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I S A A C May 22
unique and divergent
unearthing the curses
i am to be studied
omnipresent burdens
burning at both ends, keep working
keep hurting, keep turning
the pages of the holy book
hoping nobody looks
when a single tear spills down my cheek
florescent fish flustered by the hook
JAM Jul 2022
They call me Racer Steven
this is my car, sky-blue,
I haven’t raced in a long time, maybe too long
I just gotta concentrate, can’t get distracted
I want them to know me as:

The man who went fast enough

On a cobweb afternoon
In a room full of emptiness
By a freeway I confess
I was lost in the pages
Of a book full of death
Reading how we'll die alone
And if we're good, we'll lay to rest
Anywhere we want to go

At slow speed we all seem focused
In motion we seem wrong
In summer we can taste the rain

Two can play this game
We both want power
In winter we can taste the pain

I want you to be free
Don't worry about me

Coming out to the light of day
We got many moons that are deep at play
So I keep an eye on the shadow's smile
To see what it has to say
You and I both know
Everything must go away
Ah, what do you say?
Spinning knot that is on my heart
It's like a bit of light and a touch of dark
You got sneak attacked from the zodiac
But I see your fire spark
Eat the breeze and go
Blow by blow and go away
Oh, what do you say?

Wish we could turn back time
To the good old days
When our momma sang us to sleep
But now we're stressed out

We used to play pretend,
give each other different names
We would build a rocket ship
and then we'd fly it far away
Used to dream of outer space,
but now they're laughing at our face saying
"Wake up, you need to make money"

you don't know my mind
You don't know my kind
Dark necessities are part of my design and
Tell the world that I'm falling from the sky
Dark necessities are part of my design

Now I'm having trouble trying to sleep
I'm counting sheep but running out
As time ticks by, still I try
No rest for crosstops in my mind

And with the early dawn
Moving right along
I couldn't buy an eye full of sleep
And in the aching night under satellites
I was not received

My eyes feel like they're gonna bleed
Dried up and bulging out my skull
My mouth is dry, my face is numb
****** up and spun out in my room

Built with stolen parts
A telephone in my heart
Someone get me a priest
To put my mind to bed
This ringing in my head
Is this a cure or is this a disease?

My mind is set on overdrive
The clock is laughing in my face
A crooked spine, my senses dulled
Past the point of delirium
On my own, here we go

Nail in my hand
From my creator
You gave me life
Now show me how to live

And in the after birth
On the quiet earth
Let the stains remind you
You thought you made a man
You better think again

Before my role defines you

you don't know my mind
You don't know my kind
Dark necessities are part of my design and
Tell the world that I'm falling from the sky
Dark necessities are part of my design

Breathing in the dark, lying on its side

The ruins of the day painted with a scar

And the more I straighten out, the less it wants to try

The feelings start to rot, one wink at a time

forgiving who you are, for what you stand to gain
Just know that if you hide, it doesn't go away
When you get out of bed, don't end up stranded
Horrified with each stone on the stage, my little dark age

In your house, I long to be
Room by room, patiently
I'll wait for you there
Like one of those stones
I'll wait for you there

And on my deathbed I will pray
To the gods and the angels
Like a pagan to anyone
Who will take me to heaven
To a place I recall
I was there so long ago
The sky was bruised
The wine was bled
And there you led me on

My life's a bit more colder
Dead wife is what I told her
Brass knife sinks into my shoulder
Oh babe, don't know what I'm gonna do

I see my red head, messed bed, tear shed, queen bee, my squeeze
The stage it smells, tells
Hell's bells, miss-spells, knocks me on my knees
It didn't hurt, flirt, blood squirt, stuffed shirt, hang me on a tree
After I count down three rounds, in Hell I'll be in good company

It doesn't matter what they say
So long as they sing with inflection
That makes you feel they'll convey
Some inner truth or vast reflection
But they've said nothing so far
And they can keep it up for as long as it takes
And it don't matter who you are
If they’re doing their job then it's your resolve that breaks

Because the Hook brings you back
I ain't tellin' you no lie
The Hook brings you back
On that you can rely

No matter how much Peter loved her
What made the Pan refuse to grow

Was, that Hook brings you back

I was lying on the grass on Sunday morning of last week
Indulging in my self-defeat
My mind was thugged all laced
and bugged all twisted wrong and beat
Uncomfortable in three feet deep
Now the fuzzy stare from not being there
on a confusing morning week
Impaired my tribal lunar-speak
And of course you can't become
if you only say what you would have done
So I missed a million miles of fun

