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 Nov 2015 AnActualToaster
ryn
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   oo
    oo
         oo
               oo
o                    oo
oo                       oo
ooo                       ooo
ooo                    ooo
oooooooooooo
oooooo

•an
eternity it
   seems like•dang-
ling your hook in the
sea of life•hoping for bre-
am, salmon or pike•one of
which would make the perfect
wife•many a fish in rivers and lakes
•plenty more awaiting in oceans and seas•
many would do whatever it takes • battling
the days' heat  and  nights' breeze • wishing
upon      many moonbeams•followed      by
•            the  passing of indifferent          •
sun-rays •waiting an
entire  lifetime
it seems
•just to
finally land
that coveted catch 
  of the                 day 
   •                           •


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Concrete Poem 6 of 30

Tap on the hashtag "30daysofconcrete" below to view more offerings in the series. :)
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You're the most beautiful girl I've ever seen.
And I know that.

But I can't rediscover it every ******* day.
I can't return to that epiphany
every time my alarm clock goes off.
It's unnatural.

But what I can do, and do quite naturally,
is become jaded and unimpressed by it.
I can see your beauty as normal,
as one of my life's many constants.

I can climb atop its shoulders and travel about,
rolling my eyes at sunsets and rainbows,
dismissing all the beauty of the world as
less than average.

And I complain to you about it.
And you can deduce your beauty from that.
On the third of June, at a minute past two,
where once was a person, a flower now grew.

Five daisies arranged on a large outdoor stage
in front of a ten-acre pasture of sage.

In a changing room, a lily poses.
At the DMV, rows of roses.

The world was much crueler an hour ago.
I'm glad someone decided to give flowers a go.
Here I go again
Wishing I would be dead
Burning bridges again
What is wrong in my head?
Is it something I did?
Or is it just who I am?
These feelings break the lid
And I say I am just a man
But that can’t be right
Because I am more a child
No one sees me in the night
So I try to hide the wild
But inside all I see is the wreck
And I am thinking what the heck
A bullet might taste better than this
If I aim will I still miss?
I know I was made for more
But who cares for my soul so sore
I see no one to run to for care
I am just left grasping for air
When you smile no one looks
When you cry they give you books
So tired of this madness
This abundant lack of gladness
Break me to take me back home
I never walk alone
But I just feel alone
Without a home
 Nov 2015 AnActualToaster
Arj
it comes alive in the night
and grows
like a bonfire
smoking dreams of
false tomorrows.
but like me, we know
tomorrow's a mystery
filled with uncertainty
and butterflies that fly
out the back of your throat
and they gloat you
fluttering their wings
with coulda beens and shoulda beens
and this is all just talking about me.

I always tell myself that
I'll slap em out the air
but by the end of the day
my hands are still clean.
The promise
of emptiness
Is no reward for
the miles you
Walked
on daggers.
 Nov 2015 AnActualToaster
ryn
Hear ye!
Hear ye!
Oh how I love concrete poetry!
Itching to write and sculpt and mould.
Twiddle my thumbs as I thought to myself silently.
Reckon I'd render my musings in italics and in bold!

Hear ye!
Hear ye!
30 days of concrete, wouldn't you fancy?!
These poems, they come in various shapes.
Would you consider them "poetic eye candy"?
If I fashioned poems to look like grapes!

Hear ye!
Hear ye!
Awashed with excitement!
I can't wait to share!
Fantastical, delicious and ultimately succulent!
A wonderful spread of such wordy fare!

Hear ye!
Hear ye!*
When is this... GREAT BIG AFFAIR?
On the morrow, I'll dish out the first serving!
Do tune in if you so do care...
30 days of concrete! The shape fest is beginning!
Greetings! I will be posting a concrete poem each day for the next 30 days. It's a huge undertaking and I'm really pumped up about it! Stay tuned... :)
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