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Greg Muller Mar 2020
Set out from the sandy shore.
The lake an everlasting Paramore.

The boat breaths like my hearty chest
Up and down upon the waves white-tipped crest

Overhead the birds squawk in a one-note tune.
Like a harpsichord playing an unknown song.

Turning away from the sun
The blue ocean becomes glum Black sunglasses fall further on my face.

Water droplets still find my smiling face.
Sailing wind drives us away from my starting place

A Call
A Shout.
Turning on my breath

A shoreman’s happiest wish
A fresh face for whom to softly kiss.

The boat turns toward our shore.

Leading us to both softly tip
Without a word on our fearless lips

Docking us once more
Upon the sandy shore.
Greg Muller Feb 2020
Wood creeks
Ignored for their own work.
Sweat dollops came from rope tying

Strength of communication: my name was said twenty paces away.
Disappointing my feet, they lost their navigation.
Cracking my shoulder into someone shorter.

wind past my ears.
her safety: my worry.

Bent my knees she did not scream
Tree nuts candied in my dreams highlighted her eyes.
Smile, with each other.

Pushing her to stand
I held her hand

Spoken our trips to previous lands.
choosing to be each others


to the others fro
Greg Muller Feb 2020
turn the keys "we will see you tomorrow!"

control the road.
a familiar route.
the same way home as before

meditative in his silence the car tires skid.
authorities would say the rain froze the overpass road

bam, mercy please come for me
into his mind
a goddess was pleased to meet.
whispering hands silver light
had no shadow

traveling without walking
through a doorway made of nothing

to a land attached to creating
re-claiming friends,
playing and laughing once more.
Greg Muller Feb 2020
Forty tears were pooled in his eyes.

A reality of hardship sunk in
Capsizing a boat of fears.

his parents had left him a penniless bloke
his time would be spent trying to stay afloat

The daily news would house all the jahbs
the other families &  friends were pointing him away from trouble

He would meet a new boss.
A stomach never tiring of crisscrosses

When he sat -down inspection began
Was he trusted to be a stan
Finally accepted he began forging minerals

The door closed at the home.
The company issued tools.
Heavy iron forged together with mighty wood.

Clear yellow lights illuminated the mine’s dark

A new spot would be all to him.
He began picking and digging
The earth's rocks, and dirt.

Learning other names was to be his strong suit.
But ability and strength left him with cahoots.

Soon heart's pumped laughs
Sending echo’s down the earth mine's shaft

Curing the ailed eyes
Of a boy with no ties
Greg Muller Feb 2020
One two three hundred of Iceland's sailors.
Leaning on the finance from our big servant

Departure had little fan-fare
But what did they care

A summer’s Blinding heat
A ship loaded packed with wheat

As Night’s grasp grew.
Our maps battery did too.

Leaving tonight.
I kissed my wife.  

Across the sky ten times.
The sun blazed our horizon’s on the same side.

Food getting lighter, our bellies yearning for dinner
Mutiny, mutiny, mutiny.
I wasn’t going to differ.

Two days later. Our top man, who saved the evenings with good chatter.
Gave our crew the word.
Land **, you ***** rappers.

Looking across the sea, putting our withering hands above our knees.
My eyes glistened, had we come to Griffen.

Our final steps, until our land, was pushing forward and backward.
Onboard the land, our sea legs, outstretched our hands.

Aliens, and sailors, leaving together.
What are they saying
New food to chew.

Gave the crew a push to rearrange our mast
Setting sail back to our past.

The cheers were loud, and we are all proud.
As each one of us was the sailor that lead a mutiny crowd.
Greg Muller Feb 2020
Plush cushions for a wood green hut
Indigent, arrogance, and Omniscience

Learned counterpart owned the seats
Grey, humble, Shamen

Pure fear, unmoving in his discourse

Pure love, uplifting in his seat

Time calls for action. Was he willing?

Yes--preparation inside the wood tree hut.

Inside the young man’s mouth
Chewed a taste of bubble gum worn out

For one hour they waited
Sitting comfortably, and waited

Blood Red skinned Demons peel off the roof
Razor Talons swinging
Razor Talons scratching at our young man’s head.

Our shamen waits, unmoving, calming, and encouraging

Inside his breath was a spell.
To calm, and quell any foe.
A cool breath froze the winged *******
Sending them back to where they came

Time passes
A mind now healed like a band-aid covering a wound
His mind was pulled closer.

Our young man returned his eyes to the wood green hut
Seeing the old man, smiling for his own part
A street-wide smile was sent back
Leaving the seat he thanked him with complete
Love for each other, and all mankind
Greg Muller Feb 2020
Metallic hinges squeaked and then squawked
Single sliced rubber seat swung under a lime green bar.
An adolescent boy. Bemoaning his brother’s turn.
Heave, **. Swinging hard.
Capturing the tops of trees.
Leaning a few feet off the ground returning once more with fast pace.
Rose-colored cheeks, squinted,
One tear then two, until both cheeks puffed
Runway skids in the wood chips. Cruised him to a halt.
Sniffles, and tears were handled
Hand in hand
They were scripted together for life.

— The End —