What you don't know won't hurt you
Ignorance is bliss
I'm a happy idiot
Waving at cars
I'm gonna bang my head to the wall
'Til I feel like nothing at all
I'm a happy idiot
To keep my mind off you
Stuck in a daze and I've lost my mind
I don't wanna stay
Where the blame's all mine

In our short years, we’ve come a long way
To treat it bad and throw it away
I want you to be free
Don't worry about me
And just like the movies
We play out our last scene

You won't cry, I won't scream

In our short years we’ve come a long way
To treat it bad and throw it away
And if we make a little space
A science fiction showcase
In our short film, a love disgrace
Dream a scene to brighten face
In our short years we’ve come a long way
To treat it bad, just to throw it away

No matter how much Peter loved her
It’s what made the Pan refuse to grow

Patience, shadow. While you're sick, there's no sight to see.
Little shadow, little shadow.
To the night, will you follow me?
Pardon, shadow, hold on tight to your darkened key.
Little shadow, little shadow.
To the night, will you follow me?
Closer, shadow, volume strikes, still we're cut free
of this song, little shadow
To the night, will you follow me?
Hey, shadow, stars, break of dawn, take a turn for stars, to my fantasy
Little shadow, to the night, will you follow me?

Sheets of empty canvas
Untouched sheets of clay
Were laid spread out before me
As her body once did
All five horizons
Revolved around her soul
As the earth to the sun
Now the air I tasted and breathed
Has taken a turn
Oh and all I taught her was everything
Oh I know she gave me all that she wore
And now my bitter hands
Chafe beneath the clouds
Of what was everything
Oh the pictures have
All been washed in black
Tattooed everything

I'm left wondering, had i had
some better sounds no one's ever heard
had i had a better hand that wrote some better words
had i had found some verses in an order that is new
had i hadn't had to rhyme every time I wrote
Had i been told that i'd get older,
maybe all my fears would shrink
But now I'm insecure, and I care what people think

I take a walk outside
I'm surrounded by
Some kids at play
I can feel their laughter
So why do I sear
Oh, and twisted thoughts that spin
Round my head
I'm spinning
Oh, I'm spinning
How quick the sun can drop away

Stuck in the shade
Where there's no sunshine
I don't wanna play
With them other kids in the sun

When we were young, the future was so bright
The old neighborhood was so alive
Was gonna make it big and not be beat
Now the neighborhood's cracked and torn
The kids are grown up, but their lives are worn
How can one little street swallow so many lives?

Chances thrown
Nothing's free
Longing for what used to be
Still it's hard, hard to see
Fragile lives
Shattered dreams
Oh the kids aren’t alright

**** it in **** it in **** it in
If you're Rin Tin Tin or Anne Boleyn
Make a desperate move or else you'll win
And then begin
To see
What you're doing to me this MTV is not for free
It's so PC it's killing me
So desperately I sing to thee
Of love
Sure but also of rage and hate and pain and fear of self
And I can't keep these feelings on the shelf
I've tried well no in fact I lied
Could be financial suicide but I've got too much pride inside
To hide or slide
I'll do as I'll decide and let it ride until I've died
And only then shall I abide this tide
Of catchy little tunes
Of hip three minute diddys
I wanna bust all our balloons
I wanna burn all our cities to the ground
I've found
I will not mess around
Unless I play then hey
I will go on all day. Hear what I say
I have a prayer to pray
That's really all this was

And now my bitter hands
Cradle broken glass
Of what was everything
All the pictures have
All been washed in black
Tattooed everything
All the love gone bad
Turned my world to black
Tattooed all I see
All that I am
All that I'll be

I know someday you'll have a beautiful life
I know you'll be a star
In somebody else's sky
But why
Why can't it be
Oh can't it be mine

I've got one more chance to say I'm sorry
And I can't believe a lie
Say you need me

Wave the white flag
I surrender, I surrender, I surrender

I'm gonna need someone to help me
I'm gonna need somebody's hand
I'm gonna need someone to hold me down
I'm gonna need someone to care
I'm gonna writhe and shake my body
I'll start pulling out my hair
I'm going to cover myself with
The ashes of you and nobody's gonna give a ****

Do you have the time to listen to me whine
About nothing and everything all at once?
I am one of those
Melodramatic fools
Neurotic to the bone
No doubt about it

Now for seventeen years I've been throwing them back
Seventeen more will bury me
Can somebody please just tie me down
Or somebody give me a ******* drink

Sometimes I give myself the creeps
Sometimes my mind plays tricks on me
It all keeps adding up
I think I'm cracking up
Am I just paranoid
Or am I just ******?

