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joe dearmore Mar 2012
The drudgery of not
The travail of unseen clot
A metaphor for naught

There must be a monicker to this lump in my neck
How much substance or material to tell the tale of this eminence fleck

We all pretend sentiment takes form
When vacuity is the fortune for all
Most feel dejected by this thought
I will take my pillow, comforter, and universes call
joe dearmore Mar 2012
So and so thousand of years ago we dwelled, dawdled, subsisted.
Connected by instinct and possible affinity.
What linkage, or seam could be listed?
D.n.a., dreams, common elements in our lunch?

I would like to esteem if we were to meet we would bore each other, and stare at our feet.
I've come to a modern conclusion that we came together through time with infinite cause.
Our gathering however would be brief in nature, because its probable we **** another without pause.
joe dearmore Dec 2011
How can we fail to see the ocean in our eye?
Since our first breath obsessed with death or how we will die.
Lie on your back in the grass and sky.
Fear at the joy you might fall in.
Don't feel absent.
The puzzle piece is passing by.

Let us recall when we were all Kings.
Immersed in the human soup.
Collectively tripping through the daily hoops.

****** forward and look at fool grinning.
Dipped in black, patting us on the back, singing, "We are not losing we're winning. Only the wise justify the pie and tell us we are sinning".

Its at that moment I prey the ghost whispers the truth so it can be written in crayon
When the time comes I will be the hunted. Will I too lie in comfort that every thing is at hand?
joe dearmore Dec 2011
Fear of not is.
The unknown is.
One side.
Failure.

Love is company.
Absence is company.
One side.
Failure.

Failure builds.
The the unknown builds.
Success.
This came to me when I was thinking of paradox. Which I believe is the closest thing to a true spirituality.
joe dearmore Dec 2011
Crystalline youth.
Memories are forced by another.
Pockets have always been empty.
Divine visions shared.
Divine hatred ignored.
Loss.
Fully awake.
Forced asleep.
Following divine bait on a predetermined course.
Infertile courage forcing everyone's hand to the flame.
The end is a prayer.
To leave positive echoes.
This was a attempt to some myself up from start to now. I know its a simple thing, but it just came out that way. I try not to mess around to much from the original idea.

— The End —