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When it's quiet, except for
the fan in the hall
and apathy crawls across the
floor like a spider
and the enemies are
thicker than friends
and the brain dries up
and the flame goes out
and writing a decent line is
like panning for gold...
Remember
it's a long row to ***.

When nothing touches
you but the rain
and the wind, and the
pain from the sins of
your youth
and every fruit in
the garden is rotten
and you take a bite
just to keep from starving, and now
what you know can't be forgotten,
remember
it's a long
row to ***.

When each pain is new
and every sorrow is fresh with
the opening of the eyes
and
if
you're blind to the darkness
of the world
or
you see it all too well...
remember
it's still a
long row to ***.
Times like these are hard to choose
Who's to win and who's to lose
All depends on what you do
And where you line up with the truth

Doesn't matter where you are
When it comes to fighting wars
Who can say whose keeping score
As we fall on our on swords

Where's the good in all the harm
Brother against brother with loaded arms
Can we not see what's going on
As this world buys the farm

With scissor hands we cut the cord
Without a plan can we afford
To show ourselves for all we're worth
As we fall on our own swords

We unequally divide a fabric torn
With needle eyes, can't see to sew
Would all this change had we known
In all this that there's little hope

As hate and deception bore in our hearts
We continue the fighting of this war
With only one outcome that is for sure
As we all fall on our own swords
 Jul 2020 Diary of the Damned
rk
he told me he loved the rain
the same as i did
what he meant,
was that he loved to watch
from behind the window
and listen as it gently tapped
against the glass.
when i say i love the rain
i mean that the roar of thunder
awakens my bones,
just as the smell of lightning
fills my lungs.
i hear it kissing the earth
and all at once
i can't stop myself
from running outside
and letting it consume me.
- maybe that is why it would never have worked.
Both burning down this blacktop
At times out of control
With life ahead our daily backdrop
Heart to heart and soul to soul

How many miles is not the matter
Or how often we've paid the toll
As far as we can see it's you and me
To the end of this road

There's been rest stops, there's been exits
More than one construction zone
Still you and me in keeping with
To have, to love, to hold

Blessed to not have yet reached our sunset
Moving on these brittle bones
Getting close but not quite there yet
To the end of this road

Blessings landing in our laps
As the windows down are rolled
With hair on top our heads a raging mess
What little we still own

At times heeding signs of warning
Of all life's does and don'ts
We've done it well with the stories to tell
To the end of this road
someday you’ll learn this craft and the  extreme patience it
requires, how to savor a word, its conjunction with the one that
comes before and after, the combinations that make a verse, a stanza
sobering beautiful that it robs your breathtaking sensors, a scar minder to, for god sakes, ****! stop! **** that trip to trite, give us something to shout about
But it doesn’t need
A purpose to read
The natural structure
Is the mystery

A stanza where two minds melt
Certainly words of comfort and wealth

These thing only matter to us
Catch and ride the purposeful bus
Themes and memes of rolling streams
Sleepwalking the poetical dream

If I could only keep up with the train!
Traveler Tim
~My isolation
has never
known solitude.
It was just
blinded
by the light
of truth.
Alone is forever
where I go
to sit in peace
with you~


impossibility loves me just as

much as you, firm as a way unable

to be seen thru--where i was a

wayshower, now i am not.

there lies the sacrifice, held there.

as one world promised to another

undelivered, seemingly hostile as

two broken arms left to embrace

aloneness.

being with it in all its impenetrability--

there's a caving in so deep no one can enter.

except the forgiveness that guides merciless

suffering.

to where one feels forgotten by the world

they so fiercely inhabit.
*What once interrupted a cave's vision come to light.
~Blindness~
sometimes my dreams make a living
sometimes they barely make out
sometimes it seems that sometimes my dreams
are more than just riddled with doubt

sometimes my dreams dream me
that's when i have to pinch myself
is this all a dream or mostly reality
and at what point do i figure that out

sometimes my dreams take a minute
sometimes they go on and on
feels like i've seen it as they all have me in it
sometimes with strangers, sometimes alone

sometimes i dream in slow motion
sometimes i dream i can fly
sometimes it seems that sometimes my dreams
are just a long drawn out dream in the question of why

sometimes i dream in color
though i'm told it's all black and white
and with that being said it's all in my head
as i bid you all a goodnight
I carry around a Phillips head
To tighten up loose screws
An empty bag I keep in hand
To collect all the marbles that I lose

The elevator I'm riding in
Doesn't stop at all the floors
Happy with insanity
Who out there could ask for more

The toys that are in my attic
When they come out to play
Take my hand as we skip through Bizarro land
On any given day

Card games are entertaining
But always over so fast
When what I'm holding in my hand
Is not quite a full deck

Being four quarters short of a dollar
I will never strike it rich
Nor live in the nicest of places
Having a load that's short a few bricks

So if you come a knocking
And find nobody home
I'm out on the streets of crazy
But believe me I'm never alone
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