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I’ll continue to tell you I’m busy
As it releases me from confrontation
If I never must explain myself
I’ll stay in content sedation
Maybe if I push you away
I’ll get some sense of salvation
Simply need to escape this
Leave it to a simple serration
Gonna post a few tonight, feel like GARBAGE
my father sat in a pool
of mid-morning sunshine
on the raised patio
overlooking the garden
an open book in his lap
the dog asleep at his side
the lightest of clouds
decorating the horizon
and a whisper of leaves
his only distraction

as i rushed to the kitchen
for a hastily made
better-than-nothing version
of a flat white
that i wouldn't even enjoy
only ten minutes to spare
before yet another meeting
i paused for a moment
to take in this scene
resplendent as he was
peacefully present
behind the radiance
of diaphanous lace
breeze-rippled curtains
suffused with sunlight

a pertinent reminder
of something which
i didn't have time
to consider
there is water
somewhere on my right
i can hear it
the gentle patter
of what must be
a delicate fountain
hidden amongst
the foliage and flowers
of freshly bloomed lilies
or falling from a feature
at the water's edge
there is a far-distant
rumble of jet engines
undoubtedly drawing
trails of vapour
across an otherwise
unblemished blue
sounds of traffic
dulled to almost nothing
a background hum
barely noticeable
even the unfamiliar
shrieking of a siren
as it passes by
cannot overpower
the drawn-out strains of violin
the rasgueado strum of guitar
the echoed stomp and clap of dancers
performing or practicing
in front of the monument
to a public figure
of some kind
that i would likely
not recognise or be aware of
on the other side of the park
a clock tower bell
chimes the hour
two o'clock
setting a fluttering
of birds to wing
chattering on the breeze
the seemingly constant
pattern of clicking heels
and scuffed steps
along the nearby path
tell of an exhaustive
cosmopolitan life
a dog begins barking
as i open my eyes
reminding me of home
My Dear Poet Jul 2021
Returning nests to their trees
Raking the wind for the leaves
You’re too busy to miss me

Creating shadows behind a screen
Stitching seasons at their seams
You’re too busy to miss me

Gathering the stars and their gleam
Scattering fears and their screams
You’re too busy to miss me

Washing winter in it’s stream
Painting the world a brighter green
You’re too busy to miss me

Missing me would mean
taking away your dream
…so please, don’t miss me
Sometimes we walk a different path
Purcy Flaherty Jul 2021
Coitus interruptus, withdrawal,
pull-out all the stops.
False alarm, renew the charm,
that brings the body off.
finding time to let go.
wizmorrison Mar 2021
Crowds are everywhere,
Busy transportation,
It's about to rain;
I'm still walking alone,
I don't have any idea
Where to go—
Raindrops started pouring,
What do I do now?
Where do I go?
My home is gone,
They leave me at six
What do I do in this busy street?
A short tale of a homeless kid in the street.
jǫrð Mar 2021
At 1:01, break

Passed a bit ago, late day

Per the usual
The History: Typical day, always running and everyone else is calm, I'm glad for them.
The only time I'm not stressed
Is when I've worked myself past the point of breaking

Being too tired to feel is my comfort zone
I feel so at home in running around
I don't rest while I sleep
Instead to-do lists and unfinished problems are scripted into my dreams
Using the backs of my eyelids as a whiteboard for tomorrow's tasks

I can't tell if this constant state of movement is Newton's Law
Or a feable attempt to be enough--for no one but myself

I second guess each right answer, every step forward
My thoughts get a racetrack in lieu of a bed

I know this isn't normal
So imagine what I'd do to be in the moment I'm living
Instead of the somewhere else I always am
Mark Wanless Nov 2020
i traverse life now
keeping precious mind busy
between cigarettes
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