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Laughter and Loneliness
Fill the streets of towns
Some cuddle in comfort
Or
Linger on the lone ledge
And these events are caused by
Those that bury their heart in others
Those that bury their heart in emptiness
But remember
We all must carry shovels
So don’t mind the blisters
Or the uneven handle
Or the dulling of such a tool
For we can dig ourselves
Into anything
And out of everything
Happy pre-V-Day to every soul slotted into every conceivable condition....
Lifted from the river of routine
Wring from me, the wetness of weary
Let me dry upon the soil of desire
I stand in fields formed by the fantastic
On each vine I spy
Time growing ripe and restless
Hearts swelling in soft feeling
Laughter long and lasting
And everything is in abundance
So I ****, pluck, pick
Accumulating these unclaimed riches
And bottle them into wine
A thousand bottles I store
Then the fine liquid touches my tongue
Delight dances upon the taste buds
And I’m wealthy, in love, in time, in laughter
For years I do this
Learning nothing new or worthy
Banning all knowledge
For even a single frayed book
Could disturb
All of this
Bliss
Though the Isle may be different for each person, we escape there all the same..
Ancient Seat of Versailles
Sweet shimmering palace
Place of majestic mirrors
Reflect the grand beauty you store
So that each vision
Is distorted and deformed
Yet still retains the brilliance
Of picturesque perfection
Like Capitalism unsoiled
Or Socialism Unspoiled
A duet of ideas
Promising the good life
The great life
Heaven, before it was hardened
By revolutionaries of reality
Sappho supports thy serene crown....
What of the young Donna
Reclining with book in hand
A sigh circling her lips
A glaze greeting her gaze
Her thoughts bored of days
Endless days
Depthless days
Where every voice and all actions
Are slowly stewed
In rich stock of routine
And people arrive, bowls in hand
Forming long, bending lines
Like the Depressions of old
Where defeat, distrust, damage
Linger and lay
Within the sleepless eyes of many
Inspired by the painting A Decadent Girl by
Ramon Casas
A lone tree languished
In the world’s oldest
Forest
It being the first
Tree whose branches
Had been butchered for a book
Creating clean, crisp, pages
And how the tree moaned
It’s voice infecting the wind
Howling throughout the night
And lingering on into the day
Causing the others trees to shun it
They were content to merely sway
In the breeze
Or basking in high noon
Concerned with nurturing
Their own nutrients,
Their sap preserving their old ways
Until the first library
First bookstore
First College
Came to claim them all
My gaze remains unrequited
Yet I spy smooth skin without ripples
The smile that arrives when you wave
Your hair that flows about in currents
Yet my gaze remains like statues
My passion seated in cement
Seeing what moves others but remaining still
And how the others, for you fall
As you come and then take leave
With amber eyes a flush in autumn
Yet my butterflies have been grounded
My stomach suspending their flights
So that emotional baggage is delayed
Pauper of Prose Dec 2018
On park benches next to the elderly wise
In the library where the University lies
At seminars hosted outside for free
Or lecture halls with Professors facing me
In all these lands
My mind expands
For,
I lean in to learn where wisdom won it's wreath
And come away with a sword that knows no sheath
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