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From the moment she  first put me in my place.
Following  with texts and pics of her ivory face
I was smitten
From the first time she taught me something
new,
      fresh,
           and  fun,
A force, beautiful, brilliant, real as the sun.
I love her irreverence but kind at the core
We're both damaged , and jaded but tough as iron ore
Spicy, Sassy and smart as a fox
She gave a middle-aged guy butterflies; considerations of detox.
Given the choice I wouldn't change a single thing;
This girl's the real deal,  in a world full of dim
Thom Jamieson Dec 2018
Last week, on a particularly dark Sunday;
With only a permit between me and eternity;
I exhaled and it was gone.
Gone was the hurt and anger and pain
Gone was self-doubt and anguish and fear
Gone was the guilt and regret and self hate
Because gone was me
Not my body, or my mind
Not my love or appreciation
Those were expanded, exponentially.
No I literally mean me.
The guy driving, the pilot
The Great and Powerful Oz,
I pulled back the curtain
and no one was there.
And I was absolutely ecstatic
In a rush of pure love
The talking head exploded
and a butterfly took flight
"I think he's really gone this time"
Good riddance.
Not rhythmic or pretty but neither am I.
Thom Jamieson Dec 2018
If not for insanity,
I'd have no sanity.
Pass the salt
a bit of levity in an otherwise dark collection :) "It's getting better all the time."
Thom Jamieson Dec 2018
There is no wound like regret,
a festering infection
lingering long past initial cut.
A reminder of its infliction.
Of failed attempts to change course.
Of time squandered
on madness masked as problems.
Of a way once clear and easy to follow.
Now untended, and overgrown,
With pitfalls to spare.
Once surrounded by companions in travel,
Now only a few broken remain;
Too weak, and sick, to clear the path again
So we sit, and obsess,
on festering infections
While the weeds continue to grow.
Thom Jamieson Dec 2018
I will never trust again
Because trust inevitably leads to pain,
Which leads to tears,
Which leads to mistakes,
Which leads to hurt
Better to live a life devoid of love
Than to hurt this deeply again.
so sorry
Thom Jamieson Dec 2018
I am already dead,
just too lazy
and apathetic
to make it official.
I am already dead.
Thom Jamieson Nov 2018
In every direction, to the limits of sight
Squirrels
Scrambling to fill their cheeks
With treasures to sustain
The coming sleep
In every corner, of every block
Squirrels
Frantic, pacing, scouring ground
For imaginary ignitable jewels
Dropped in a dream the night before
Down the paths of affluence
Opulent interests guarded with teeth
Squirrels
Frenzied hoarding for more
Smart black top-coat,
Covering a shiny shell,
On stiff skids of leather
And an armor of importance
Spitting orders, to the others
To forage and pillage,
And steal the nuts
To fatten and fan the
Flames of false dignity
And good intention
Inside holes hidden deep.
I love squirrels, the furry kind.  I carry peanuts in my pocket at all times should I see one.  They are simple, non-judgmental, and what you see is what you get.  I love squirrels, the furry kind
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