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Pauper of Prose Aug 2018
She said with much respect
The memories of us were like Marie Antoinette
I imagine she smothered their screams
Before leading them to the Guillotine
Guiltless and why shouldn't she be
She wants change, revolutionary
So long live her new Nation State!
And no, know, it doesn’t bother me
I’ll simply change my foreign policy
Pauper of Prose Aug 2018
When the moth no longer meditates on the cloth
When the fish fails to flit when it’s caught
When the calling crickets lose the will to whip up noise
When the eagle’s eagerness is evaporated along with poise
When all of nature neglects itself, adrift on its track
You’ll know for sure those feelings aren’t coming back
When that spark flickers feebly before flailing out
Pauper of Prose Aug 2018
Stories browsed by the bedside of budding of children
Told of all the adventure that awaited us
So I ran amok with my compatriots
Every one of us wreathed in youth
Burning with the boundless fuel
Of curiosity
From the streets spilled opportunities
Of Fame, Of Wealth, Of Love
Then eventually the Sun rays Bent
Before bleeding upon the stone
So that we traversed on bricks of yellow
Until sore legs led us
To an enchanted emerald mirror
And as we stared we began to wheeze
Seeing a frail old wizard or witch
Wondering “why” with a whimper
As curtains cradling clocks, crash upon us
An Ode to Oz an Ode to Youth
Pauper of Prose Aug 2018
What if the Sphinx ran out of riddles?
Or more pointedly put
Grew resigned of the many that stood before it
Those stuttering in fear
Or those too clever to stick around and converse
What if the Sphinx
Finally shifted its gilded gaze
Unto itself, realizing
Its vast intellect was stifled and stuffed
Into the gaudy an unappealing role
Of an obstacle
Stagnant
How its glittering streams of bright consciousness
Would twist downward into the deepest drain
And the Sphinx thus thoroughly empty
May content itself
To pick up a phone
And shuffle in silence
Searching in-between buffers
Alone
Like the rest of us
Pauper of Prose Aug 2018
Solid Sapphire mined on foreign soil
Is broken and scattered upon your dress
As you accompany your friends to a ball
Flaunting emeralds in your ears
The music spins and you shimmer
Growing brighter at times then dimmer
All the while you search for another person
So that you can form a pair
Like two perfect rhymes
Dancing within a madness,
Of uneven melody
Pauper of Prose Aug 2018
When every pristine picture
With every serene scent
Alongside the most melodic melodies
Joined by teasing, titillating touches
Converge along one path,
Each from a different den
Behold, four fearsome horsemen
Galloping faster than the most energized dart
Towards one defenseless unsuspecting heart
Pauper of Prose Aug 2018
As I scale the *****
I note the melody of the wind
With its sweeping symphonic shifts
My nails grind against granite
Before flaking and falling into the abyss
Yet I persist
Upward along the lone path
Where the air recedes like tides
And frost forms fellowship upon my eyes
Before seeking to turn my sore limbs, frigid
Icily assuring each ache is anchored in anxiety
Which stems from the worn clothes of society
Yet as I climb, the fabric is discarded
Like old styles of yesteryear
Now basking in all my naturalness
I finally summit, my thoughts thankfully descend
My heart lifts up its scepter and then my chin
Beating with Brilliance it grins
Furls up it sleeves and wordlessly begins
The work of healing from within
And aren't we awash in fear when we receive our climbing gear
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