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Fullfreddo May 2015
~


not a fan of reality TV,
plenty of "unreal" episodes
of my own direction stored,
available for further review
in the storage units of
neuronic black and white prison brain cells

which is why I have free~will chosen
to enumerate my poem~videos;
for easy retreat retrieval resurrection
of the travelogue of mind own insurrections

a garage of mobility devices,
car, rollerblades, cross country skis plus,
a potpourri of escape methodologies
that by definition are all round trippers,
returned to their storage unit after use

and I count them Noah~like,
two by two, as they come on board,
and when they disembark for days of
rest and recreation


this one, #4,
is born
among headstones,
just anther memory storage unit
specialized,
flag decorated,
but different

This is a one-way,
no return,
unit

but
it can be viewed at anytime
by those who care to be users,
by speaking this:

Read to me poem number four,
on a day we celebrate,
about free men of every color and persuasion,
who are calling out to
open the door to storage unit four,
so we to can perform
our once-a-year
Tour of Duty
to the those who called,
and answered with limb and love,
for by their glory,
we are
free too


to remember in any way we choose



~
memories of a veterans parade,
on a May Memorial Day
Fullfreddo May 2015
poetry composed in perfect silence
for which
there are no noise canceling headphones,
a coachable prevent defense,
protecting my inner ears from hearing
words forced to the surface,
loudly spoken, up floating
to the mind's enraging waters admixed
in the high definition
disquiet of imperfect silence

frag grenades, IED's detonate,
nicknames for the brain's multi-voices,
all argue raucous, unafraid of exposure,
over~shouting to be heard,
freely secure in the silent privacy
of mine owned
internecine slaughterhouse

but what I write down,
is mine to keep...

my home is an isle,
an atom of Earth
split by a broad freshwater river

land spits on Google earth
can be witnessed, seen plotting,
injecting  themselves into
my two~sided, belly~soft
unprotected riversides,
forming bays and coves,
hiding places for
crafty
human devices


my poor mind is my river,
mind the sailing craft called poetry,
a ketch to keep afloat,
while avoiding the backwash wakes
of larger enemy ships of state,
those who gladly drown me
for pleasure
Born May 23, 1950
Recorded on May 23rd
Fullfreddo May 2015
~

I will lay me down.

I will.

Tread on me.

Leave your footfalls
Upon the shoe impressions
Life has already left upon me.

Walk in my shoes.
Walk on my back.

Let us walk together.

A journey marked by follow~me
Impressions of where
One stepped before,
And others, came after him.

Say,
Walking in his shoes.

~
Born May 23, 2015
Fullfreddo May 2015
~

a strange place to start
having not truly begun,
already beat down by the
lowdown

own a million rose colored words,
but some assembly required,
that's when the foreknowledge truth~rules
burns brain holes

easy is never
free,
poetry writing is
cussing hard work

~
spring rains cloaking warmth,
summer's stunning sunsets
demand submissive awed silence,
autumnal leave drops anointing
your refreshed humanity,
and yet,
one more time,
it is only within winter's white bitterness
lip tasting,
million tear-shaped snowflaked words,
is the crowning visible
of the head of
a newborn babe poet

                                        ~                  ­                            

hard.

Capital Hard.

in the beginning,
there was one,
a first work

and the knowing,
if it wasn't hard,
it could not be
any good,
makes it possible
to ease on
down
this fearful
revelationary road
trip
Born May 22, 2015
My first poem.

— The End —