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Flaunt your joy
Dig your sorrow
You have only today
Who knows 'bout morrow!
Run... run while you can
before the envelopment entraps you
encapsulating escape with leaden clouds
skies darkened by searing missiles
unburdening caches waiting
for the stirring of conflict
so easy to hijack
as hatred
screams
loudest
drowning
out the pleas
of nursing mothers
as children's faces fend off
old feuds and avarice of arms dealers
sparked by grief over the slaughter and scarring of children and families due to avarice of war
I dream of love
like bankers dream of fees
A song for this:
Good Luck, Babe! by Chappell Roan
You stole a poem from my heart
So now I can't separate
Real life from art
Flipping through the pages
Of yesteryears
There is a special silence
Which permeates

History is someone’s story
The past
Construed in the future
Narrated to the young

Lost in the haze of yesteryears
Flipping through the pages of yesterdays
A soft hum of the past
Into silence permeates
We are in heaven.
almost paradise
Hell was all around and about
if one let it roam.
So we don't and as for Heaven
one must be worthy to enter
it's tiny needle eye
as fat camel enters best
then a bitter unbelieving heart
and critical closed up mind.
Only true love divinity enters.
I find happiness in simple things.
it's found lasting only within
I find heaven in my midst
the moment you enter me
mad in love with me
twinosks Knight mine
  Enter me!
I love thee true
tree of life.
~~~~~~
Karijinbba.
https://youtu.be/jHN3YlNgMbY
Your Subjective truth
Someone else will Not believe
One is right, other wrong
6-9-24
Today’s argument that you believe my way, or hit the highway you’re wrong. So many fallacies in their argument, or lack there of. This is the way it is I don’t have to explain myself do as I say, not as I do.
There is a
screaming
screeching pain
that is so raw.
It's like a
mouse caught in
a glue trap.
It must be locked
away for no one
to see or handle.

And sometimes
on moonless nights
when no one is
around, and the
owls have killed
their prey, and the
teardrops have been
bottled and sold on
the black market,
you may be tempted
to take that pain out,
like a slice of pie,
and taste it.
Be careful.
It may have
fermented and
developed a mind of
its own.
Check out my recently published, Limited Edition book, Rise Up Collected Poems and Short Stories.
https://booksie.chainletter.io/i/thomaswcase888
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