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Living life is a painting scheme,
Creating colors to cover up the blanks,
Trying our best to break away.
We re-saturate,
The bleak shades of our face,
Replacing something organic,
With chemical compounds.
Suddenly evolving beyond natural gleam,
Distorting to fit twisted cookie cutter shapes,
We execute the order,
Of this lustful modern god.
There was beauty in the earthen iron's shape,
Forgotten glory, bent to grim reality,
Turning away from standing in the looking glass,
Becoming indistinguishable again.
Just because something is unique doesn't make it immortal,
A new idea that becomes a good idea turns to a common idea repeated and dried.
I so wanted to be you
wanting

the rotting wagon tongue the
lunar dust

I wanted your west
your dying towns

the salmon that swam
upstream

and the girl that giggled and scissor kicked
in your drink

because

I'm a poet and what might
have depressed others

was lush and fertile landscape
to me

but when I traveled your America
I saw saw it

through much cheaper sun glasses
the kind

you might buy at a truck stop
or someplace

like Wall Drug
or an Indian smoke shop

with a neon war bonnet
and that

made all the difference
It’s great
that they read us
a joy
when they say
“I loved your
last poem
the best one
today”

We post
and we thank them
for all
that they give
Refilling
our pens
with more reasons
— to live

(Dreamsleep: June, 2025)
 Jun 24 Carlo C Gomez
Cné
From a distance, she gazes with a sigh,
At the man by the sea, a captivating sight.
Lost in thought, he searches deep inside,
For the truth of who he’s meant to be,
and the path he’ll choose to ride.

She lifts a hand, a hesitant wave,
Like the ocean’s gentle touch
on the shore’s soft cave.
Yet doubt creeps in, as she questions her move,
Should she approach, or quietly slip away,
and let him find his groove?

The ocean’s vastness mirrors
her own uncertainty,
As she weighs the risk of reaching out,
and the comfort of anonymity.
For now, she stands, frozen in contemplation,
Torn between connection and solitude’s liberation.
I wrote an abbreviated version of this poem a few years ago and in rereading it, was inspired to add more.
I lay down to sleep
But I’m still awake
The clock keeps on ticking
Despite what’s at stake
My eyelids stay open
As the minutes, they pass
Lying awake with thoughts of the past
The moon fades away
And the sun starts to rise
Now all that I’m feeling
Are tears in my eyes
I never found dreamland
Oh, what a surprise
I must carry this burden
That I’ve come to despise
I tried to focus, I tried to count sheep
But I’m stifled and stirred
Still, I can’t fall asleep
I’m encompassed by darkness
Yet I can’t sleep a wink
I just ponder solutions
Until I’m brought to the brink
To the brink of destruction
Until I get some rest
And I fall into slumber
My mission, my quest
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