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  2d r
She brings me rain
to cool my brow.
And every now and then
she'll spin around
like a ceiling fan.
I like the little dance
she moves to. Like wind
through my window
lifting a white silk curtain.
r 6d
I ask you moon
what good does it do
losing sleep regretting
all of the stupid ****
you did, time wasted
when I could be listening
to the wind whispering
poems in my sleeping head
instead of thinking about
my own death, hell, I may
as well be writing my name
in the water, my prayers
to women knowing they
can never be read, any way
I go, I’ll go in peace because
these words, I know, will be
unknown, so let the waves
take away what they will
let the tide say that I tried
I lived, I loved, I swam
a long **** time; I tired.
r Oct 5
Her words will light a fire
underneath deniers, eye-to-
eye, take on the liars, I, too
have too long uttered silence
while our children quietly
despised us, we, even me
who knew, choked it down
the unclean smoke unspoken
yes, how dare we leave this life
behind for generations to bare
our crimes, and yet they rise
above to breathe fresh air
the clean O2 of burning desire
searing, shouting utter truth
to wake the world, to sing
and single out, to recognize
a lie when it is a lie, FIERCE
like fire, beautifully reactionary
aflame, to inflame, now is here
your time, rebel, my rebel child
fight for your very life, your future
children, species, for all mankind.
FIERCE, like Greta.
  Oct 3 r
She says
you're strange
and I can't quite
put my finger on it
like fog, so I tell her
listen, the smoke
that a poet lives in
is transparent but real
a mystery you can't touch
the wound is too deep
in the soul of the poet
to be excavated like a stone
and polished or broken
like a dark mirror
in the darkest room
on the darkest nights
alone, like the moon.
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