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Seashells from Florida
Handmade porcelain bells
Vintage encyclopedias , trinkets ,
ceramic decanters and old mail
The cabinet witnessed Hell , but -
inanimate objects hold their secrets well* ..
Copyright November 14 , 2017 by Randolph L Wilson * All Rights Reserved
I wanna explain these voices to the deaf
If I could just stand in the Sea of Tranquility momentarily ,
searching for my minds bread
I should lose contact with everyone for a spell
I should really explore this heaven or hell fairytale
Write a book of poetic gibberish , put it on a pyre ,
tell everyone it's been great then self immolate
Bite a barrel and ride the light forever ,
**** this world with all its restriction ,
find a path to escape this perdition* ...
Randolph L Wilson 11/15/ 2017
Condensate trickling neath the noontime pines
Tis the very wine of creation
Returning to a famished earth
Soothing the parched , nourishing the ailing -
and the sylvan floor enfeebled
Winter blades cascading from hardwood canopies ,
of every configuration , texture and hue
Madrigalian forest of a thousandfold , songs of cardinal ,
thrasher , bluebird , peckerwood and robin
Hickory , beech and loblolly undulate along -
the carpeted valley in November's artistic implosion
Broomsage under breaths bidding , dancing red tip grasses
and muhly , wild onion and sage in sacred midday communion* ...
Copyright November 15 , 2017 by Randolph L Wilson * All Rights Reserved
What folly , this masterful deception of a life we lead
Bound to government , religion and money
Following trails built by those before us , tethered
by the chains of 'leaders' , our true potential
regulated by the state ,  a lubricated part of the killing machine ,
a three headed serpent coiling within deception and greed* ..
Copyright November 15 , 2017 by Randolph L Wilson * All Rights Reserved
Morning air quickened our skin
We waited patiently for dawn to -
begin
Built fires with construction debris
Mentally prepared ourselves for what the day -
might bring
We slowly peeled our garments as the
work set in , the song of the gas piper
played again* ..
Copyright November 15 , 2017 by Randolph L Wilson * All Rights Reserved
The only thing I've ever caught at that god forsaken pay lake -
was grass carp , a few turtles and a sun induced headache* ...
Copyright November 14 , 2017 by Randolph L Wilson * All Rights Reserved

*** A notorious fishing hole in Central Georgia *******
The Lantern of Jehovah advanced o'er -
the frosted hillside
A million diamond blades of -
grass sprang to life
Brume filled the creek valley
For a moment I went from skeptic -
to ardent believer , enemy to ally
Ravens retreated from their nighttime -
post , the new morn filled with the -
autumnal ghost
Whispers of November grew clearer
I panned a crown of deep blue -
with overwhelming greed
Worshipping the newborn earth with great -
urgency and need* ..
Copyright November 14 , 2017 by Randolph L Wilson * All Rights Reserved
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