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Charles Monroe
Charles Monroe Los Angeles / United States, 32
Profession :
Education :
Knights of Montezuma
1 Points

About Me : I am. That is all. I enter this realm In Peace and Humility With Wars under me. With Quills or with Pens Or Keystrokes the same Evoking the Spirits Who wilt me by ... more »

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Charles Monroe's last comments on poems and poets

  • POEM: Behind Closed Doors by Electric Lady (7/21/2014 1:51:00 AM)

    Inspiring. Quite electric, lady.

    Reminds me of tasteless nights
    Feeding Monstrous appetites
    Sweaty foreheads joined careless
    In the dark of mo-mo AC
    The scent of Cigarette and intercourse
    Never quite leave any room once they've been in it.
    Bible in counter seems uncalled for
    And color t.v. and HBO with international breakfast
    is for tourists; not us.
    We've been here many times before
    Same perfume different room
    Same mood, hot maroon
    light food and mixed drinks
    bag of ice in sink
    like you and I.
    It seems we've made it,
    mated, to checkout time;
    and still indisposed.
    No coffee maker if its
    Fifty bucks a night
    But there is no price
    When You and I can
    afford to spend time
    Behind the closed door
    of room 104.

  • POEM: Fragile Toys by Amitava Sur (7/20/2014 1:27:00 PM)

    War toys with kung-fu grips
    And elongated metal clips
    Fancy toys that break with time
    Are not made for girls and boys
    Who destroys us fragile toys.

  • POEM: Dropping This Heat by Connor Whyte (7/20/2014 12:34:00 PM)

    Nice. Here is a different take on the same term.

    To Hold the Heat
    A responsibility I've been cursed to keep
    Since all my big homeys are parolees
    On probation or known felons
    And I have no police record yet
    And am only thirteen
    I am expected by my fellow gang members
    To forever hold the heat.
    And I hold it like its golden
    Like our lives depended on it.
    And I hold it like it’s stolen
    Like there's countless murders on it.
    And I hold it locked and loaded
    Cocked and potent and concealed.
    Even though it’s very presence
    Will add decades to my sentence
    I must carry heat and hold it
    From the buckle to the scrotum
    Hoping none of us will lose it
    And I won’t be forced to use it
    Banging louder than the music
    Like a drum-roll off the snare
    Either wired or acoustic;
    Hope nobody likes to stare.
    Hope our enemies don’t show,
    I pretend to play the part
    Of a fool who doesn’t mind
    Putting led through someone’s heart.
    And I smile amongst the gangsters
    In my dark blue baggy jeans
    I’m the designated shooter
    And I barely turned thirteen;
    I been cursed to hold the heat.

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