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Scars Like Stars To Guide Us

What if these regrets
Were not quicksand
But stepping stones?

The up instead of down
Button in the elevator?

What if this pain
Was not collateral damage,
But the strategy
For my success?

What if these scars
Were the writing on the wall,
That spoke a better word
Than “mene, mene, tekel, parsin”?

What if I was not found lacking
But instead strong?

What if I grew stronger and stronger
Instead of weaker and weaker?

No. 17251

"Failure, the artiste manque or the mediocre politician--they experience the real death." Sigmund Freud

The REM mirror's
bent tubes synthesized
in snake pegs
of archipelagic
ice hieroglyphs;

(hear the eglantine washerwomen
call breakfast with gold spoons)

the hierophant C-flat
spilt in a tide pod
rainbow suit worn
in a night Mass’ oval paucity.

A date unrealized
and of silt gravity,
split on all sides
by holofoil wings
of indigo aeons,


your words are like a rough rope slowly wrapping around my neck,
your touch is like poison haunting my head,
your absence is a relief like balloon releasing air,
your presence is an ocean drowning me beyond repair,

your around every corner,
not a day goes by without your remark,
but i've grown stronger,

a fire has started inside me, a little spark,
an idea rung in my head,
locking you out,
and running away...


what is losing?
is it finite, infinite,
tangible, intangible
physical, metaphysical

or of something not found
as funny as spectacles on the head
thoughts, memories having no shape or sound

or those sunken feelings of
ignorance, misfortune
being a desert rose
a kid separated from mother

or that half finished coke
shared with a stranger
on the train?

don't curse, just smile
get rid of that stupid feeling
feel light, move on
put behind the lost baggage

Searching For A Conspiracy

I've heard about hidden valleys
and secret gardens
paradisal islands
and mystical mountain sanctuarys

not interested!

forbidden zones intrigue me more
the mystery of why so named
who, or what, lurks in such shadowy strangeness

the "dark web"
area 51
my neighbors locked shed

my humdrum life yearns, seeks, demands
exciting and exhilerating answers

more than likely, I'll just find disappointment

and bad judgement

Footsteps in the corridor

the scent of lavender on the dew
through cascading rolling mountains of joy
surface through the moon in the tender month of June
we have been this way before
footsteps in the corridor
out on the patio a black cat
the smell of fresh paint permeates my inner senses
traces of lime in my beer
a rip torn onto its heightened view
shadows block the vortex of the eye
shaped through the dreams in her hair my pretty child
choose the day
the night was far spent in calamity

One at a Time

Now I read books that I had been saving for later.
Books from the time when I thought I live forever
and was concerned to grow bored.

Now I know even if there is tomorrow,
even if it is a century long, it might not be enough
if I won’t stop postponing to do what I want.

The word postponing reminds me of a post office,
Bukowski I read often and like very much,
and a pony I never had but wanted at the age of five.

The Tribal Power

Fragmentation of hatred came on board
With eruption, tearing love apart
This ethnicity enclave had to be broken and chain in hell.
Pastures are not meant for your tribal city alone.
Forbidden rule regulated and pressing on continuously.

What If…

Lady Macbeth was incarcerated
Due to killing of critic belated
Lord Macbeth faced increasing scrutiny
As to removal of immunity

The Raj was active in covert stages
Republic chose a maverick leader
Spooks used BBC’s news content and images
Messages to Friends by Circus feeder

All countries held to same set of standards
Immigrants returned to their origin
Nations without brain drain progressed forwards
Apartheid states part of history's bin

For Esker

I feel like this is what my dad did
To scared of the world he Just hid
From reality cuz he couldn’t quite hack it
Escaping was always his tactic

Had a good life with a wife and a child
but was too wild
Couldn’t make it worthwhile
So he just fled
Packed his bags and walked away
So close yet far
Double rye and cokes at the bar
To numb the pain
That never really went away
For his actions and child taxes
And defense masks
No one was allowed in


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