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pockets of night
follow my legs
around the leap
of living dawn

I am a nerve
metropolis shaking
like the cries of

the beads of drips
descending through
the veins of black
scrawling forth and
out with waiting buds

a ruin of thoughts
peel memories
behind faded

I have come
to dab graffiti

ghost artists

knocked out ideals
and purring
prowling principles

ash rimmed grievances
steadfast eye me
in hazel gaze

I can count love there
stirring like a fresh

sharpened and shame
with the grit of its

The bitterness
to Tame

Editing stage: 


camafloge of indifference
shows red against the wood
protectionless offering

swift runner
slowed by want
scent marks the spot

astounding graffitti prowling principles

touche thankyou

I roll in the verminous decopauge
arising with tangled fur and wild eyes
nothing more pure then drive
and passion in its heat and throes

or to stretch out yawning in a hot breeze
near a cool creek
the dirt smudges rubbing into my long
Bluenotes designer jeans

the sky above so clear
and near
haunted with memories
and winters emotions
feeling a heartbeat
once beneath my
bare hands
soft and warm..

author comment

a lot like the word association tests I was given once! Though they may not be the same thoughts that you thought, I think I follow them. Kinda like dabbing graffiti, in the presence of the artist. ~ Gee

There is value to commenting and critique, tell us how you feel about our work.
This must be the place, 'cause there ain't no place like this place anywhere near this place.

I sit alone most days and times....
although many like me here
there has been a rather limited
score of those attempting more...
and when that occured I was
admidst the great derelictions

I am not the I did
I am the wait see

word association yes
cuts away the chaff of
banter...the fair weather
birds at the feeder
and I eventually see
the prescence of greatness

during a turmoil I saw through
the falsehood of many here
and am able to stand with
those whom are true friends


dreaming to reality...
most dont want to be awoken
but I didnt mind

I value what my intuition already
spoke of

artists are a strange and different
breed...writers too
fascinating creatures with habits
and shadows
blazing brilliant with creative luminous
souls of atrocities

oh the humanity!!!!!!!!!!!

(did I say I love true poets..
poetic geniuse??)

I am tanning and walking
and sitting My eyes becoming
more lighter

winter that I love is away
and I shall unduly embrace
this summer in her wealth
with all her visual treats

Thank You!

author comment
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