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a heart on the floor
blood splattered across the walls
ripped apart by words
 Jul 2019 A Simillacrum
Kanishka
I didn't feel like writing today.
I was afraid I'd say the unsaid.
I dont wanna face the truth,
I dont wanna give up on us.
Why cant you come back to me,
And be the way it's supposed to be?
But alas I'm a poet. I must write.
the oscillation of anger and you
frequents my day my night
my fuel injected gut muscles
my rocking back and forth rhythm
and limbs that squirm and writhe
-pause to drink-
hit and wrestle this day down
and it is up again flinging desire
and **** you where are you
all over the moon and the sun
and this desert of and this desert of
-pause to drink-
enough of my brain leaps out at a thigh
nails on a red table cloth snag moments cause chills
powers flow through my thoughts and laugh
the laugh of old certainty on new foolishness
i am renewed in my stupidity of aim vs landing
vibrating rattles clanking down some mountain cliff
-pause to drink-
keeping keeping keeping
arms in hands close parallel to myself
not, in this case, me not in this case anyone
is grinning and gripping and grinding steps
and you are out there circling something            
with something lit and sizzling ahead no matter ahead
-pause to drink-
i am behind the sound has moved on banging
I once looked at you like the stars looked at the moon.
Feeling as if there was nothing more beautiful than this moment, made with you.
Just as the last of the summer roses died so did you.
Until we meet again I will never give
My heart to anyone
This poem come to me when I was out walking the dog and I saw the moon and a star close to each other.
all my poems are unique general principles

~for Helene Mendelsohn~

“A general principle never comes to life in my mind except by exhibiting itself in various special forms and in
crowds of instances for each form":  
R.G. Collingwood

each a construct - an arch-i-texture,
each a crowd of a single instance
special forum, a dialogue differentiation,
a conjugate particle,
forming up, in marching order,
a singular troop, a base case singular,
a soldier especially demanding,
“Of Me, Write, Write”

for within my insight,
a one-off sighting,
one glinting wave reflecting,
its one millisecond exactitude of existence,
reforming unseemly, a new but not!

a seemingly similar shifted shape,
but no wave is a precision repetition,
perhaps a passing familiarity
of its precedents, antecedents,
at best

an instance borrowed and paid back
to the generosity of time
for a fully developed statement of a
general principle,
even a primary secondary textual emendation,
requires a unique naming definition

being born and dead dying while you are blinking,
does not understate absolute value,
a principle exists to give absolution,
so the moments resets,
perpetually,
but its own resolution is n’err forgotten

do you see the crowd of inferences
herein contained?

the principal unique,
poem plucked from passing sun ray,
a tickling hair of a brazen breeze,
one wave, one wave reconstituting a
millennium of preceding lives,
deriving its abbreviated genealogy
of droplets of prior principles
forever reinterpreted

so I gave you back
words you knew
but in a new combination
establishing this poem,
its constituents,
as a unique general principle

there is a prior poem, new, unique
in everything
7/21/19 10:00 am S.I.
 Jul 2019 A Simillacrum
leyana
I see a girl with an intention
In her eyes I see nothing but tension
So, I walk in front with great caution

She has a cruel heart
Who tear his love apart
Dashing forward like a dart

Her name stuck in my head
I think about her misdeed even in bed
Warning signs I wished I have read

An evil girl
With bad intentions
Please be aware of her possessions
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