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Kevin T Wilson Jul 2013
A whispered warning...
What does it mean?
Was it a faint reality or was it a vivid dream?
She was a beautiful machine with fixed tight lips ,perky breast ,and uncuttable iron wrist.
A piece of peace ******* in by God.
A singing voice that seemed to pass threw my every pore ,but faintly spoke.
A message delivered with excellence.
"Come to me me and taste that the Lord is good!"
A fascinating warning!
What does it mean?
Mary a machine?
How can it be?
Kevin T Wilson Jul 2013
There is poetry in silence.
It's void creates endless thoughts, thoughts that deliver fear and regret.

There is poetry in the way some people hate.
The hate that builds bombs and funds war, wars and more wars with peace killing hero's.

There is poetry is the loveless *****.
Her sweaty breast are better than all of us.
Her common sense has been beaten and explored.

There is poetry in the addict just trying to feel better but coming undone.
Climbing high and falling fast.

There is no poetry for the poet.
Art does not create reality.
Reality creates art and reality is forever changing.
Kevin T Wilson Jul 2013
Its sweet how you guys get up with each other when one of you must leave. .... It shows you care the way that your blood shot eyes seem to stare.  I should awake with my love when he goes to leave ,but I know I should not make promises that I cannot keep - plus it's much more of a gift to keep my hateful *** asleep.....
Kevin T Wilson Jul 2013
They all seem discursive and scattered,
Why would these curses ever matter?
Who will command stillness to wickedness so desolate and dead?
Partly I lay feeble in the head.

I am leisurely in limbo and moderately consoled.
I'm uncalled for and ribald ,but accounted.
Everything fit in place!
Ethical with a little slowness ,and a touch of corruption.
What was happiness is now a presumption,
Evolving and clawing threw this crushed creation.
Living is somber with a fatal fixation,

With all these things taken into consideration...
I am completely unchallenged with this sad situation.
Kevin T Wilson Jul 2013
All this trailer park breath makes me feel sticky on the inside... I feel a little violated.I have never smelled poverty pass between someones lips before now.Everyone is hungry ,but someone spent the food stamps on energy drinks ,bologna and a star crunch... so they say. There are ***** babies everywhere! What breed are these heathens being forced out of? How is it possible to have so many children of a similar age? Their hair looked like ****** tails. Most all of them where naked with little *** belly's. In between the mumbles and incoherent English of the children I could hear an elderly woman in the back room of the trailer saying over and over "the Government will pay for the housing." Thinking things could not get stranger I hear the creak of the front door. A hairy man enters the room wearing cut off shorts ,a ******* shirt ,a straw cowboy hat ,and neon pink lipstick. Lost for words I stare. He walks over leans and whispers " I was molested." ,and then crunches a cockroach that was running across the floor with his over sized boots. He scrapes the brown mess off on a ***** naked baby doll and then walks back out the door. It was at that moment that I prayed that God would remove this tragedy. How could this monstrosity go unnoticed? I am completely saturated with pity and disgust...
Kevin T Wilson Jul 2013
It is my calvary ,my redemption
I see it in the distance but seeing it does not make it any more obtainable
My calvary
My redemption
My runway to the stars...
Kevin T Wilson Jul 2013
I love her!

Well at least I like to tell myself that.
I suppose I cared because no on else did. I find that sometimes I get lost in her gibberish that flows from her lips like ***** from a drunken school girl.
She would ***** her disgusting words all over me. Each conversation I became a victim. A martyr for a senseless cause I was left dripping with confusion...
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