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Mrs Timetable Apr 2022
I'm drawn
To you
But I would still
Rather  
Be
Pulled
Towards you
Funny how that is
Mrs Timetable Apr 2022
I listen to your song everyday
Somedays the lyrics are lush
Some they are few
But your music always
Touches
We all have our go to
  Apr 2022 Mrs Timetable
Carlo C Gomez
Penny
Nickel
Dime
It's 'pay up' time

But under my pillow
The next morning
A clipping of
Lillian Brown's household hints?

Apparently this guy pays
A whole lot more
For a perfect tooth
Than one in remarkable decay
  Apr 2022 Mrs Timetable
Carlo C Gomez
The sky is an artistic graveyard.

Many a hero and many a fool have come to their fate in its wave-driven clutches.

The number of syllables required to storybook danger is as dense as ozone.

The orange layer—a warning sign, posted by the forebearers of fun, who were categorically undone by the very forces they worshipped.

Birds no better than to fly at such temperamental altitudes.

But the dream will die if we don't try.

And so we hoist our ambition like a kite, hoping to stay aloft long enough to discover something more about ourselves.
  Apr 2022 Mrs Timetable
Carlo C Gomez
~
With all too
familiar moorings,

holding fast the chain
of sons and daughters,

this hiding place
isn't watertight,

life trickles in everywhere,
hopeful to the bitter end.

~
Mrs Timetable Apr 2022
The vibe of you makes me melt
But not so I can sleep
Puddle of emotions
Cannot be explained
You let me inhale
A trace of that vibe
And it's all I need
Just knowing you are there
  Apr 2022 Mrs Timetable
Carlo C Gomez
What comes after 'Z'
cannot be expressed
by letters or words.
I'm afraid, it's a bit of
snickersnee.

For they have their say
in our struggles and fears,
in our laughter and tears,
in our sighs and moans,
to deep within our bones.

They're in our very own
heartbeats, great and small,
in that place within us
where some rain must inevitably fall.

Where they came from is no mystery,
but we each tend to use them
in the secret hours
of our private history,

like a trail of breadcrumbs,
like a bridge we jump from,
never mindful,
never loyal,
always on the tip of our tongue,
and there it toils...
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