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Who am I?
I’m nice to all,
I’m not too clumsy,
I’m shy but a good guy,
Who am I?

I like to make people laugh,
Even if its at me,
I like animals big or small,
It hurts when I fall,
I know most of you,
Like you know me,
Who am I?

If you know me I’m like a tree and see over thee,
But some of you don't understand me,
I look funny and don’t have a lot of money,
I know these things and I don’t mind,
I love sports ,the most popular three.
Football, Baseball, and Basketball,
I was one of three on my team,
Who am I?

I love my town more than any,
I have a dog Teddy,
I love to cook and I’m good at it,
I’m like you all but I ain't small,
Sometimes I act like a fool in school,
But I still get A’s and B’s,
I've been mistaken for some of the teachers,
I have made many friends,
You always see me walk to school even when it is cool.
Who am I?
Guess if you can, and my name rhymes with one word in this sentence.
One teary-eyed girl*
                             One concerned man
One fairytale
                            One lost cause
One true love
                          **One of those other girls
the blurred face of a ******* a picture of a new york city street
someone too lazy to give her an identity
or someone too afraid to let her paint in her own features
but her daddy and mommy never painted
english majors don't paint
or draw and neither did she
so she was a blur to everyone she met
maybe because she ran too fast
or her steps were too small
her legs weren't long enough
someone should have at least painted in her crooked smile
so i could see it just one more time
under the city lights
and in the blues of the reflected skyscraper windows
You are not a demon nor a monster
but sometimes my mind thinks you so.
I am trying to find myself
amongst the ashes and shattered pieces
of my soul.
They’re crowding around the DJ stand,
Arms up in ecstasy, heads are down in pills,
Decoding rhythms of synthetic sound
Over spilled beer from dented cans,
And the scent of baking soda and ****
Clouding lungs, and blacking minds.

Lights hang low, sweating heat through
Exploding bulbs. The youth press together
In a slave ship of fashion and ***. Nothing
Makes sense to the acid kids staring in
Mirrors, old razor blades
And plastic bags scattering the flood
Of **** and stench, and trailing shoe laces.

Eyes closed, the lead rain of death
Is suspended, as aurora fields stain green
Light and visions of Christ and Buddha
Across whatever is left of me.
Elbows are pressing invariably into my sides,
As drunks and dealers move like cattle,
Farming their wages for one more drink.

How did it come to this? What happened
To the domestic love of paved-over gardens
And standing on sheds? What happened
To the easy sleep, as we turned to dreams
As we do now to habit?
How long is there left to regain the self,
That we spend a lifetime catching up with again?
c
 Apr 2014 G H Goodland
R
You know you're in Love
when you start singing and
making up new melodies
that remind you of her
lips.
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