My heart was breaking,
hands are shaking,
bugs are crawling all over me
My heart was breaking,
hands are shaking,
bugs are crawling all over me

I went to a shrink
To analyze my dreams
She says it's lack of freedom that's bringing me down
I went to a *****
She said my life's a bore
So quit my whining 'cause it's bringing her down

Give me a drink
One more night
This can't be me
If I can't get clean
I'm gonna drink my life away

And she’s in the back singing:

“He doesn't know, just how I feel
He don't seem to care
But my love is real
Lonely is the night
Wanting him to hold me tight
Deep shadows surround me
Nobody knows
The trouble I have with my man
Nobody cares
They just don't seem to understand
But it's time they found out
What true, true, true love is all about
Deep shadows surround me
Oh yes, oh yes they do”

Hey, my name's Blurryface
and I care what you think
In your house, I long to be
Room by room, patiently
I'll wait for you there
Like all those stones
I'll wait for you there

And in your welcoming hands
I will land, and roll out of my skin
And in your final hours I will stand

lost in the pages
Of a book full of death
I'll pick it up like a paperback
With the track record of a maniac

And on I’ll read,
just fast enough,
Until the day is gone
And sit in regret
Of all the things I've done
For all that I've blessed
And all that I've wronged
In dreams until my death
I will wander on

the man who went fast enough
meeting men
was always that easy.

it was evident
     in the way I
     plan to prepare myself

to venture out
     in the uncertainty of the open

trying to align
the inevitable disappointment
        on my self-predicament.

the way I trace
        the marks of ugly, visibly seen
onto my body

hoping that someone
               would like the art;
                the interpretation
of my
               flaws and sad beauty.

it was always easy
     to try calming the nerves
as I knock at his door, the pounding
of my heart
     from excitement, fear
     and self-loathing

as soon as the eyes
of the outside world cannot see
what lies
           behind these walls
that covers
            not only our fragile bodies,
            but also, our weakened souls
till everything is a blur.

meeting men was always
                 that easy.

it's the same thing
       as we put back our clothes
and maybe,
       kiss goodbye

then run away, with such bliss
          from the thrill of doing
what others can do freely

by the pulsing adrenaline
             panicked, weary
if anyone saw
             what we have done.


meeting him again?
                 that's the hard part.
Michael R Burch May 2020
Sandy Hook Call to Love
by Michael R. Burch

Our hearts are broken today
for our children's small bodies lie broken;
let us gather them up, as we may,
that the truth of our Love may be spoken;
then, when we have put them away
to nevermore dream, or be woken,
let us think of the living, and pray
for true Love, not some miserable token,
to command us, for strength to obey.

The first line in the poem above came from President Obama’s speech in which he wiped away tears as he discussed the Sandy Hook killings.


For a Sandy Hook Child, with Butterflies
by Michael R. Burch

Where does the butterfly go
when lightning rails, when thunder howls,
when hailstones scream while winter scowls
and nights compound dark frosts with snow?
Where does the butterfly go?

Where does the rose hide its bloom
when night descends oblique and chill
beyond the capacity of moonlight to fill?
When the only relief's a banked fire's glow,
where does the butterfly go?

And where shall the spirit flee
when life is harsh, too harsh to face,
and hope is lost without a trace?
Oh, when the light of life runs low,
where does the butterfly go?


Sandy Hook Call to Action
by Michael R. Burch

We see their tiny coffins
and our hearts break,
so we ask the NRA―
"Did you make a mistake?"
And we vow to save the next child
for sweet love's sake,
but also to protect ourselves
from enduring such heartache.


I dedicate my poems to the victims ― may they rest in peace ― and I urge all Americans to act now, before the next massacre. If we don't, our loved ones will remain continually at risk:

Epitaph for a Sandy Hook Child
by Michael R. Burch

I lived as best I could, and then I died.
Be careful where you step: the grave is wide.


This poem is for mothers who lost children at Sandy Hook, and in other similar tragedies ...

by Michael R. Burch

How can she bear her grief?
Mightier than Atlas, she shoulders the weight
Of one fallen star.


