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I’m in no shape to love
give love
take love
make love
so I will go out with friends
strangers
and have just one more
ok two
ok six
say hello to that guy in the hat
that guy with the beard
that guy with blue eyes
like yours
endless skies
and I’ll have one more
to forget
where I parked
take a ride home
take a ride at home
make a mistake
make it again
wake up ashamed
alone
embarrassed
wondering if you would do the same
knowing you already have
given love
taken love
made love
I’m in no shape to love

Rinse
**Repeat
A statue of a man
gazing down upon his empty hands
is all that's left of me.
Anonymous camaraderie,
New friends pour from cyberspace.
Tweets flutter rampantly,
In this most ambiguous place.
Strangers in passing,
Or is it kismet?
Can’t you tell what I am saying?
Innuendo among keystrokes.
And you thought I was playing.
LOL

My world is all digital,
Evocatively simple,
Demanding your principle,
Ingrained as symbol,
A**ll in code.

1/6/2016
The title is the poem concept.  The first letter of each line spells the poem title.
This world is like a cigarette-
The peak of it's existence
Burning bright to moon dead eyes,
Crumbling in after a swift breath.
Why art?  I don't know...
Why gaze at the stars
Why sit alone and forget to feel lonely
Why love without needing anything in return
Why breathe
Why exist
Why art?
The why isn't important
What is important is if you're going to do art
Any kind of art
Whether its painting, writing, dancing, music, sculpting, acting, illustrating...
Is to give yourself to your work
Fall into  the middle of the madness
Drink in all its sorrow
Swim in the infintie possibility
Love the beautiful pain of it all
And then do it again
And again
And...
Do we dare dream to fall?, to fly... to go crashing through the bedroom door
Where we tumble and roll and slowly lose all of our clothes
Lost under the sheets we ride shooting stars
Circle the sun in the blink of an eye
Catch a glimpse of eternity inbetween the beat of our hearts
Do we dare turn the page and find ourselves living a storybook life
Hopes and wishes blooming like flowers all night and all day
And when we read between the lines we find a love so perfect it's almost cliche
If we dare to sneak a glimpse and skip to the last page
Would it be a black and white classic of two aged hands holding a heart that still beats wildly and madly and impossibly in love
Dare we..
No one likes the ******* truth
No one wants to be reminded of
The monster we've let ourselves become
The horribly murders of innocence
The terrible teeth gnawing at the flesh of our own children
The gluttonous hounds devouring nature and wildlife for parking lots and imaginary cures
The ghastly drones of war and profit
Acheving nothing more than an anemic effort at faking compassion
Tragedy after tragedy after tragedy
Cheap paint on posters
Clever words behind "hashtags"
5 seconds of our time
To ease our minds and let us ease back to our comfy little lives
Where we can ignore the ******* truth
As we sip our overpriced coffee and teas with fancy names
Writing pretty prose for pretty things
Soaking our indifference in cheap perfume
As if hidding the monster under our skin
Will erase the world of our sins
So let me write another poem
Of my favorite muse
Her undying beauty
Her vivid soul
The promise of her lips
The heaven hiding between
her hips
How my heart will always
unknowingly be hers
But she will never be the one sleeping
by my side
And I will crumble and fade and my
body will return to dust
As my heart lives on
Being madly and wildly and
Impossibly in love
Because that would be easier
Than writing about the
******* truth
I can't say I don't write, but I couldn't honestly call myself a writer.  I say that in the sense that I have no idea what I'm doing when I write.  I am grateful for all the compliments on my last entry, I almost forgot to write it.  The words were bouncing around in my head as I was driving to get something to eat and when I arrived I had forgotten it completely.  I started drawing while I was waiting for my food and continued to draw after I ate.  Then before leaving some of the words came back and I jotted them down.  They felt... ok?... I didn't perceive them as my best, but I rarely do with any of my work.  And I'm not a critic so what would I know... and like I said earlier I'm not a writer either.  Maybe I just see more beauty in the ugly truths of the world because their more often ignored.  I do belive in hopes, and dreams, and magic, and most importantly love (and I am and always will be madly and wildly and impossibly in love with my favorite muse...) but I fear what the world will become if we continue to ignore the ******* truths...
Keep your body far from mind
the self at the center of all this
in case you ever chance to find
a thing you've tried so hard to miss
awareness always close at hand
but for fear of knowing all that's true
seek it blind misunderstand
shape the world and misconstrue
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