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Subsitution

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

I am a nerve
metropolis shaking
like the cries of
birds

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
brilliance

I have come
to dab graffiti
worship

ghost artists

knocked out ideals
sulking
and purring
prowling principles

ash rimmed grievances
steadfast eye me
in hazel gaze

I can count love there
stirring like a fresh
day

sharpened and shame
damp
with the grit of its
touch

The bitterness
to Tame

Editing stage: 

Comments

camafloge of indifference
shows red against the wood
protectionless offering

swift runner
tackled
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

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
then.....

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

now...

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
minds
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
grittier

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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