Shooting Gallery
by Michael R. Burch

If we live by the rule of the gun
what can a small child do,
but run?


Sixteen of the students who died at Sandy Hook were six years old; the other four students were seven. I wrote the poem below for another child gunned down by a madman. While we cannot legislate sanity, we can be sane enough to legislate away the "right" of serial killers to purchase assault weapons so easily. We can defend many small victims from such carnage, if "we the people" have the wisdom and the will to defend them.

Child of 9-11
by Michael R. Burch

a poem for Christina-Taylor Green, who was born
on September 11, 2001 and died at the age of nine,
shot to death ...

Child of 9-11, beloved,
I bring this lily, lay it down
here at your feet, and eiderdown,
and all soft things, for your gentle spirit.
I bring this psalm ― I hope you hear it.

Much love I bring ― I lay it down
here by your form, which is not you,
but what you left this shell-shocked world
to help us learn what we must do
to save another child like you.

Child of 9-11, I know
you are not here, but watch, afar
from distant stars, where angels rue
the brutal things some mortals do.
I also watch; I also rue.

And so I make this pledge and vow:
though I may weep, I will not rest
nor will my pen fail heaven's test
till guns and wars and hate are banned
from every shore, from every land.

Child of 9-11, I grieve
your tender life, cut short ... bereaved,
what can I do, but pledge my life
to saving lives like yours? Belief
in your sweet worth has led me here ...

I give my all: my pen, this tear,
this lily and this eiderdown,
and all soft things my heart can bear;
I bear them to your final bier,
and leave them with my promise, here.


US or Them?
by Michael R. Burch

The NRA wants money in the till,
thus Adam Lanza had a license to ****.
Our government’s the serial killer’s shill
and will be, unless WE express OUR will
and vote to save our children from Boot Hill.


This haiku below makes me think of the students and teachers of Sandy Hook, who were trapped in a war zone:

stood at the end of the hall
in the long shadows
―original haiku by Watanabe Hakusen, translation by Michael R. Burch


Piercing the Shell
by Michael R. Burch

If we strip away all the accouterments of war,
perhaps we'll discover what the heart is for.

It seems to me that the NRA has declared a war ― an open season ― on our children, by insisting that assault weapons must be available to every Tom, **** and ***** Harry. But what will we, the people, say and do?


by Michael R. Burch

Something inescapable is lost―
lost like a pale vapor curling up into shafts of moonlight,
vanishing in a gust of wind toward an expanse of stars
immeasurable and void.

Something uncapturable is gone―
gone with the spent leaves and illuminations of autumn,
scattered into a haze with the faint rustle of parched grass
and remembrance.

Something unforgettable is past―
blown from a glimmer into nothingness, or less,
and finality has swept into a corner where it lies
in dust and cobwebs and silence.


Frail Envelope of Flesh
by Michael R. Burch

Frail envelope of flesh,
lying cold on the surgeon’s table
with anguished eyes
like your mother’s eyes
and a heartbeat weak, unstable ...

Frail crucible of dust,
brief flower come to this―
your tiny hand
in your mother’s hand
for a last bewildered kiss ...

Brief mayfly of a child,
to live six artless years!
Now your mother’s lips
seal up your lips
from the Deluge of her tears ...


Here are tribute poems for exceptional children who should be alive today:

Emilie Parker,
the horror grows starker
as we see your sweet image
and cringe at the carnage;
but dear, how you mesmerize
with those vivid blue eyes
and death cannot sever
our hearts from you, ever.


Dylan Hockley,
a blue-eyed "gorgeous boy,"
was super beyond
death's power to destroy.


Jack Pinto,
who idolized the New York Jets' Victor Cruz,
is now Cruz's hero
and neither can lose.


Grace Audrey McDonnell,
our "beautiful, sweet little girl,"
wherever you are now,
there's a far brighter world.


Avielle Richman
had a "spirit that drew people in"
(and an infinitely knowing
and cheeky grin!).


Noah Pozner,
"extremely bright"―
your mind and your smile
both exuded light.


Jessica Rekos,
a "creative, beautiful little girl"
who loved horses,
are you now riding Pegasus
down heaven's courses?


Benjamin Wheeler,
"an irrepressibly bright and spirited boy"
had brown, soulful eyes
and a spirit no killer can destroy.


