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On the backs of
flies
we wait for the
next thing.
Something is
always coming.
A birth or death,
food or hunger
hatred
laughter
love...

Something is always
coming around the
corner.
The Mad Hatter with
mushroom tea.
A strange color of
blue that tastes like
almonds.
A ****** that sparkles
in the night.

Listless mornings
of languid
walks with the
wife in the cool
of the evening.

A knife in the back,
a shark attack,
or maybe, just
possibly, you write
a poem about
waiting for the
next thing.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7tpMDoNXg_U
Here is a link to my you tube channel where I read my poetry to promote my books, Seedy Town Blues, It's Just a Hop, Skip, and a Jump to the Madhouse, and my latest, Sleep Always Calls.  They are available on Amazon.
Asunder
Birds of prey
Hard headed
Gravity
Incomplete story
In need of my
Sweet salvation
I can’t walk
On water
Wishful thinking
Out loud
Ringing the bell
Twelve rounds are up
Spiraling out
Of control
My crutch can’t withstand
The pressure
Like a stick of dynamite
Exploding daily
Fountain of youth
I’ll pass
I’d never wanna relive
All the unbearable moments here
I’ll never drink from the cup
Because I’ve seen more
Then enough of all this
So called life
For a thousand lifetimes in vain
Dead weight free falling
Into flames
Like a bomb
Falling from the sky
Catastrophic damage up next
Would you shield me from
Thee explosion
Before I fall  
To my demise  
Parachute open up your
Door to me eternally yours
I will be forever in your debt
In the winter of
My darkest sadness
A candle glows,
Tiny and so far away.
It gives the darkness
A focal point and I
Struggle my way towards it.

Another candle lights my way.
I don’t know where it came from
But it makes a fearful journey
So much easier to manage,
And I eventually will dance
On thistledown to
The music of the Skylarks
In a sun-filled, cloudless sky.
  ljm
Working to chase the blues away.
Sweep the house clean,
hang fresh curtains
in the windows
put on a new dress
and come with me!
The elm is scattering
its little loaves
of sweet smells
from a white sky!
Who shall hear of us
in the time to come?
Let him say there was
a burst of fragrance
from black branches.
so much depends
upon

a red wheel
barrow

glazed with rain
water

beside the white
chickens
Once upon a time, I scratched out
verses in dozens to a girl over the sea -
O, I was no naif, two divorces

had cooked me down to syrup,  
my heart was leather-withered,
wary of wonderlands and Technicolor.

Yet I held faith that love might
be the blossom and not the vine -
even as she closed her interior doors,

even as we came rapidly to zugzwang.
In a broken green betrayal
I watched Dix Pour Cent for hours,

tried to sell away the lonely murk,
trade inconstant moon for steady sun,
Akhenaten in a third-floor studio

for two and half years of sag and salt.
But as often happens time and chance
hewed new love and now I sit with her

in a tiny theater to see Romeo and Juliet;
Romeo just took four shots of rail whisky
to the delight of the wet blurry mouths

that roar from clay-thick shadows
beyond the clutch-cloth footlight fringe.
After the lovers die in stony Verona

we leave and somehow end up at Stan's,
a bricky subterrestrial parlor where
with cocktails we thresh from our heads

the melancholy of a troubled world:
sirens mourn the mauveness of evening
& clouds are killed, ripped to wisp.
 Jun 10 Michael Rudelich
LL
you'll understand when
you're a parent
— is a bad
way of parenting
2025/094
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