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 Feb 2015 memineI
wordvango
a whim I thought riding about
how numerous are the title loan places
and we are getting where pharmacies
outnumber convenience stores

I used to see on every corner a bar
or a massage parlor
a fast food place

I am going so hungry I'm going now to
the corner to pawn my ambien
for some food.
 Feb 2015 memineI
AJ
Albany Rosaline Smith.
On Mondays Albany went down to the store to get milk.
Her mother always gave her twenty five cents.
Twenty for the milk,
And five for some candy.
All the boys she passed along the way would tell her how she was
Genuinly beautiful.
And she knew it.
Albany was gorgeous.
On her sixteenth birthday she let Bobby Fisher
**** her under the oak tree
Out back in the feild behind the pond.
"You're something special there, Albany,"
He told her.
She knew it was true,
But it was a nice gesture,
So she let him **** her from behind this time.
Albany became Misses Fisher two years later,
Three weeks after graduation.
It was just the thing to do back then.
They had four kids,
And she was a good mom.
Mathilda, Lizabeth, Marcus, and Temprance.
Three of which were Bobby's.
One of which was the town physician's.
Bobby never knew.
He was a mill worker.
He was not very bright.
But Albany was.
Bright and Beautiful.
She died at the age of forty-two.
She was ***** an killed by the doctor.
He was also the mortician,
So no one questioned it.
It was a small town
 Feb 2015 memineI
wordvango
These reactions are uncontrolled emotions programmed in me algorithms
running autonomously from my wakened head
passion is evolutionary running in my background
I try to reprogram but they run automatically
I tried to reboot but lost my windows key
and tried Task manager to end but
I don't have Administrative Privilege.
Who is this poet?

Is he faithful to his poetry
as good as pretends to be
or his heart is ever on the darkside
nowhere near of what he writes.

Who is this poet?

Is his hat real or fake
he’s weak and easily breaks
he aims only to teach
never follows all that he preach.

Who is this poet?

Is he really that sweet
joyous and good as his wit
does he expose truly his heart
or the real he hides behind his art.

Who is this poet?

Does he have in him
all his painted dream
the lover’s happiness
he does profess.

Who is this poet?

Is at heart he's that pure
what with words he conjures
or all them are just his arty wile
he's merely spinning tales in style.
the lens turned to self.
 Feb 2015 memineI
Amitav Radiance
Take hold of the wind
The wanderlust heart
Wants to go places
A whirlwind tour
Open skies
The valleys
Between deepest forests
Holding yesteryear secrets
Take a whiff
Of beautiful flowers
Seducing the wind
To transport it to unknown lands
Away with the birds in skies
Listening to their tales
The oceans and rivers
Becomes ecstatic
At the presence of the wind
You are the wind now
Rich with so many travels
You have so many tales
And laden with precious aromas
From the Earth’s bouquet
Sneak in through
Your lover’s window
Gently caress her from the slumber
Now that you have tales to narrate
She will listen to you in wonder
Charm her day with surprise
For you had been with the wind
The wanderlust heart
 Feb 2015 memineI
wordvango
come
 Feb 2015 memineI
wordvango
come
          sunrise or
                           shame
come the coldest
            days
                          balloons do not float
on dead breezes or smiles
             
nor is honey sweeter without a sting
            
never does freedom come
           without slavery once          rose buds attached to thorns
                              ***** 
blooms of love always end

                             nature
is that plain.
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