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Bryce Nov 2018
I would ask you to clean your staff
Before embarking,
The plebs don't want to see you
With dirt on your draperies

Give them a show and a favorite name
Give them a home and a place to claim
Bryce Nov 2018
There is a man in the stone
He is grainy and unable
To make out with the sky so moist
And uninviting.

There is a man on the bench
He is on his way to stone
He is a soldier and shoulders high metal rods

There is a man in the church
He is a cockel and a fraud
He loves father god
With all his excess.

There is a man in the road
He is searching for a soul
He finds God on the pavement
And in the curb, on the stone

There is a boy in the building
He is dazed and lazy
He dreams of death
And the bliss that will bring
Bryce Nov 2018
Reaching for cigar
Thinking of home, somewhere else
The planes fly above.
Bryce Nov 2018
Sun skates the far hills
In the center, a rest stop
Left to dry the sands.
Bryce Nov 2018
The tick of toothed gear
Gives handfuls of a surprise
Mike & Ike tasters.
Bryce Nov 2018
Two pigeons
Resting lip of ATM
Nature's kind tellers.
Bryce Nov 2018
Ants along the stone
Up and down on strings they go
Will they ever know?
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