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Option Two

Crying due to the strength of a push
It was a gust of cruel wind!
I was an assaulted infant and so I cried
Human comfort came quickly and so I cried
Years made my bones and skin stretch
Push, strikes and fierce gravity
Take it and give back … you are grown.
You’ve been hurt and know your role! Cry, cry
Spiteful laughter and heartless remarks GOD NO!
Human comfort died as I grew .. chose option #2
Will my flesh away via stubborn chants, prayers
Remembering Wind rides above all human frailties




Completely absurd but I am sure of this …

Fine weather was dispatched for us

Torrents too were made for this silly couple

Sky fire, rain and us engulfed in power vortex … splendid

All that is womanly and wrong beyond my flesh

I noticed it and you love it, because your heart is brave

That which was hidden within your touch

I claimed it selfishly for my starving heart

I saw the man you truly are in a sea of nomadic souls

The lovely secrets between us is our treasure

Broken timelines are irrelevant for us

We love imperfectly, passionately, quietly and wholeheartedly

No changes necessary… such is our chemistry



We were once free – completely vulnerable yet safe

In our precious beginning – mixing our cries with air

We owned nothing but ourselves

Step – Happily surrounded with voluntary gifts

And there it went on and on through youthful years

Mind and heart produced and mattered

Tangible, lifeless objects and background noise

Still you owned (somewhat) disappearing things

Look, learn, feel the world – which is pleasing and insulting

Refuse to be a warden-prisoner of your gilded cages

Who was born to guard bloodless fancies – expensive and loveless

Guard and tenderly give the unprotected – with numbered names

Wealth in human ventures lightens any load

May your body carry and care for rediscovered smiles

Poorly Welcomed

Nothing. Eyes say nothing to blind soul

No valuables at first glance – look closer and simpler

Ears receive laughable gibberish

Poor eyesore noise maker … just go away

Wait! Papers, name, residence .. English, lousy jihadist!

Isis getup. Guilty – all over you! Cry louder sand man!

Enough regulated hate to stifle an American dream

He, she and we are free! Turn away our Jesus because he’s from the middle east?

No peace without Him – kneel with humility and reverence




Pesky Thing

Old is routinely coming

It visits much too often

Understanding the need

The drive to radically alter

No surgeon, no makeup

Hair, nails pampering – allowed

Hello? They appear in mirror

Four facial criminals – Hair

Pretty nails proceed with plucking

All but one evicted – pesky thing

My greatest non-human love

Consistently there from day 1

Stained by sorrowful tears

Bearing the brunt of raging limbs

Witness to pleasant and avant-garde dreams

Partner when the downs are my skin

How ill I am – you know all too well

Prompt up upon you now – writer writes

It’s tragic when I leave my bed


In spurts and droplets
In torrent floods
Letters questionably unite
Give birth to insightful words
Words wiggling about seeking form
Within crippled yet stubborn brain
Defending rights to be renamed
Frightened Poet sobs on page
One laborious, well penned poem
Now create again

Enemy Stairs

Passed through you easily
Many happy days ago
No contention at all … until
Lower extremities died, perhaps?
No – just suicidal for a time
Dear physical terrorist arrives
Lifting, pushing, lecturing away
Walker, nothing, commode, cane
Face you again and again
Terror hits relentlessly
That’s where I fell multiple times
Clutch railing, sob with all steps
Feel Sun and Wind embrace me
Walk like a crippled writer
Ignore the awful truth for a while
I have to go back again

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Writer Drank Too Much, Again

Not enough stage time for this wacky gem ….. please read.

Medicated Words

Drink, more hard, allegedly creative drink!

Christian thoughts say NO

Although my hands are still atheist by nature

So many forms of immortality

They thoughtfully, suggestively call to me

Sculptures, paintings, music not quite suited for me

 When it comes to me, use absurdity

Seek obnoxiously penned verses

Eternity amongst humid pressed stacks of old and new, perhaps

When dead, I make a stubborn corpse

My stoic, fighting arms refuse to lie down in a laughing coffin

Weigh them down with my self-righteous writings

In remembrance of me, color what is left in sanctimonious colors

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