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Finally rain comes
Rivers swell and falls cascade
Clouds cloak the mountains
And in the churning rapids
Salmon shimmer, leap and dance
Another Tanka
I lay on pine bows
Beneath a star splattered sky
And dreamt and then woke
She came to me in moonlight
Morning cast her far away
Tanka
Just today I read
That we are all somewhat daft
Not a curse, methinks
My Vascular ***** to an Animate Object is threadbare.
This Thing is at my center, this insubstantial machine isn't connected.
So neglected, It sits. Fragile and feeble and splintered and split.
And here I will be,
Captivated again by your ameteur refurbishment. You remedy and patch.
But I know what you are. The grim orange streetlamps illuminate you.
And you devour.
And I drown and I loose my breath as I give in and I am absorbed completely.
Soggy, damp, and oh, so obsessed.
And as expected, nothing tangible remains, just a wreched spectre, a terrible being. Not an animate.
My Vascular ***** will sit and stare and will remain threadbare.
A new day dawns bright
I sip cold and golden air
Contented to be
I write better as a broken vessel
Spilling over my own inadequacies tumbling through the what ifs
And how comes, getting lukewarm and numb
Over the disenchantments of life and slowly
Switching sides and catching rides
To where its dark and admitting in quietly ushered
Murmurs that it’s left its mark. Stronger than a water,
Hesitant to admit while I  reminisce over brands
That’s burnt delicate lines in the skin on my hands,
Reminding me of my past while I build my future,
Grasping at shadows and stacking over the quivering edge
Of all the things I have left unsaid,piled high to seal tightly
With all the promises I kept, made columns out of those I loved
Then fell apart at there loss, when they left I wept, swept
Nice and clean by the words I said but didn't mean.
I live better tearing at the seems,
With screams gushing over while words bubble and steam.
I hoped a lot harder when I still believed in dreams and .
I hold up more rubble when I’m sensing something shifting
When I know I’m in trouble, and there’s no reason
To hold spasmodic thoughts hostage for a chance
At remaining on course, reasonable and on topic,
You can’t be expected to stop it if you don’t want it,
Plus I’m a better writer when the stakes are higher,
And my heart is racing keeping pace with the keys I press
Relieving stress in the small space between shift keys,
Nothing like poetic word ***** to put you at ease,
I just pray the release provides me the relief that I need
to close the windows to my soul and cling to some sleep.
The nail that sticks up
Gets hammered down, flush and tight
But the floor still creaks
No shandy drinking
Ivory tower pedants
Will dictate to me
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