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 Mar 2017 IrieSide
TS Garrett
tHEY WERE SOLEMN

they tossed in their sleep

They were the shadows cast against monoliths
when elbows and knees failed to crawl
hostile for the weight of gravity
annunciated through colors and their own speech  
graphitized in the name pagan underground punctuation
under ***** nails!

they made routine
of always casting long spells

that dirtied and dripped
with

“oh my God”
Every time I close my eyes
Memories like to **** me
My slumber is so dark
Nothing can awake me

Shadows fill the void..
A deep and empty well
And somewhere at the bottom
Rolling is Adele.
 Mar 2017 IrieSide
PJ Poesy
Predicament of the zero hour
enabling brave or foolish decision
Even  mélange of both
Hitting home
physical structures oppose
Unfleshly
Holy Ghost takes over,
very much also  
Divinity and arousal

Only human
perched on brink of flight
dwelling is no perception
of freedom
Apprehending bigger picture
"To judge is not to love"
or something Mother Teresa said

When Pops referred to "The Bible"
it meant, bring him the sports page
Dichotomous our separate ways
revealing conscious decisions
Tridented a third eye  
When a vision of something further
sends to sentiment beyond
Cast and flung
Stealing home plate
and called, "Safe"
Pondering what only a god
may leverage
My father who had been suffering dementia, passed on today. This is a contemplation of his struggle and his strength. I love you Pops.
 Mar 2017 IrieSide
Essa Freedom
Every book I open
Every story I read
Another adventure I start
Another Life I begin

I live with them
And laugh
And run
And cry with them

I just don't belong
Not in the real world
But however unlikely
In literacy I find a place

In the end
The pages ripped my heart
They pull me apart
They ruined my life
And they changed who I am

Yet without them
My life is nothing
I am incomplete

The author who holds the knife
Dangles it over my head
With each character's death
A new tear in my soul

A new life in literacy
A gift not all can receive
Without literacy  
I would have no life at all

Such is the curse of the reader

Do not feel sorry from them
Feel sorry for those those who do not read
For those who live but one life
A life a ignorace at that
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