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 Sep 2020
Graff1980
I am talking to myself.
Every verse that works
is a conversation
of my own making
with the brightest
fool I know.

Its not so bad.
I am the almost famous
Cinderella man
looking to expand
my influence
over a land.

Too bad I got good
just in time
for mankind
to face the boot
off of this planet
that we abuse
and pollute.
 Sep 2020
Graff1980
This is what we are dealing with
a lifetime of killing it,
by feeling our ****
while others split,

by writing duplicates
of the same poem that fits
with the scheme
we are obsessing over,

replaying the scene
in our dreams
as we get older,
and shoulder that boulder,
such a bad mad monkey
that scratches our back with
facts we would like to ignore.

What a ***** of an addiction
that makes us explore
our pains in poetry,
while others just fall, crawl
and convulse on the cold tile floor.
 Sep 2020
Graff1980
If I am
gonna be better,
I better be deep,
get enough sleep,
so I can go on
working out
to break through
those natural
plateaus.

May take the
longest time
but I will find
the perfect line,
then make up
a better one.

Not gonna
slow my role
or loose my cool
anymore,
cold feet
can hit the road
cause I got
places I want to go,
and while I am
driving
I’ll be learning
things I didn’t know.

Since, I know
this show
will be cancelled,
and this fool
won’t live forever,
I’m gonna get
real freaking clever,
making myself better,
so I can enjoy
this one life.
 Sep 2020
Graff1980
Who wants to go get therapy,
expose all of those darker
pieces that are broke in half,
then reapplied to the darker side
of my glass figurine
that got smashed to smithereens.

Who wants to talk about my teen years
of hormonal chaos that cost me
so many nights of tears, anxiety,
and snot that made me cough.

I’d prefer not to be disturbed
by revisiting the pain existing
in memories I have put behind me,
so, I think I’ll pass on that whole
talking and letting go, so I can grow
and get better therapy scene.
 Sep 2020
Graff1980
I’ve been looking,
through glass windows,
reflecting city lights
of the night life.

Strange phantasms
pass like distorted
carnival glasses,
mind mirrors broken
from the harsh words
spoken.

I’ve been searching,
seeking the smiling hearts
of brave angels
who face hateful strangers
that are full of poison,
and spitefully spitting
sick syllables,
possibly contagious,
as they go
instantly viral.

I’ve been watching
cops stopping
particular people,
seen one to many
real life movies
that end in tragedy,
and in observing
the hurting
of children
and elderly folks
I have fallen
to tears of rage
and anguish.

I’ve been wondering
if in my wanderings
seeing this sideshow spectacle,
of disrespectful,
cruel, and hateful
authoritarians,
have I found the true face
of America?
 Aug 2020
Graff1980
I’ve lost the road.
forgotten
that this life
is rotting,
so I should be fighting.

Never seen
this song I sing,
just kept writing
trying to set fire
to the ground
were lost soul
were found.

Lava like fury
working in a hurry,
searching
for the end
of all this hurting,
whilst seeking the speaking
of dreams
into reality.

So, I am coming home
to a place that never was
creating my space of love.
 Aug 2020
Graff1980
I am so tired.
Can I sleep?
Will they let me
rest in peace?

I could use
a little laugh,
and a couple
cat naps.

Exhaustion
is the norm,
fatigue
fits my
full form.

Like a worm
that works
its way in
till my whole
body is shrinking,
till I wither
and I fall
barely able
to stand or crawl.

Coffee
is a sweet reprieve
but its effects
are very brief.

Can I please,
just go to sleep.
 Aug 2020
Graff1980
I wonder
wordlessly,
wearied
and alone.

Sometimes
I stumble,
a bumbler
who cannot
make his way
back to a home
that was never safe.

Then on a whim
I will catch
a hint of her,
chilling my thoughts.
I will find
myself thinking
what I should not
cause she was never
a healthy obsession.

I meander over
online conversations,
equal tumblr confessions
of our shared affections,
and slip into states of
melancholia love
wondering if
she ever thinks about me,
or if I was just a blip
that doesn’t even register
in her memory.
 Aug 2020
Thomas W Case
My daughter talks to
her blueberries like
they're her friends.
My soul smiles
and I never want
it to end.
my daughter eating breakfast, she's two and a half.
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