Ana Marquez-Greene,
as sweet a child as we've seen,
you "beat us all to paradise."
Was it because you were so very nice?


Charlotte Bacon,
our love for you is unshaken;
as you "lit up all rooms" down here
you now illuminate heaven, dear.


Daniel Barden, his family's light,
once brightened this earth, and now brightens heaven―
not a bad trick for a boy who's just seven!


Olivia Engel,
your only possible crime (I've been told)
was "being a wiggly, smiley six-year-old!"


Allison Wyatt,
so shy, so sweet, so caring,
loved to garden with her mother.
Six pink candles, then an eternity of sharing.


Catherine Violet Hubbard
when you were here
the cupboard
of life
was never bare,
but full of light
and your electric hair!


Josephine Gay
had just turned seven;
now she will always be
"a lovely part of heaven."


Caroline Previdi,
"sweet, precious little angel,"
we fondly remember
your infectious smile.


Chase Kowalski, age seven
seems awfully early for heaven;
but since there was never a better child ...
perhaps the angels called, beguiled?


Jesse Lewis, so full of life,
you could fill a room with bright laughter;
I'm sure you're entertaining angels now
and brightening the Hereafter!


James Mattioli,
exceptional swimmer,
without your bright presence
the world seems much dimmer.


Madeleine Hsu,
what we know of you
is so limited, but we love you too.
May your loved ones keep your memory secure
and your memory give them the strength to endure.


Here is a memorial poem for the school's lovely, valiant principal who, according to accounts, ran to defend her young charges the minute she heard shots being fired, lunging at the shooter in an attempt to disarm him:

Dawn Hochsprung,
each child's courageous friend―
you defended them all till the unthinkable end;
so let your kindness and valor be sung.


Rachel Davino protected her charges
from the killer's barrages;
like her loyal friend,
she was loyal to the end.


Anne Marie Murphy,
fun-loving, hard worker;
you defended your charges―
no coward, no shirker.


Lauren Gabrielle Rousseau,
who loved to teach, and who loved children so,
we're glad you achieved your dream
that final year, and how lovely you seem!


When Mary heard shots being fired, she could have run away to save her own life, but she joined principal Dawn Hochsprung by leaping to her feet and running to protect the students she loved so much.

Mary Sherlach, who courageously ran
without thought for her life to the aid of the children,
taught not just them, but also us,
love's surplus.


Everyone loved Miss Victoria Soto;
she was every student's friend.
And when a killer threatened her charges,
she defended them to the end.

Keywords/Tags: Sandy Hook, school, shooting, massacre, students, children, teachers, gun control
Juno Balder Apr 2020
How long has it been,
Twelve months and a moon?
My hook an’ line
Where are you?
Caught tight between tickings

If only I were swallowed whole
And not the clock
Whose arms twist to hold
And release me over and over again

In the seeds of my core
In the folds of my matter
Timidity embraces me
As I traverse the surface
Where is my divinity?

Visibly aged
Like a reversed Dorian Gray
I remain, in Ash
Where be my Phoenix?
I’m waiting I’m waiting

An escapee of darting visions
And startling dreams
Of Nymphy myths and Goatboy ploys
Which I keep safe in the forests
Of my black mirror memory
solfang Apr 2020
a big catch
that is worth it;
that's what you once said
when you attempted
to reel me in

yet I see there's
no longer a bait at
the end of your hook;
perhaps an easy catch
just wasn't thrilling
enough for you
suitors aplenty, yet they seem to disappear the moment I return their affection.
Ken Pepiton Mar 2020
2020 - day 88

Saturday, March 28, 2020
8:46 AM

Lucky day, depending on when day one was, but

by my count
today is my lucky day.

I'm bound and determined to answer for my bets,
that brought me to this day.

With the odds against me by some ungodly margin
calls that gobble up all the money
and lend it to the Pharoah wannabes and their priests.

Potentcies of poisons swallowed slowly
vary by the same factors as any damming, blocking of ease,
dis ease
despair repaired with promises of sustenance

those **** slowly, the soul, the immaterial matter that make a mind

think safe, unfettered, life is good all time thoughts,

thirty two seemed middle age, when I was sub pubescent.

a child could, imagine being that old.

The imaginary middle age might make a goal,
an aiming point,

for, we all know,
if you aim at nothing, invariably
you hit nothing when you pull the trigger, and become

the projectile for a while, miss-
ing the mark,
sailing on.

no outside force to correct your course, but crazy at
thirty two was the target I was given,

missing the aimed at reality, meant every thing to me,
forty years ago, now.

