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k u r t u z e e B a r r e

I want to scream
and throw this ghost
against the frieze of walls
shatter like a fresco

But its ivy
is rippling in the wind
of your voice

You;ve awoken
the mobile
the inert
the resting

Its dreamlight
this sky is wrong

THe Blue Period
like a high
its heat in the arms
where we never
a day
a minute

I am dressed
flipping a zippo
with a thumb
and fingers

the rings
loose on
now thinner
and long

to awake
the cascade

the thick black
like moles

and i hear
us gnashing
digging in
the claws

as an estate
the plans
on an arm
with a finger

the little thumb
on its triggerz

Editing stage: 


I can't help you with this. Oh, wait, I can. You have a typographical error in stanza five. An unwanted capital "H".
As it has been said and I agree: you are likely the most naturally talented poet at NeoPoet (though Geremia and Lonnie might share that distinction).

W. H. Snow

A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds. Percy Bysshe Shelley

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Thank You for the acclaim...I guess it just
is....Lonnie and Geremia are great poets

the H...didnt mean too...writing too fast..
manic sometimes...
sleep exhaustion..pain meds..
too wild with a thousand ideas..

few true blue times

fantastic imageries..
spell casting
out of focus
i dont have the lexicon
to expand fully the
details like some can
the pan back
i stick to this what
im good at..
like the peep show
the rolling pan
across a scene

a lot of this is how i see
life but i cannot describe
my life word for word
not this strange wonderland
that i want to live in
because I know its not

pretend world of writing
an escape from the real life
less risk
my personas can be the
hero and anti hero
the myth masks

im not getting grades on this not competing to

its just going out there
like a broadcast
a signal

its beautiful though
the whole ideal of this
place form the long ago
to now..

seven years here now
for me...

thank you.

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