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I can't figure out
if I'm supposed to be
an oddball Eros-laced
poetic artist of sorts

this revolutionary
evolution redesigner
with wake-the-****-up
typographic punches

or a sower of seedlings
via silly rhymes scheming
with wacked-out visualizations
for story-time imaginations
to mold future generations

ideally,
I want to do all three...

praying for the mind
time and energy
to manifest all
I can
Be

(including
rocking the ****
outta this day job
that's molding me
into a better model
who knows how to float
merrily upon her dreams
obsoleting false me)

*happythankUmoreplease
Flatfielder  Nov 2020
Intention
Flatfielder Nov 2020
Questions his intentions
When he starts his battered truck
Ready to take him places
In awe when he realizes
He left
Is it nowhere or somewhere
Forced to judge he is alone
He keeps driving
Enters a roundabout
Full circle on the inside lane
Deciding on an exit
Not now he is playing his game
Indecision marred his intention
Second right for going south
Stop for gas
Back in your seat
His intention is
To be about
Does his thing no frowns now clear
Ready to go
Enters a new lifegoals' pier
(c)near_lane7
Old poem i wrote, now modified

— The End —