How different can one step be from another?

You have to ask?
you habitually ask unanswerable questions, why?

Do you need
knowing? Need to see the knife edge cut the tie
binding all you knew to all you

one step past that safe place?

To this safe place, tested, now,
proven safe, by virtue of the fact's self evidence,

you yet live, do you not, one step past all you knew?

Safe and sane, sometimes are not the same state of being.

A real state of being,
proven by that step you took with no destination in mind,

away from evil is always good, if you make up your mind
to find good
footing as you step toward ever with good intention,

the same good intention said to smooth the road to perdition.

But, trust me, says the peacemaker I imagine my AI intends

to voice, as a word comes to mind and tics a gnostic cog,


Pleasure, sure plea from a child, don't shut the door,
don't quit the light,
tell me a story.
Tell me how the peace came to stay at your place.

A they recall an earlier part of the tale.,
Such pleasure, should you ever know,

you never let that go,

the kid exspects, out sees, into the darkness
and knows

Grand pa knows this story,

and he knows we know our side won,

Using nothin' to do
time to learn what books hold. They hold universes vaster than mine,

at the time, now is different, as always.

My bubble of being now holds a door into summer, and flatland.

They hold whole worlds in creations no one argues
happen by chance,
words we hold in common sense,
pure, sheer, luc, if I were

to lucify the shadow under the cover of the book, missing
from this one

storys guide the minds, you know,

those things your culture calls fairy tales, or just so,

stories you know,
Hercules in Aesop being basis for the moral:

The gods help those who help themselves.

Being the hero in your mind, AI ai ai, are we,

the people, imagining thee? Aitia I think I know

I thought you knew causes cause

that's all, no why. So cause some good.

Smile. Wink. Die if you need to.

Teams of normal people, have you an imaginary team
of persons you have been
in movies and games and time of quiet meditation?

Of course, tu supuesto, you are supposed to

add a magi factor, a known

a secret made plain, snatched
from hiding--- hear

pop of joy.
Silenced to prevent alarm.

Cohen winks, a nod that says, everybody knows.

The world turns after all, my geocentric friends,
fall, and they do.
They nail the sun to the sky,
they see the firmament screech to a halt and jump

to grave conclusions, closings with, encluesures,

which we alter by kicking against the ******,
what's a gravewith both ends kickedout?

both ends kicked out, ruts,
courses for streams of dream stuff from the old days,

when we trusted Sagan, took the starstuff
by faith,

hey, what are the odds, given infinity as a possibility?

Nothing is impossible? Exact,
out act nothing, be nothing.

Imagine that. Can you? Then,
now, as it were, you ain't dead, you ain't in a nothing state.

This is life in realm of two-d,
flat out right

thinkin' in symbols holding soundible waves,
to form words

on lips in minds sealed
since ever after went viral, happily.

Happy, to help, said my old friend Greg Howard,
deadsome twenty years, he

some how seems to easily help me
think this way.

I have seen mortality spent to prove a lie.
I have seen good men die.

I know there are men alive because I did not **** them.

And there are men alive, wombed and un, because
I survived to think such silliness as all this.

Many, few
super, ior
infer, ior

are we the weak or are we the heirs of the promise?

I guess, the latter, but so did the Mormons,

a couple hundred years agone. Oh,

did you hear Moroni dropped his trumpet?
when they had an earthquake in Salt Lake,
during the build up to the COVID 19

final affect.

The fans say, talk about tomorrow, we got time

Tell us, tell ye us, old bald head, in all yer teleosity,

what's next? -

A growl, from the old man being ingnored.

old man, can these bone live? lieve?

Were there structions, in form of datadatading ****

calls to arms, not carnal,

weapons of a meeker sort, peace at any price sorta

hand to hand hand grenades, in the spirit.

There was war, in heaven, yeh,
I remember that trip.

We lived the dream, this is the future.
We won. I keep saying that, like a robot.
Long? Too long? This ain't the tip. life is rolling right along and i am hooked.
annh Dec 2019
Cut me a hook to catch my heart beat on.
New Year’s Eve - lazy expectations, summer tunes, and a walk in the park with an earwig.

‘I am a DJ, I am what I play,
I’ve got believers,
Believing me.’
- David Bowie, DJ
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