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someone else's poem and it
knocks you offline for a while
all the thoughts you had wanted to say
a lot more precisely written
from the top of my mullet mohawk
big head, poppin'
in and out of the nearest
******, no-stoppin'
me jack the hammer hittin'
once I got started
that day momma
spit my *** out:
with my father
who may have been my brother
no tellin'
with every authority figure
who had the *****
to try and tell me what to do,
with the man arrestin'
handcuffed around foot and ankles
everyone who had no money,
never knowing the system
from my day of creation
society was rigged:
a bunch o'  twisted ***** *******'
leaning towards the rich *******
making the haves have more
the have-nots fightin'
for the scraps, no religion had
just like a hungry dog
behind the locked barred
four-star restaurant doors,
so, takin' whatever I can
what is left  I guarded every scrap
like it was somethin'
My eyes do not gaze upon who you are
they see the person you will become

I do not hear your words that time will forget
I listen to your heart

When my fingers tingle your skin as they move down your body
I do not feal the scars that life as given you
I feal the memories that you gained in that life

The aroma that comes oozing from your body
is not that of sweat but of your soul

As our lips touch and we kiss for the first time
I will forever remember the taste of strawberries
for it takes all 5 senses to know a person
My eyes to see you for who you are and who you'll become
my ears to listen to your beautiful voice
touch to feel when you are cold
my nose to smell the perfume you brought
and my taste to really appreciate the meal you worked hard to make
it takes all 5 senses to know a person
I'm aware that for a large amount of people 5 senses is not possible and although this poem lead to been about 5 senses it was actually intended to represent that for a relationship to work properly it takes a lot of effort.. you have to be willing to listen to each other, to tell when they need you with out them saying, to appreciate when they buy something fancy, relationships aren't just about *** they are about 2 people becoming one.. If a person doesn't pay full attention to their partner the relationship will most likely fail.... So this Valentines Day, pay not just attention, pay full attention.

Happy Valentines Day
Dad and I had good talks coming home from work at times ..
He would tell me about the day you two met at least twice a month .
It got better and better each time he told it .  I can still see him smiling , talking about your red hair and picture perfect smile , sometimes a tiny tear would swell up in his dark brown eye .. Seems you two met at the Fair back in '58 , it must of been a great time to be young back then .. I'm certain that I feel the same way today Mom , though it's auburn hair and big brown soulful eyes I've stumbled upon .. Hopefully a grandson will have the chance to hear my tale , told just like my Dad spoke years ago , with a tearful eye and a warm , thoughtful smile ...
Be forever watchful for the charlatans , the snake charmers
of certain Baptist denominations ...
The monsters in need of jet airplanes to spread the Gospel of
their convenient , malleable Jesus that scour the Earth ..
They tell of Gods word in privy , ****** the elderly and the afflicted out of every last penny ..
Jeweled Temples built with iniquity , ever reaching for the clouds will find a scarlet termination , an incredible hard fall one day to the cold , unforgiving ground ....
Copyright February 3 , 2016 by Randolph l Wilson * All Rights Reserved
I was pronounced dead at the age of ten while eavesdropping
a conversation from a few neighborhood friends ...
Succumbed to wounds suffered from the revelation of
my physical ugliness in the eyes of others , dropped dead
where I stood , left , ran away and cried myself to bed . Still running in my mind at times ...
I was killed again by melancholia at age thirteen from a lunatic teacher
that made sport of me ... He's a crier so I heard , a freak that would never amount to anything in this world , a runt of the litter to be frowned upon , someone to be used and preyed upon ..
Shot in the head with an invisible bullet at fifteen , called a long haired
idiot by someone very dear to me , a guitarist wannabe writing songs
like all the ******* do , societies queer not worth the dirt between his boots , a lazy ******* with no place to be and nothing useful to do ..
Chastised by acquaintances for not working on cars or hunting  , watching NASCAR , playing poker and drinking liquor with 'the boys' .
... My preference was sipping coffee , reading the dictionary , playing the guitar and taking pictures .. My toys are Walt Whitman , Carl Sanburg poetry books and oak walking sticks for touring my precious Hill Country !
You ******* killed me emotionally but I'm still treading the Earth , I'm writing like a man possessed and whistling like a mockingbird , found
the love of my life , working everyday to become the best 'me' that I can possibly be , watching you beer bellied , obese , obtuse ******* physically dropping dead like green blowflies all around me !
Copyright February 8 , 2016 by Randolph L Wilson * All Rights Reserved
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