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Mysocalledlifesequence
23/F/Phoenix, Arizona I enjoy writing poetry and creative nonfiction about love, hate, deceit, and life experiences. I have a blog as well: mysocalledtravels.com / All Rights Reserved
Rolling thunder, closely followed by lightning. A storm is near, all normalcy goes out the window. The droplets make a soft pitter-patter on the Stark, midnight concrete. Inlaid with the tears: Of college students, Business professionals, Homeless wanderers. The salty droplets create a ripple effect in the water. A man driving We are always in a rush He hits the puddle who hits The little old lady Our destinations become blurred As the torrential downpour ensues. People, including me, COMPLAIN GRUMBLE No eye contact walking warily, wayward down the street. But sometimes, maybe, the clouds in a storm bring Peace, maybe Clarity, maybe Presence. It may be. Sometimes there’s a rainbow Look for that.
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Dec 23, 2019
Dec 23, 2019 at 2:44 PM UTC
Raindrops tear on barren desert wasteland
Why do I pick you up? Relentlessly Energy bleeding Gasping for relief No solace in Your (you’re) gray; Matter
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Sep 18, 2019
Sep 18, 2019 at 6:02 PM UTC
Need a Pick me up?
Look closer than they appear As I look in the mirror I make out two black figures In tandem Like a devils dance I dance with the devil But I have my soul Seeing these images Burn my retinas Tarnished
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Sep 18, 2019
Sep 18, 2019 at 6:08 AM UTC
Objects in the mirror
In the throes In those transposed In my mind through the murky Stolen waters of thoughts Blurted out, Probably obscene Cut. The director yells Who is the director of my life?
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Sep 16, 2019
Sep 16, 2019 at 5:41 PM UTC
In the throes
I see you Skating away Skirt chaser Alcohol induced love Drug hazed fiend Double shot No salt No lime Straight alcohol to burn away Your thoughts, condolences, intimidating sneers Burns away your resolve, yourself
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Sep 16, 2019
Sep 16, 2019 at 4:11 PM UTC
Shot of Tequila
I thought you were sent from heaven, But you came straight from hell. clawing, scratching, gnawing me down. Not even “God” can save us now. Te hodiste. **** it.” Pobrecito. “Poor thing.” Cooing like a child who steals your heart, Never to return.
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Sep 16, 2019
Sep 16, 2019 at 4:09 PM UTC
Messenger
Through each situation,            You’re a new person, conformist. Body like a snake,                 The serpent himself         See him? Contorting, twisting, fitting. He’s the Man of the hour.                 Dripping like solid gold, are his words.                         The “audience” stands captivated.           Almost frozen, I’ve lost my tongue. Unable to speak, I’m no match           - For you.
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Sep 16, 2019
Sep 16, 2019 at 3:59 PM UTC
The Serpent
Light seeps through the Window cadences of rhythm Like a heartbeat Of true intentions Misconceptions dodge the soul Dust particles pass my face Proving I’m still alive Somewhere inside This shell At night my astrolabe Can not contain the measures Of uneasiness and skepticism arising In this government induced anxiety
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Sep 16, 2019
Sep 16, 2019 at 3:58 PM UTC
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