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Farmland dressed in crystal garment ,
freed by morning sun
Tall grass 'Wind dancers' promenade  
along the terraced field road hillside
Bluebirds working the wood line witness
the collision of foggy river bottom -
and sunshine
Golden hues , the cry of Mourning Dove ,
seeking the bower of home* ....
Copyright July 29 , 2016 by Randolph L Wilson * All Rights Reserved
 Jul 2016 Feggyr Citack
John
I never knew you to be so coy
You're making me feel just like a boy
Usually you're all out there and that
Attracted me because I'm not like that
But when you tense up and hold me close
I couldn't be more confident that it's you that I chose

How dare you think I'd be that way
Was it something I do or something I say?
I'm a slave to repetition, I don't know why
It's all a competition, I just want my piece of the pie
There's a difference in his eyes I cannot see
the thought of letting loose, of setting him free
enough to churn the stomach, to gurgle, to rile
his ammonic state of mind corrosive and vile

he lives his life surrounded by taunts and mistrust
hiding deviacy beneath lies and thick dust
the remnants of normality obscured but still there
he hears their cries but no longer cares

desperation desperation where hath thou gone
skin pallid upon where the sun once shone
***** cakes the carpet, blood up the walls
bits of babies and adult men strewn through the halls -

[Listen! Listen! Can you hear that sound?
It's the sound of your ignorance, of morality unwound]


I sat down today and looked into the mirror
through a curtain of cigarette smoke,
I never used to indulge in such filth
a fool to sin, guess I deserve to cough, to choke

there's a jittery malevolence within I can feel
with every tickety-tick-tock of the clock something unreels -
a prisoner to the past, I revel in divine incense
of pathetic excuses and irreverent adolescence

he's inside me now, there's nothing I can do
it's the way of the world, my little flower bloom I grew
now I'll nurture it, feed it, watch him flourish
then maybe someday I'll finally be ******* noticed.
Something satisfying, yet so humiliating.
Throwing the perfect left hook, guided with bad intentions.
Feeling like De La Hoya at his best.

No gold medal will be honored for such animosity.
Flesh meeting plaster, drywall cascades.
Cavity made around my insignificant strike.

Such primal tendency, such an angry motive of strength.
A fifty dollar satisfaction that cannot be beat.
Simply smashing something man made, yet ashamed.

In common with a  ******* when it's over, not the great Golden Boy.
With the purity of destruction in my fist, the drywall was my moment.
Innate my primal rage grows, to control it is impossible.

That moment, I felt like I was dancing circles around Felix Trinidad.
Robbed as De La Hoya was, so too was my ego.
But as the Golden Boy, I cannot let this loss define me.
 Jul 2016 Feggyr Citack
John
"the future is ******* freaky",
i say to myself as i'm lying and leaking
as the years have gone by
i've done nothing, my oh my
i don't know what i plan on doing
i have no idea where i'm going
so just hold me close
i think i need a stronger rope
but you outwit that thought tonight

my thoughts take me to weird places
weird faces and distorted pictures of distorted places
i've never been and probably won't ever go to
you smile because you know it's the truth
unless we pick up now and forget everything
we're gonna be stuck in this cave with our aching
and that's no way to live, no, not at all
i thought you would be there when i'd fall
but you only ever knew how to play hardball
but please ease up and answer me when i call
People seem to want
To be desired.
To be chased after.
To be fought over.
To be wanted.
Needed.

I want to be left the **** alone.

And I know, I know this is going to come off as ****** and unfair. But it's exhausting. I am. Exhausted.

Sure, you see the girl being fought over in the movies or being hit on in the bar and it seems almost magical and endearing, sweet and **** and you just want other people. To want you like that.

But having a friend send you phrases like "I'd very much like to kiss you" late at night when they're too drunk to know any better is not magical.

Having men rev their engines and yell things like "You're red hot!" as they gesture at you to take your top off from their pickup windows is not endearing.

Feeling like you owe someone something because they told you that you're attractive is not sweet.

And then being called vain and cocky and a ***** because you're confident in who you are and how you look, that's not ****. Being confident is ****. Being made to feel guilty about your confidence is not ****.

You do not owe anyone anything simply because you are beautiful. And you are. Beautiful. It's not ****** to choose to not respond to someone who is making you feel uncomfortable due to how they speak or look at you.

I don't want to be desired. Or chased after or fought over. I just want to be left alone to breathe. To take a breath. To simply live my life.

So boo hoo me. I'm attractive and I know it. But that's who I AM. My confidence and beauty is not a question for you to answer. It's my life. Let me live it.
I just need a little fresh air is all.
Do you see my eyes
they have swam through pages
and ink
lifting letters and arrows
resurrecting dead words
they have sundered
steel and oil
smoke and blood
all the currents
cannot reverse
and bring us back
to our first path
our destination is
soured by bad directions
why must the past
be so cruel?
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