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TOO LATE

Phone call, entirely unexpected
by tone of voice it's not a joke
toward hospital I am directed
mother's had another stroke

Throw on my shoes and rouse my wife
jump in the car, away we speed
will this be the one to end her life ?
an answer now is what I need

It's late, no lack of parking space
so we park right at the front
up the steps to door we race
to find it's not the door we want

Bleak

I often read of optimism,
of utopian enlightenment
seen through hopeful prism
of largesse and entitlement.

Sometimes I hear positive language
that speaks of strength and light
and the power of love's advantage
flooding all our futures bright.

But what I actually see,
when in clime of real life
I confront bleak reality,
is runaway unfettered strife,

and what I inevitably feel
when watching world's collapse
is that warfare will be the deal
in the wake of our care's lapse:

The Bluffster!

The Bluffster
Ruse! Now Fuse!

You caught us all with our
Bikinis down
You got your hits and kicks
And
Perhaps a few cents too

Some guy bluffed
He got 700 bucks
What bucks he didn't say.

Only newspaper and Don Articles
Get that many flies
Bees,
And
They all suck some honey
On ones finger tips
Like do fleas.

The Day My Shadow Left

One thing I've been forever admired, for
is my ability to create...

..a partnership between my body,
and my shadow, that's merely....."Great"!

I jest not, while I document
for those, who have not seen...

..for instance, like last St. Patrick's Day,
when we both arrived in green !

I've been known to mix it up
so, when I'm playing music at a "gig";

I've grown accustomed leaving my shadow at home,
because the dancing makes the patrons....."wig"!

TO A BLIND FRIEND

She's not important anymore:
Things didn't go the way that she foresaw-
See her lying on the floor
Can't hurt her more...

Words can't tell you how she feels:
She caught the wrong end of your deals-
You only need her for your thrills
And feels...

http://soundclick.com/share.cfm?id=7040858

NIGHT LIGHT

Easing down a woodland trail
long before daylight
full moon's light both gray and pale
although it's shining strong and bright

I've a flashlight in my hand
to guide my knees past tripping vines
in a monochromatic land
while I daydream of ivory tines

Trying to quieten gimpy stride
so woodland creatures I don't disturb
( still hear their scurries as they hide )
in their pre-twilight suburb

WILDERNESS

Unforgiving tides rush in across
my virtue the crest of the wave
bears down in unrelenting
fashion, testing me.

Clinging to the tapestry of my
being as you fear not the testimony
of any bible that fails to hold
justification in others presence.

Squinting your slanted eyes, your
version trimmed to suit my belief
in it minute, self-confidence was just
a word just something I would observe.

Regression

.
I dream the caveman that dwells within
doth triumph over
my soft and genteel nature

dumb and dull
grunting and groaning my voice
stuffing slim pickings into a yawing mouth
over a pool of dirty droppings

MØLEN STONES

"MØLEN STONES"
Margaret Ann Waddicor November 14th 2010.
Inspired by Terje Gröstad's wood cut of the stones
by the sea: "Rullestein." (Stones transported by glacial
erosion, most often round, hence rolled stones!)

Like a sleeping snake
the sea its wake a foam
so quietly souphs on beach and stone,
to suck them give them sheen
to shine again from out the memories
of time's still stance for them.

Reflective Conversation...

Who's there?
I don't know
Why not?

Who are you?
I'm you
No, you're not

Look close
I see me
Do you?

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