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tenor-kemp
tenor-kemp
42/M/Australian I'm into music, writing and my family, not necessarily in that order.
Take another day of afterglow; put it down as luck. Another place has turned to gold in my dominion... Too much more of happiness and I will turn to gold myself! Made of curiosities, placid on my shelf... Rewards for scarcity... This is my reward for scarcity... My rewards for scarcity... I will see more dawns than coins. I will be the text on art. I can't stand too much attention. Pull me closer! Pull me closer! I will criticise this state of art yet I will play this risen part. Rewards for scarcity... This is my reward for scarcity... My rewards for scarcity... My rewards for scarcity... My rewards for scarcity.
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Dec 26, 2018
Dec 26, 2018 at 11:11 AM UTC
Scare City
remember sometimes winter chill the thunder played, the feeling still an angry grey upon the beach and lightning, far as light could reach; a sadness had me then and now but still i could see through and how a silver lining shone beyond and veil of winter might be gone and i might hold it once again, a happiness, a thrill and then a lighter moment, far above and feel again a faith in love; i climbed again on dunes away to see beyond again that day. the world could end and i alone would weep and for its sins atone.
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Apr 11, 2018
Apr 11, 2018 at 8:02 PM UTC
As Light Could Reach
woke up old with cold bones creaking, bright knives cut through shuttered blinds; gasped and breathed, remembered, rose and crept out from the dark to find a bag sat packed; the words came back: "Come see me then, if you're alive." the mist hung down from cloud and sky; a sun sat brave but weak and low; the trees so straight and tall remembered summers young and long ago. the engine spat and growled and every tread declared its vigour still, and soon the trees, the sun and mist were lost behind the valley hill. on i sailed through burning winds and grey and smokey white-lined seas. i thought of all i'd say and all you'd ask and what the past would mean, and all those summer times we climbed and hid among the valley trees.
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Jan 23, 2013
Jan 23, 2013 at 9:23 PM UTC
Out From the Valley
no one spoke we got back home and closed the door coaxed fire lit and sat well back a brew in hand we bent, compared the lessons as that music played next room, next door the child outside his laughter welled decision made and past retaken set afoot now walk the path to fireplace we took the urn and spilled the ash into the flame now we're all done playing his old game
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Dec 31, 2011
Dec 31, 2011 at 9:14 PM UTC
His Old Game
beauty wept among the loathsome swells a bitter squall that lashed and unforgave all good of days now gone and lost and buried in remembrances of cities beneath the waves; from clouds of brilliant light against the blue, and hope and love for time still then ahead; in thoughts that had no life and yet still knew that now, though still alive, were mainly dead; i watched from high above and circled wide, forbade her tears from strengthening the waves; i sang of sun beyond the rim, and turning tide, and of the hope and brighter light her new life gave. the ocean wore the stone away at last but not before her life became their past.
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Dec 31, 2011
Dec 31, 2011 at 9:10 PM UTC
A Bitter Squall