Posts
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Ode to the Wind
When I awake for the second time
the window tremors at the slightest
touch of the wind. I notice it never falters
despite moving along each season.
It hoists piles of leaves in suburban yards -
11:07 pm on a 20° Fahrenheit Night
I.
I haphazardly roam this “wonderland” of sorts,
yet there is nothing magical about these bleak
expansive hills that submerse my every
racing thought- releasing the whisper of memories -
the tree who gave
after it was all done
and the world had settled
on the final whisper of hope;
the tree sighed with relief.
it has spent rings of centuries
feeding generations of
unthankful fools that caused -
The Paternal Heirloom
I wonder how you live
Through a vague vision of self-dosing
Copious amounts of forty percenter
Guiding you into a limitless hole of destruction;
Leading you out of your kins life one wobbled step at a time. -
My Love
It’s comparable to a genius fleeting thought
That wiggled its way into one ear
Then out the other- then gets lost in the void
Between what I ate for breakfast
And if I took my medication. -
Ode to my first
She was always my favorite –
I’ve heard people say your first love is when
Your brain flings out of the stratosphere,
And you hallucinate hearts dancing around
Her body, singing a joyous tune in
Loves
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I seek beauty, peace and happiness
Warming the skin,
Sun you sicken me
As with every loving branch of light you extend to me
Reminded am I of the warm love we once had
Together and close
Pure,
Naive? -
loneliness
savor companionship,
for if it gets lost in a foreign sea,
the world turns gray,
dark and bleak.savor companionship,
for if it gets frozen in time,
the world might catch on fire,
and the pain won’t subside. -
Waning Moon, Fleeing Soul
The moon is waning,
slipping away into the night,much like my mind.
As I run over boulders and logs and grass and hills and trees and rivers and —
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Mother to Child
From the day you were born I loved you unconditionally.
I loved you every second, of every minute, of every day.
When you were born, I was reborn alongside you.
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Because The Monster Writes Poetry
The Monster is massive
with fangs and with claws
all lacquered and sharpened
sticking out from its jaws
The Monster is ghoulish
with deep, sunken eyes
it speaks whispers of wicked
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My Dearest Maria
The house was empty without her. The kitchen was robbed of laughter. Our room had stolen comfort. Nothing was the same. She was my everything.