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How is one to help one’s self amidst
This age of screens and brightly buzzing button fiends?
Ever growing, infiltrating, accelerating glowing screens
are stimulating brain and eye and ear machines,
no matter where you go, pupils of caffeine,
or so they’d seem, are seen seeing screens
dilating from the grasping of a human dream
Of digital immortality.
Reappearing the white dots on my fingernail
I’m growing a child again I yell
She smiles having by now known it well
It’s where I dwell.

Her mocking smile is an annoyance
Still louder I yell
White dots come on a child’s finger and toenail.

My lady ever practical says *how do I gain
If ever you really become a child again
It would be a tall demand and I’m afraid
The first thing you would ask for is to be breastfed!
Best friends for life
Respect and love unbreakable
Occurances of strife
Treasured trust deeper than space
Hearts chained together
Everlasting link unshakable
R**ichness of soul, love forever
 May 2014 Grace Pickard
amber
--
 May 2014 Grace Pickard
amber
--
my notebooks are empty
because i do not write
i only memorise your moves
and poetry happens at sight
Never thought to think and place the link to join the dots,lots of time to think of that right now,the fattened calf became the cow which gives no milk,'a sows ear made from silk' ,you say,
as well you may and I agree,wasted opportunity and chances  seldom come along the worn out way old way.
I pay my dues and win or lose it's all the same,the piper played a different tune and I being antsy danced too soon which was another time I did not think.
Now seeing dots before my eyes,a sign of age and no surprise,I try to separate them one from one and each dot carries me right on and to another,
I think and
this time I took the time, that seeing dots before my eyes is punishment for all the lies I told and ****** all to do with getting old,I may be wrong like many times before,but like pips wrapped round the apple core they grow.
I know that dots turn into spots and spots turn into one big blotch and so I watch,dots.
If dots are all I'm going to see and to join them makes another me,give me a pen so I can start,
and if I start to start again with coloured pen to join the dots there's lots more time to think,
I think.
 May 2014 Grace Pickard
amber
the flowers in your hair
are not fortunate enough to meet your eyes
instead they only ever sit on your head
and improvise
 May 2014 Grace Pickard
Audrey
Wish
 May 2014 Grace Pickard
Audrey
I'm not perfect, I know that,
But I wish I didn't feel like a
Leftover,
Trash,
Tossed aside because my hips are too wide
And my stomach is soft and rounded, not flat.
I'm not perfect, I know that,
But I wish I didn't feel
Awkward,
Stupid,
Stammering because I'm in love,
And my day is made with her smile, not anything else.
I'm not perfect, I know that,
But I wish I didn't feel like a
Freak,
***,
Whispered about because my heart has fallen hard
And it's for a pretty girl with glasses, not a football player.
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