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Mike Adam Jul 21
Kundalini ran off with
Satori and bred
Enlightenment on
Some far-off
Mountain peak,
Which left me,
Empty as a shell,
Devoid of both
Oyster meat and
Pearl
Mike Adam Jul 9
A dis-ease of classification

Category of categories,

And each morning tiny flowers
Open their heads
To sample the breeze
grass
holds the sand.
sand holds
the grass.
have you walked the dunes
hollowed path, coconut gorse.
have you found contentment there?
have you sat the sun, black crow bird,
have you closed your eyes at that
within, enjoyed that
without?
the tin hut is still empty.
Mike Adam Jun 20
Imagine

Origami Swan.


Unfold and
Press-


Hey Presto,
A Blank page or

A poem from
Your man
  Jun 17 Mike Adam
Heidi Franke
Time bequeaths a tune
Folding like fading petals
Butterfly breezed by
Noting yellow roses faded petals leaving life and a butterfly breezed by for a bite
I see wires naked
all machines dancing.
Sociopaths are prancing
I turn my hand around and
all the lines on my palms
are full of ***** traffic.
Even when our lives are sleeping
our souls are slaughtering friends.
Dress in black to pretend sorrow
for their inevitable ends.
I stay in the car an extra moment
and don't turn the key.
in a sepia of symphonies.
my loneliness is your sea.
this morning,
there was a mother walking
her little girl to school
hand in hand,
and they swung their arms
in seconds and hours.
this afternoon,
a woman threw the ball
and her dog ran and chased
dropped it by her feet,
and there was love in them
and she kissed his face
and let him lick her nose
like wet snow does.
Tonight the clouds bloomed
black blood and the graffiti
on the walls of factories had run,
the bins were overflowing,
The train rattled and hummed on the
El tracks, slowly crawled to its knees
delivering me to the busy emergency
shot in my vein and shot in my back.
I don't know
our place in all of this.
city of big shoulders.
hog butcher and this
paradise purgatory.
this waiting room
of fate and throwbacks
this sick bed,
this snow covered meadow
of a blank page.
this black mirror.
I was lost in mutation years ago,
pulling out the wires,
scratching off the barcodes,
turning tricks,
counting licks,
walking backwards
through the
wreath of my own ribs.
holding back something,
maybe complete collapse.
I don't know
if the universe
is fair if you pray
or just persist.
a single raindrop dancing  ballet
   on the windshield after falling,
streaking, blooming in a rivulet
of the God awful calling.
take a breath
and go inside
to my funeral
minister speaking
soothing lies
as they say
their goodbyes
nobody cries.
I found parts of me
inside my poetry
I could never see
in strange reality.
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