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 Mar 2016 Adam Childs
Mike Essig
An aged man is but a paltry thing,*

Bones awake groaning. Sing the body decrepit. Don't moan, Agonize!
Neurons snap, crackle, plop. Locate head. Try to find shoes.
Dreams dismissed. Day bleeds into sameness. Relentless boredom.
Tread the doomed bog of Old with attentions. ***** traps.
Each step the future. Abandon all dope. Mortality worm gnaws.
Denentiasand *****. Tumorgators lurk. Snappers break hips.
EDacondas slither. Limply. Lungconstrictors hide in tar. Gasp.
Peer through blurry eyes. Portage cataracts. Slow streams drip.
Lust peters out. Prostate yourself. Up becomes down. Flexile.
Shelf life gets shorter. Discard after. Only expiration Dates.
So what if life is ebbing. Reality is an unhappy meal. Ignore.
     Be a clueless American. Slap on a big grin. No fears!
     Pretend to enjoy the swamp of these Golden Years.
~~~<☆>~~~

fuchsia garland sits
rakishly upon a
platinum blonde head
of close cropped spines


sun glints in her curls


SoulSurvivor
(C) 3/8/2014
rewritten  (c) 3/4/2016
Mammalaria are cacti.
They grow in little clumps
which look like heads, or *******.
Hence the name.
My father has several.
When this poem was written
one of them was blooming.
As it is now.
It looks for all the world like
a blonde head with a
garland set at an angle upon it!
So I decided to repost this.

~~~<☆>~~~
 Mar 2016 Adam Childs
Sjr1000
Our love has
become
wet wood
all sizzle without fire
smoke without heat
A cold day's house
without
warmth

Another round of paper
Quick flames and
sparks
Heading no where
except to
silent
dead
ashes

The one last sizzle
of
wet wood.
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