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Circle In The Sky

solution bing noise pollution,
reckless booty cow wrench doing
melody creating from thee
the crusty cheese
the sliver will cease
below the bass across the land of no mistake
got it in the new place to shine
one web will climb
out of a blizzard squeeze

change with the willow all apart at the sky
a humble lulabye
the mark of the circle in the sky,
cherish the wind

words

As a projectile on its trajectory
the very kernel of a heart’s story
unfurls and beckons to those who care
allows for both sides, their minds declare
each line, each verse, each accentuated pause
all bring together, joint longing; their inimitable cause

A Poem is Metaphor

rational thought
a geometry of flatulence
a poem is metaphor

I can kill you in a poem
and walk away scot free
so bend over
I got a gun in your ass
ready aim bang
I love you

Is God Every-Where!

God Is Every
It's a lovely prayer
when man is in despair
towards heaven
we look up

coz we were told
God lives there

I have
many times gone in planes to see
WHERE GOD LIVES

but he is clever than all of us
clouds burst
and
all human searchers disburse

Great image of God
I still feel
He lives
within ye and me

All poets here
do believe in me

Step-drama

I feel the cave in
The sudden shift under proverbial foot
When all the hard learned lessons
& the calm wisdom, goodwill & resilience I built up as my “self”
(“Who am I?”)
give way, & I tumble, flailing
into the seething abyss of past hurt, loss
& sense of being wronged
Without forewarning
without defense
or ANY kind of sensibility
Overwhelm pours into every cell
I could ‘pop’ …at any contact
the tears & snot & toddler wailing burgeoning under tight red skin

Step-drama

I feel the cave in
The sudden shift under proverbial foot
When all the hard learned lessons
& the calm wisdom, goodwill & resilience I built up as my “self”
(“Who am I?”)
give way, & I tumble, flailing
into the seething abyss of past hurt, loss
& sense of being wronged
Without forewarning
without defense
or ANY kind of sensibility
Overwhelm pours into every cell
I could ‘pop’ …at any contact
the tears & snot & toddler wailing burgeoning under tight red skin

Ghost of Michelangelo

She looked down upon her shaking palm
There were three more tubes of oil
And fell the old wood tool box
That was set open on her table

And she prayed that one more time
With some help she could get it done
Then an angel took her fingers
Helped her choose the deep blue one

It was Michael of the Angels
He would see it all get done
It was Michael of the Angels
That would turn it into fun

Summer Moon

When is it the heart’s time
to move on?
As soon as the rusty wheel
collapses in knee-high grass.
Words mean nothing
to this fractured reflection.
I’m a long way
from home,
a long way
from you,
and with the eclipse
I fall out of touch.

Therapuetic Race Horse Bing

sauce and tier left alone to rot
fresh under the cot a hero sought
under the pillow of a least hold of
shadows bridge the gap between the smart ass
onto an impulse with words unsung
unheard of the rest sweat tears at the test
spring from nothing left you swinging untold
mark the willingness to appear
paper steak comparment to ring
there they are off number 2 at test
the cutting edge at left
there in the distance the end was best

WHEN WE WERE ALIVE

Between the western hills a glaring eye peered
Leaving a shimmer that lit the golden seas
Between those coconut trees our castle stood
As ignorant as childhood, we honed the world.

Here gigantic ambitions took baby steps
Just like roses, we watched our pollen dreams bloom
In sacred embrace, mushrooms grew in our hearts
True love left her footprints upon the sands of time.

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