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wry bred
a porous sky
beneath an arc
of arm

sweet upon
the spread
like sunshine
on golden

like winter lending
fortunes clouds
to scape away
the plans
of whims and

and nocturnal
blessed eyes
filled with skies

like points
of ponderance
in a haste
crush rush
behind the veil
of conciousness

and the birds
on the lawn
with the crusts

Editing stage: 


its like this...laptop is old....
like a broken ass typewriter
under a forty watt bulb
because who can pay for
the writers with candles
in their and pen
the quiet times while the house
there are ads galore
and pop up-s....i have just lost
in two days two beautiful
flowing poems...

i let it go...
the arms in the air
feeling more realness sinking in
i went over how i lost the first two
and quickly....saw the errors..
the laptop has a touchpad i used
my finger and thumb with..
sliding the mouse....its hard.
the real electronic physical
mouse i can snap about
learning from the library because
time is so precious and im there
and got as many windows with
music overlapped and sites
linked to sites...and the random
crazy clatter bent over the wnder they dont
luike me..

and now this..microsofts losing neopoet the first
time around

im old and fast..been hustling
in speed lately the changes hitting
so i made it ...this poem
jerky and rushed
the first
under fire

i feel more and more like a more realer poet

author comment

maybe im thinking this..the way i look....i write
to hustling..under speed..
im moving fast in haste now..
before it was hours and minutes to
crank out the poetry
no pop ups jamming windows
open....a page lost forever
by agressive ads..
much like a stock trading floor

im flippant and luxury ridden
the world is changing
and im losing it

losing the its i had
like as in
i once had it..but it went away
traded away..sold away

a muse....want to shrug
say ...its no mind...
keep on drivin g driver
and the halo
i wanted to write....hai..
or hia...but that would
be like siagon
and the other
hollow was what i
was aiming for...
an emptiness
that the random mystery
a miracle
of plans

author comment

it's complicated
this race we run
against who? for what reason?
losing time like
it's a penny in the couch
thinking it will be worth something
if we can find it again
just to realize it is
as it was before
and we are no closer to winning
just closer to losing
as we hurry ourselves along
at the pace of technology
2x, 3x, 4x
hungry, starving in fact
hunger pains as we pull
into the realm
of our distorted reality
and write our names down
on a waiting list to die

there is no need for angst
lost words I have had many
but not by ads or clicks
someone else prying my letters apart
with a keyboard 3,000 miles away
or in NYC
or in the house down the street
just for the sake of being board
and placing their own name
on the list

I use ink and a lamp as often as I can
except when I write freestyle like this
they say if you put it on the internet
it's out there forever
but I feel so much closer
to the end of the line
when I can pick up that paper
and save a moment in time


i like summer..anonymity

long grasses and activity
the overlap of paths
and routes..

the sky alive with clouds
birds and aircraft

a quite
with all the lush
the dry dust

history is a tomb
we move about in
acting routines

speaking spells
filling in wells

the love of it
the romance
of how fast
we build up
and tear down
pull up the rails



author comment

had a problem

never really fit in
with what i was expected to be
not that it concerned
but it did

it hurt
from time to time
that I wasn't what they wanted
me to be
but I tried

and then i didn't
I didn't want to

never should have tried

cause I never wanted to

just led them on

led myself on

love the shade
of summer
it hides me
feels good
with its breezes
and shadows
cooling my thoughts
of how and where
and why I should



who cares?

I don't

I do


probably, I do

what does it really matter?
who does it really matter to?

in the long run
and me alone

so build those rails
cause my train is ready to roll
at least
I think it is


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