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 Dec 2016
South by Southwest
It might be painful
It might be disdainful
It might be lightning
It is so frightening
Could be the thunder
That has my number
It could be Jesus knocking
concerned about my mocking
It could be my future
or my lack of culture
It could be those fried reasons
maybe it's Jackie Gleason
It could be the hollow
that always seems to follow
me into the night
so black without any sight
It could be a light
from my star at height
tumbling through the heavens
or bread that is unleavened . . .

All I know is it just happened
while I was here just napping
Have you ever suddenly realized a truth that just comes out of the blue .
 Nov 2016
The Dedpoet
What is your reality really?
Is it the clarity of familiar things,
A toast to the success of monetary
Accomplishments that weigh
Just as much as the opinions
Put into them?
   What makes a rich man so rich?
Possession or the value one or all
Put into said possession?
   Is a billion dollars more valuable to
One person than the love one has
For their child? Or is it possible that
We have been taught to value money
As survival in a chasing of the tail?
   I was was told that is just the world
We live in, that that's just the way
Things are, yet the very fundamental
Being of humanity is to change,
The struggle for it and the ability
To do so.
    Yet here we are, chasing tails
So to speak, and the very concept
Of " living a better life" has become
The mantra for the struggle.
   The struggle is within ourselves,
The fact that we are living as a species
On a doomed path, regardless of belief
Or faith, that the end is inevitable,
That we must live a life together
Yet the very success one has
Is set up to be solitary,
It has no bearing on thy neighbor
Because one gathers success towards
Themselves and their circles.
  Is this a preaching?
No, it is the truth we live in,
That we see, that we cannot change.
Why can't we change our selves,
Our greed, our hunger, our animalistic
Nature that has only become sophisticated
In brutality and not shed like history?
   Because we need struggle.
The truth is the suffering in which
We live everyday is delivered by ourselves.
   We have accepted the experience,
That " higher" learning is the route,
And we chase tails.
   What is real then?
Well, that is your perception,
That which your heart tells you is real,
Your reality as a poet takes you
Outside of yourself,
   That lets you see the sad truth of our
Species, and yes, our doomed nature.
   Live die repeat.
Is this a sad rant of a depressed insomniac
With too much time on bis hands?
Yes.
Does it make it any less true?
No....
Why state this if I'm not doing anything
About it.
If you have read this in its entirety
Then I have.
Wake up,
Your world is what you make it,
Not how you take it,
Live free of circles.
 Nov 2016
Denel Kessler
narrow potholed roads
long winding switchbacks
blind corners that lead
the chosen to heaven

the rest of us
sinners

rotting slash piles
in a clear cut
fireweed rising
from raw earth

in this land of trees
the forest is forgotten
Just as snow is doomed in the heated light of day
The ******* is in peril with flooding rain
When screen porches collect flying roaches
just before the storm approaches you will know
Red grip impressions on tender wrist ,
writing objective poetry with a pain killer twist
You will know before I go
You will know* ....
Copyright November 18 , 2016 by Randolph L Wilson * All Rights Reserved

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