....Adding anther from my Book of Poems & Prose......

..Page 6&7

                    State of Broke Down People.....

                  Girl appears Broken with Fear
                  and with Fright she Runs
                  from the Shadows of Death,
                  or a Boy that's maybe Dear.

                  Run the length of the Street,
                  Around the Corner to Stare
                  Look hard at your Destiny,
                  Only Hell are you to Meet.

                  A man, Still, with no Harm
                  but you're to Hate Him
                  and Run the other Way
                  to be Grabbed Fast on your Arm.
  
                  Shock taken in Despair 
                  Captured only by Feeling
                  nothing has Held You.....
                  only Falsehood is There.

                  Scamper to Hide in Corners 
                  to the Slums where alleys Prevail
                  Fall your Half lifted Body,
                  then be Swept up by no Mourners.

                  If you do Survive to Tell 
                  and Seek out your own Truth,
                  You will turn to Hate.....
                  For your last Home is Hell.
                 
...Page 8

                        Time for Living.....
      
                  Days are Hot, Long, and Stale....
                  The next might bring Rain or Hail.
                  Love, like this day differs as much...
                  You have to grab hold, just don't Touch!

                  Become aware of this as time goes on...
                  and you will live through life as easy as a Song.
                  Beware of faults in Love and Life
                  Pick the Truest for you Wife!

                  Behold, Death is yet Far....
                  So live your life the Fullest without Mar.
                  When the time for you to Pass,
                  And you believe in yourself, you will Last!


       
                             

....Posts from my Book of Poems & Prose....this one from another writer...Yevtushenko..

                        I'm adding this one as part of some other writer's that I connected with back then.....1968 >'74....
                His name is Yevtushenko, and the name of the Poem is......'Waiting'......

       My love will come, will fling open her arms and fold me in them.
         Will understand my Fears, Observe my change in from the Pouring Dark, from the Pitch Night without stopping to bang on the Taxi door.
          She'll run upstairs, through the decaying porch, burning with Love  and Love's happiness, she'll run dripping upstairs, she won't knock, will take my head in her hands, and when she drops her overcoat on a chair....it will slide to floor in a Blue Heap.....


         .....Another from that same Writer, it's titled Gentleness......

    This can't go on:
          Is after all injustice of it's kind how in what year did this come into fashion..?
          Deliberate indifference to the living, deliberate cultivation of the Dead, their shoulders slump and get Drunk sometimes, and one by one they quit; Orators at tt the Crematorium speak words of gentleness to History.
          What was it took his life from Mayakovsky?! 
          What was it put the Gun between his fingers?!
If with that voice of his, with that appearance, if ever they had offered him in life some crumbs or gentleness.
          Men live, men are trouble makers.
          Gentleness is a Posthumous Honour.....

     
               .....from pages 3&4....... 

               .....now on page 5...I will add one of mine...

                 Girl of the Damned

Be down girl of the Damned, don't rise to the wealth of it...
They will take you and your land...you need all, so take your little bit.

Hit, leave, be gone forever. Leave this Household Slum with bed.
It should be Burnt, but never... it will stay and just get lost instead.