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Unmasked the shameful thoughts
Uncovered the cosmetics shades

Before it happens, all is true
Yet, some of the ****** hands
Do some ******* rhymes, for their sake

No innocent can  be found
Land lost its seasons at sometimes
Only until the music found!

Let all those lost, rest in peace
To  find solemnity for their soul.
And for  some living who play their own tune
For you to have, golds of the dead!


Shame on you!
You may hide, but you can't run!


And for us who are awakes
Who been true  to our undertakings
To helps the  lost glory of the kingdom we loved
We can't borrows others time.


It was not  the king, who call for change
Make a great mistakes, It was whom that played with it!
Like vampires who ***** bloods, for ~
~ That Golds of the dead!


Neither, this can be true.
But you can't says,  it was wrong!
For those good lost souls' at peace...
One day, it will sings  with us, for you ~
This, Golds of the dead.!
LIFE IS SACRED, DON'T PLAY IT FOOLS!
  Sep 2016 Doug Potter
Mary Pear
I landed here
Alone
Deposited.

Instinctively
I searched for friendly faces
Guides and teachers
To show me who I was
And where to go.

This body, face and family
Was not me.
My clothes, my voice, my knowledge
Was not me.

I needed help
I was a human and had human need:
Hope,heart and humour were a start.

I landed first on Mars and sought protection from a mighty arm
But arms that hug can hold too tightly and too long.

So up to Jupiter I looked
'Oh father Sky God, keep me safe!'
But, 'Oh by Jove!' The auspices that came as doves
Brought thunder too
And frightened me.

To Uranus  I fled, and fled again as he detested me
And meant me harm.

The weekend beckons; Saturn's next, the Golden Age of Man
Feast and plenty
Five and  twenty.

But no! Move on. The moon awaits
And love and lust and Soma from the gods-
But werewolves howl and madness lurks.

Neptune swims by and draws me in
To nuptials
And I float awhile upon the tide,
Losing myself in another.

Pluto gives me wealth
But rules the underworld
Where wealth can take you
If you bide its rules.

A young man next, so fare of face,an orator,
A man of letters: Mercury, quick silver
Changing with the wind.
A messenger, a vessel merely
He steals and is the God of thieves.
A thief who tends the dying.
Nothing is his or of him; he takes and smiles and moves then moves on.

And then to Mother Earth,
The Titan, Gaia.

And what is earth?
The dirt beneath my feet from which I look up
To the heavens.

My feet are black and bruised
My eyes are open
My toes can feel the grit
I feel the air upon my face.

This now is me.
Doug Potter Sep 2016
Don't talk to the old man
on the ladder he's likely
cleaning eavestroughs

end to end full of leaves
kite string & black
beetles

He may mumble
teetering on the rungs
but don’t interrupt work

he has enough to handle.
Doug Potter Sep 2016
Dark against a glacier-blue sky;
a flying Crucifix silent as a stone.
Bald Eagles are numerous where I live in Iowa.  Never a day goes by that I don't see dozens, if I want.
  Sep 2016 Doug Potter
Katie Ann
i know what i love
i just dont know
where that fits in the world
i mean maybe it doesn't
and maybe thats the point
but where do i carve space for myself
who will help me once i do
and who will try and bury me to cover up the mark i make?
  Sep 2016 Doug Potter
Mysidian Bard
She took the part
That broke her heart
And soon would take her life

But the pirouettes
Help her forget
She's dancing on a knife
  Sep 2016 Doug Potter
unholy ghost
he said,
"please stay."
and so she did.

for a little while.
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