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I could not fit
inside the mould

so I fell down

only the blind could see me
only the deaf could hear me
the mute were happy to say my name

It mattered aught to them

my round was square
my front was back
my right was left
my quiet was loud
my up was down
my insides were out

we all coloured outside the lines

Editing stage: 


matters not what is worth
wealth stablility
mothers and fathers

the love of the trick
that subdues the soul
opens the labyrnth to
wander in seeing
corners and turns
as freedom

colouring outside the lines
rebelling against authority
rejection to respect

so much is said and more

still I am amazed at the vividness
of poets and people who have
had the most madness and hurt
inflicted on them

to be able to formulate creative
craft that is exquisite
of the psyche

I will learn to live without
something that kills so many
one day
without tommorrows
or yesterdays

perished poet I need be not

and I love Your poetry!

Thank You Ida

Beth the valedictorian...strident and proud
laughing and shy...
a beauty

all others...with perfect eyes
all outside all lines...

I thought I was just a drifter
the arrived grifter

no glitter
no game...

but maybe
I was a gambler
throwing it all

only ones I know
only ones who know

who take me in
are the world of those
far far outside

said I was not one
of you

not a surfer just at the surf edge
waiting for tales of adventure
the smell of the ocean in your
hair....the water at the corners
of your smile

riding waves


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