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I wait for my colleague at the cinema.
He and I just met at the office on Monday.
I brought up Guys and Dolls, and
he said he saw it on the big stage.

I knew I had a friend.

I think he's finishing his work
on the Miller account.
They tend to procrastinate
their governmantal dues.

It has been sixteen years
since my last trip to the cinema.

My father, Colonel Jim Stanley
of the United States Air Force,
died towards the end of
The Pirates of Penzance...

In the years since I got married,
and Molly has been good
for my healing.

Recently, though, we have
been strapped for cash.
Infants will do that.

Jim might pay, but that's if
he's nicer than I realize.
Just because a man likes a
good musical doesn't mean
he can cover the show.

He is a hard worker, though.
In what little I've seen,
he is fierce and deliberate
behind the desk.

Jim is going places
(while im strapped to the ground,)
but at least tonight he is coming to see
South Pacific with me.

Maybe the cinema will be kinder
to me than the last film.
The father died in a plane crash
and his son, Jim Jr., was devastated.
Water-winds encircle me
(and I do not have control
over Hurricane Despair
as it rips apart my soul...)

Is this all I have left now?
(as I crumble to the floor
that I used to call "foundation")
Is The Son beyond the shore?

Looking up beyond this chaos
(to a sphere beyond the haze),
a vessel broken in the darkness
feels the lights of Heaven's gaze.

And a holy voice (descending
through Despair's eye to my soul)
speaks to me in veneration:
"Master your fate. Captain your soul!"
This poem is an imitation in the style of "Invictus" by William Ernest Henley
Cougars. Hawks.
Purple. Red.
Tonight is the last night we meet.

With two seconds left, I stand
on the freethrow line.

The game is in my hands.
Miss one, and we lose.

At seventeen, my blood furnace
churns relentlessly with fear.

The student body-
heavier than I ever imagined-
is on my shoulders,
like a torture harness.

I feel one mile under water, and
my head is about to implode from
the pressure.

The ball is in my hands now.
Looking at it, my fingers are quaking
and my wrist becomes stiff.
(Remember the routine...)

The first goes in,
and I hear the building explode.

My ears are ringing, as if a grenade
went off under the basket.

Okay...One more...

Time moves like a horse in quicksand,
if the quicksand were cement.

Here's the ball again...
The gym is silent.
(Bend the knees, snap the wrist...)

All I hear is the ball
as I spin it in my hands.
I bounce it, and shoot.

Miss...

All happiness drains from my body.
I feel the emotional sludge
seeping into my bloodstream.

I can barely walk...
My legs feel dead, or sick, or both.

This was my night to be a hero,
but that basketball stabbed me in the chest.

I collapse psychologically.

I just crushed the hopes of hundreds...

Tormented, I stare at the rim,
fifteen feet from a victory I will never win...
I cannot say I’ve felt
That I am myself....

Running through a Hurricane.

Chaos; insane

Living in a Eulogy.

A loss; refrain

Drowned and fastly sinking slow.

Across The Plain

Numbed to numbness....
Void in the void....
Scared of fear....

I cannot  say I’ve felt myself.

Since deep within my core
are subtleties of stately dreams
I have not dreamnt before!

At times I sink down
into the darkness....
Standing in the heavy rain....
Quaking with the fear-mongers....

I cannot live to stay this way,
and so I sing a song...

“Empowered is the man I am,
and anything to do I can!
Come and fight me, agony -
and never rise to victory!
Here I am and here I stay!
Shove my purpose not away!
You shall fall as I shall live
as - to myself - I shall forgive.
Make a martyr of your shrine -
True divinity is mine!
I do not fear what has no power,
and I dismiss you here this hour!”
Amulek and Alma always proselyte amazing;
Almost always after afterlife for the aching!

Big ballin' brethren gettin' bros, and we warn 'em:
Better bring a brave, bold business to my quorum!

Casually we call communities to come to Christ,
creating the cool cats that testify communing!

Dicing up the devil's deeds doing what I've done.
Definitely, dominantly make the devil done!

Eager as evangelists in every single era ever,
ending evil - Make it epic - Exit in the Exodus!

Following forth faithfully - Fast tracking!
Forward to the presence of the Father, fear - lacking!

God given gifts that we got are glorious!
Giving gifts given - Making God victorious!

Hear it high, hear the hype: High holy calls - Hey
Holy Ghost hackin' hell - Holler that you're Mormon!!!

Idols of Idolators I'd incinerate!
As an itching - I'll increase as I'm irate!

Just as I'm justly jukin' through for  Jehovah -
Justly jots and tittles jive in my journal!

K for the kind of King over all kingdoms!
Killer High lightning - He could strike a king dumb!

Let me learn to love the lessons - lively, lyrical;
Light-lifted, luminescent - Longer in the life source!

My mind memorizes Mormon Mastery
Many more marveling - Mimic how I master!

Never not loving neighbors so naturally!
Never not willing - I serve them naturally!

Operating open-minded, On in my residence.
One eye, one heart, oscillating occupants!

Preach of the prophets! Powerful, prophesying!
Ponder on the punch lines given in their prime!

Quit quick questioning quotes from The Quorum!
Quarrel can't disqualify them in the Forum!

Rockin' so right! Rising up royally!
Raising up the righteous in loyalty!

Superficial scientific stabs are spurned!
Superseded silently - Still, small burn!

Teach truth taught till' time takes toll!
Totally takin' charge - Test my soul!

Under one God, united, uncursed!
Unanimously under one universe!

Versed with vice, we're valid and vested.
Viciously vilified - vigor and bless-ed!

What a well word written by a word Smith -
Who wrote it down well without a real writing whit

X's we Xerox, preamble in the notes!
Exact X - Preface: Excitable tones!

Yonder in yesterday: Yell back "Yea!"
Youth, teen, elderly, Y.S.A.!

Zip it way back: Zero days from the Zenith!
Zig and zag zealously zooming to the Zion!!!!
The Fog and fire...

fruitful mire.

The pit maligned.

Who and why?

Wait and cry....

When and where?

Everywhere....

But what a beauty, cause, and duty

to

define or be defined.

Thick in fog of pain....

An Abel of Cain.

Silent shrieking....

Darkened night....

Daunted fright....

Failure great?

Rise and wait?

To make misery, or parody

of

horrors of the conscience?

Ever searing flames....

Our purpose it claims,

scalding to the core....

Rips and tears....

Silent tears....

Scorching heat....

Claim defeat?

Surrender purpose, and concourses

of

able liberations?

The fog and fire....

Fruitful mire.

Rich in power.

Fall or fly?

Live or die?

Fear or dare?

Choice or snare?

The fog and fire ne’er desire

to

define or be defined!
Published poem # 80!!!
A silken comfort to my soul...
“O, heal me with your presence!
Underneath the luminescence -
Grandeur of His Omnipresence!
How delightful and how precious-

is

what, my dear, you mean to me!”

A sweet enchantment in the night...
“O, feel the souls impart!
A rushing pulses to my heart...
From you I ne'er desire part...
Could this be love in truth and start?

O,

what, my dear, you mean to me.....”

A joy of laughter singing soft...
The stillness and the wonder!
Our thoughts engage with hearts to ponder...
of what “man should not put asunder.”
under depths of stars I wonder...

if us

is what you mean to me...

A healers balm upon my skin -
The soothing touch to calm the seas...
“Your searching exploration sees
My heart's yearning.......My soul's pleas...
The heaven here and now decrees

these things

are what you mean to me!”
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