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Some people search in trash bins for cans.
They collect them to get paid.
Some people collect cans to get paid.

Some people go back to the place they like or really enjoy.
They go where they hope and dream.
Some people go back to that place where they hope and dream.
I'm sorry
I didn't mean to trick you
into believing that life might
have an ugly side
no, no, no

Life is nothing but sunshine and butterflies
Watch as they flutter
Against blue sky
And the greens of trees and grasses
Yes, that is nice

Life is a wonderful place
Where
All the happy clowns dance and smile
And there is a pony just for you
On your special day

Because little girls
Always get what they wish for
And a dream only stays a dream
Until the wish becomes fulfilled
Because that' is life

Double ones deserve at least that,
to know that nothing could ever harm them
And that everything is grand
A never-ending happiness
with double rainbows
---

the glowing iron wheel
had made its way
across the sky
crushing
everything
in its
path

i sit doubled over
my forehead
in rivulets
from the
furnaces
its passage
had stoked

clouds like
dusty dirt ruts
curving into
saguaro spiked
hills
to the west

crescent moon
a faint slice
like a
glowing
cattlebrand

the cicadas
still whirr
on
and
on
and
on


7 PM
and it is
still
98 degrees

and the
ghosts of
cowpokes
who
died the trails
still ride
their bony ponies
on their endless
road
into
the

sun


soulsurvivor
(C) 8/17/2015
but it's a dry heat
He was never as good as the other children,
At school they made him think he was to slow
For their games of
Hide
&
Seek
As how hard is it to find a slug when
A slippery, slimy trails left behind him.
He was never that fast always taking
Time to get to those places that
Others would speedily get too.
But what was the fun of missing
Views,
People,
Scenery
Always rushed past, he would take a
Moment to speak to those taking time
Out of a gradual slow day, until someone not
Gazing,
Looking,
Noticing
The slimly little trail, as they disappeared
Down a soggy path, anger turned to laugher
As they had the time of their life.
And on that day a new venture was played
A slowly little fellow,
Would slowly edge his way up the hill.
Once he was there, once he chilled out, they
Slipped,
Slithered,
Skidded,
Down the ***** with glee, a little fellow
He didn't run, jump, skip, only slowly walked,
But no one minded. It wasn't the climb up,
The school walk wasn't as slow anymore,
It was the speed that everyone went the other way down.
As if obeying an unwritten law of doom,
I slowly raise my head from its stupor,
as if somehow my eyes might meet yours,
the weight of raising it saps all strength,
making weary the bones,
so here I sit in my quilted chair,
reciting dark verse and listening to the single chords
of a disenchanted violin,
trying to fit together the wrong shaped parts
of a cataclysmic jigsaw puzzle,
yearning for the light and shadows of my waning moon
as it drifts across the darkened shape of my window,
the cross shaped frame crucifying my soul,
yet within this sanctuary of mind,
all does seem calm and contented.
when no mornings
follow nights
cities lie without their lights
little beasts root happily
children can live all their fears
   forests break
   mountains shake
then it’s time again

rockets roar with deadly freight
sharp explosions rock the night
   soldiers shoot
   graveyards bloom
it is war

when scrawny skeletons
creep through the streets
parents weep
dead bodies radiate
   new death
and crumpled shapes
   spread more disease
then it’s time again

the general orders strategic attacks
and watches how the metropolis cracks
   rivers stink
   battleships sink
it is war

when the bakers bake no more bread
when the butchers chop off their hands
when the doctors’ only prescription is death
   corpses float in the village pond
   and supermarkets stay closed
         24 hours a day
then it’s time again

maybe the ultimate time
for the warriors to storm from their heights
to the valleys to lance and destroy
   they also **** women
   all children are dead
   the moon is all red
   the stars are so wan

   we are counting the corpses
   as long as we can

   it is war

             * *
Originally written in January 2003, three months before the outbreak of the Iraq War.
that** book you never read the ending of,
or even if the last page was read,
it was a cliff-hanger of myth.

that desire to call, but you were too afraid,
despite the constant need to redeem yourself,
it was almost too tense for your heart.

that kiss you never attempted to place on lips,
those lips now haunt you for eternal life,
it was & still is a bold mistake.

that ''I love you'' you never could speak of,
out of fear of rejection & bitter truths,
it was your greatest mistake of all.
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