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I come out no stronger
when a poem is all over.

come down to earth on broken wing
words gone dry heart bleeding
with me not even making a beginning!

When a poem is done
it tells me
you've not yet begun
not done your part
and still stuck at the start!


I come out no stronger
when a poem is over.

the mind for sometimes hover
falls down with broken wing
words gone dry heart bleeding
with me not even making a beginning!

When a poem is done
it tells me
I'm left undone
mere ink on paper without a soul,
when one more dream of mine you stole.
Frank Russell Aug 2019
Little Billy said
oh yeah?    wait and see what
i do with sonnets








- fr
Frank Russell Aug 2019
This is my narrative  -
     writing only
     to clarify for myself
     a conception of the world,
     my own self-conception  -
This should hold no value
     outside of me....
Save that all narratives
     seemingly overlap
     tend to meet and embrace
     seek interaction
By some unconscious urging
     or primal need.








- fr
Frank Russell Aug 2019
So we begin dismantling
     and whittling away at
The prime protection
     for threatened creatures who
Share our world  -

As the cold overlords
     have determined that worshiping
The almighty dollar
     is of more value than
Preserving
     the essential diversity and
Divine sanctity of life.









- fr
August 12, 2019, the U.S. Department of Interior announced revisions to the Endangered Species Act for purposes of deregulation and making 'economic costs' the key factor in determining whether or not a species "deserves protection."
Frank Russell Aug 2019
"Shut up!"

Something raises my guard  -
     I begin to bark.
Immediately a human feels
Obligated to shout at me:
     "shut up!"

I'd like to speak your language.
     Just once.  I truly would.
The language that you obviously
Are so very much enamored of  -
     you utter it even in sleep.

And all of your waking hours.
     Talking and gossiping.
     Speculating and chattering.
     Jabbering and yakking.

Talk, talk and even more talk  -
     you must be infatuated
With the mass of gibberish
Belching forth from your mouths.
Morning, noon and evening  -
     through the extended night  -
All of you, constantly talking,
     gabbing, talking, babbling, talking...

And how rarely you communicate
     anything of any importance.

Shut up.









- fr
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