughter into today’s anguish
>
> It arranges
> Sunlight becomes the shadows of a night
>
> It changes his
> All consuming love to apathy that you’re still here
>
> It exchanges
> Youthful ebullience and joy for old men in chairs
>
> It interchanges
> Kisses in the afternoon for arguments in the dark
>
> It rearranges
> Everything if you stop for a moment

The Happy Whore
by NancyGene

I have years of experience doing my job,
touched many people, don’t know their names.
Sometimes it’s cold outside but I keep moving.
Inside is warmer but can get real rough.
Is he the one who will kill me?

I had a movie star client once.
He was nice to me until he was finished,
then he sent his assistant to tell me to get out.
That made me feel bad when I was feeling good.
I don’t go to his movies anymore.

Sometimes I meet musicians on their way up.
They’re going up while I’m on the way down.
The guys are drunk and high so I get my money first.
Maybe they’ll fall in love with me?
No, I’m just a whore and a throw-away.

All the men think that I’m enjoying myself,
since I’m a good actress in moans and groans.
Kissing is for my ass, and I’m scared of Covid.
Too much bad is out there for me in the dark--
men in wolves’ pelts with a taste for women.

I lost my self-respect in a car that wasn’t even clean;
I can show you some of the scars that healed.
It’s not healthy to think too much about what I do,
since how many people really like their profession?
My retirement plan is to die, a Jane Doe in the news.

On Thursday, November 3, 2022 at 10:50:18 AM UTC-4, michaelmalef...@gmail.com wrote:
> Start Posting!

Excuse me for thinking of AYoS as a group vanity project
of no commercial value that is neither your, nor any of its
contributors best work. You can do better than this, people.