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this fear well known to me,
for my truth is captive held
within, fearing the honesty
that seeks to liberate it
from the cages where it’s hid

lesser my mettle, the truth periodically
spills over. and my fleeing is not
freeing for the fear travels fast,
spine, legs, hands trembling treble
honesty a disease,  never a by your leave,
or a pretty please, just a bandage ripped,
and the skin, rawed from within,
and now from without, and I pray
til the fear in me subsides
Sometimes When We Touch
Song by Dan Hill

You ask me if I love you
And I choke on my reply
I'd rather hurt you, honestly
Than mislead you with a lie
And who am I to judge you
On what you say or do?
I'm only just beginning
To see the real you
And sometimes when we touch
The honesty's too much
And I have to close my eyes and hide
I wanna hold you 'til I die
'Til we both break down and cry
I wanna hold you
'Til the fear in me subsides
Romance and all its strategy
Leaves me battling with my pride
But through the insecurity
Some tenderness survives
I'm just another writer
Still trapped within my truth
A hesitant prize fighter
Still trapped within my youth
Sometimes when we touch
The honesty's too much
And I have to close my eyes and hide
I wanna hold you 'til I die
'Til we both break down and cry
I wanna hold you
'Til the fear in me subsides
At times I'd like to break you
And drive you to your knees
At times I'd like to break through
And hold you endlessly
At times I understand you
And I know how hard you've tried
I've watched while love commands you
And I've watched love pass you by
At times I think we're drifters
Still searching for a friend
A brother or a sister
But then the passion flares again
And sometimes when we touch
The honesty's too much
And I have to close my eyes and hide
I wanna hold you 'til I die
'Til we both break down and cry
I wanna hold you
'Til the fear in me subsides
Source: Musixmatch
Songwriters: Barry Mann / Dan  Hill
not my word juxtaposition,
pleased to still from the
opinion pages of the esteemed
well street journal, on that street
where I plied, played lost some,
won more over the inevitable
longer run

but the phrase oozed familiarity,
we all know the type, the next door
neighbor who stink of shredded
shrewdness under the black slapping
red faced nose a poking, the insurance
salesman who won’t sell u what you
want/need, but the higher premium
is just what you’re looking for, just
sign here

thank god i always wrote poetry so
could not compose with those stains
on my holy souly that would have
****** me to failure as a speculator

no, kept my counsel closed, my enemies
closer, and thank god made through that
thirty year stretch left me with many bad
habits, lying was not one of them, but,
just, don’t ask me for my true name,
and the only liquid I’ll proffer is clean
bottled water
Kitbag of Words Jul 2023
becalm, bestill, bequiet…

yes, a singlet. a singular mannerism
the language permits to adjudicate
the required emphases of the
urgency of a command, plea, a begging
bequeathed bequest and a request in
combination, with one exhalation,
these portmanteau, allinone, smashgrab,
blending of two words, to advise herein,
that we bring our kitbagofwords of
poetry to ourselves in order to

becalm, bestill, bequiet our kindred souls…
Midnight, bright moon,
breeze slightly soothing
the heat of day.
Scent of fresh blossoms
perfume strong in the
garden air.

Crickets in fine tune,
as are the frogs,
performing their endless
concert of night music.

Reluctant to let it go,
the day is ended now,
nearly indistinguishable
from the days before,
or the one tomorrow.
Retired with too much
time on my hands, days
bleed one into another.

What did I accomplish
today? Not much by some
peoples measure, not even
my own. . . But for one,

Spent time with my youngest
grandson, we talked in earnest
of things that mattered to
him, concerns and fears,
12 year old little boy things.
I listened, cajoled, advised,
shared some mistakes and
stories of my own youth. We
laughed, oh how we laughed.

He hugged me upon leaving
with tears of happiness and
relief in his eyes, told
me he loved me, twice.

Just a small encounter,
yet I believe he will
remember, perhaps
even be a little inspired.

For me brief sweet moments
invested, filled with precious
renderings of this wonderfully
special wholly worthwhile day,
not at all wasted, or the same.

As sleep pervades my thoughts
I will recall and cherish his laughter.
Perhaps tomorrow we will do it again.
Passing it on, to those
we love that is what life
is all about.
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