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Seconds
Minutes
Hours

Weeks
Months
Years

Yesterday
Today
Tomorrow

Time
The measure of tolerance
The Creator has with his creation
I can taste *****,
and it sounds like you.
Senses left reeling, it feels like
I'm stealing a slice out of
heaven.
touch and touch against skin,
her eyes letting me in,these
singing words seem to be the
fluttering of a thousand birds, but
it's my heart.

She lays waste to my taste buds as she
kisses me light and
I surrender again
to the night.
 Jan 2015 db cooper
abecedarian
Masters of the Universe,
tender me thy resignation,
if but for
a day,
a millennia,
no matter how measured,
any being,
you, purported supreme
or otherwise,
are tired in ways
hard to comprehend

tender me
thy responsibilities and dilemmas,
have studied your resignations,
solutions that provide no resolution...


I can do better.

Why?

not obligated by parenthood,
rules of randomness superimposed,
all I got is human kindness
the eyesight that
colors kindness,
tolerates no injustice,
milky white light,
no longer recognize

"there for the grace of God
go you and I"

have no name,
but if you need one for me,
call me
<human>
 Jan 2015 db cooper
Brittle Bird
Go ahead,
                  bite me.

I’m sure you will hate the taste

   of this mess you’ve made
in the pleasure of discovering
words rhymes rhythms
i'm a gluttonous poet.

day and night
bite of my growing appetite
makes me sink low

i don't notice
broken pieces
shattered peaces
around me

i breathe in writing
eat and drink
poetry

crazed obsessed stressed
my poetry
like any other debauchery
is an escape ride
someplace to hide

i'm a poet
subservient
to the pleasures of words rhymes rhythms.
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