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softness swallowing
the dark permeates
up leg lengths
the bannister
slipping like a staff
into the pool

the black fear
that trickles up the
street from townes
the rivers saviour
rust crumbing
the steel plates
eroding like minutes
on the wind up
school watch

cars with no exhaust
prowl...a primal crash
out against the boundaries
of their need

the hot bowls
the needles bite
come daytime
the ordinary go
about making up their slice

heaven and apple pie

roll over while the murky
water in the air spits
the fan catching it
the black emblazed leather
couch full of your limbs
scattered like winter
branchs brought down
like live wires in the
eastern storms

your pale winter pallor

we are as wide this hate
as the black deep river
held up on a miracle like
the bridge

the sunshine finds me
warms my chest
a wave on the way in

an angel at the pawn shoppe
will greet me
take my warm silver from
my fingers

keep a ratio of my soul
until next time


Editing stage: 


what you see or want to show
but your poetry queued up for two days
I don't want others to know

you should be read instantly
by many more
not that i
alone u adore

its like a sound wave....visually we love things
..appealing..we know it from light reflection..
memory of a sight...but many are born without sight
or cannot see.their eyes fail due to disease accident
etc......then its aural texture..
depths..echos..wavelengths still of vibrations
through the atmosphere and it has many moods
like sight...all based on moisture per centage and ratios..

anyway confusing writing is a texture..
the other sense..the sense of feeling..
and that i struggle with..
i can convey how i feel
but coming in and how to react
or work with them
adapt to them.
thats confusing
so i write in codes..
its written this way as to
be confusing...

im at home with it all ending
up in the circling drone platform
i go in there and put others up
comment on their work
its like being a teacher
some are wretches and terrible
they pick on the bright and lazy
i worked with many of these
whom made much in their
life later on...

some would call them poor white
trash and they hated it and knew
it...we can live our entire lives
wishing but accepting is the more
way out..fighting for a flag
thats already trampled is
stupidity if you ask me..

we may have been...
and we may not have been
i dont think so..
we were pretty good hearted
people..despite the issues
of the psychological issues
but they themselves had a
lot of heavy burdens already..
and they tried..

the feelings..textures..
its not something of a given pleasantness
its interesting because we tear up
or question some of the more
sing song poetry which i dont mind
people work to make that
we dont and cannot see how much
time is spent on these works
and what it really personally means
to people....its not a publishing site
so there is no grading
and i know that life chews you up
and spits you out
and karma sees everything we do
no matter what our rational
is or isnt......

so anyway the texture thing
i write textures...
so if i write confusing works
instead of sing song lark happy
feeling fun poems
instead of embracing the dark
of which i dont think many
are going to come out
and say this and that
here even..

i can sit and profile much
headhunting was a joy
but im no cop and no judge

my writing is texture
coded yes..
like shakespeare whom i love
and rap now..
the hipsters

sometimes im on here and sometimes
im not..
this place has gone through its growth
curve....settling in..
like on the trail in nam
people tearing away your excess on your
pack...but in reality that was needed
it may have given many a chance
in actual combat...
of course odds are odds
and im an oddity
writing the freak that i am...

i know the want to show part
is the magic
like a word magician
the illusion is the word
is the word im working on
about blind deaf and dumb
intelligence is not limited to
physical or genetic disenchaments
but our greatest gifts

everyone competes..its in us
to survive..

i should be read more..
but loved

i like the small venues
because i am small
big would be a fake

why be what i am not

i shall continue to write
more confusing poems

thank you..

author comment

wow! meandering
from one maze to another
over my head all goes
so why bother

I will amaze
at more of your meander
dear Esker

thank you Loved!

author comment
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