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I want nothing more than to be left alone.

yet there's this child
Clinging to every
Step I take,
Reminding me of
All the spears
Our mother
Chucked at our eyelids.

I want nothing more than to be left alone.

yet there's a little rebel
Churning the bile
Inside my guts,
Screaming at me
About all the sharp edges
Of the road we walk on.

I want nothing more than to be left alone.

yet there's all this responsibility
Weighing me down,
And dragging me
Towards the edges
Of this broken glass path.

I want nothing more than to be left alone.

yet theres an old man
Whispering from the haze.
He tells me to turn back
From this destiny we share.

All that he wants is nothing more than for me to leave him alone.
Man Mar 5
If it were mine-
I think of the past, time
Unpauses, and I'm brought back.
I'd never have;
Factors weigh too heavily, those
Strings that keep me attached.
Choose to come back.
Waters fall, the stream cascades
Flowing into itself
Over & over again
Consilius Feb 25
Eva
It's been three years since you left.
What were you like as a child?
Whom did you fall in love at first,
and what memories this old chest hides?

Your mom saying she gets by,
no matter how much you hate her... why?
Why is she so upset with you,
and why would she write she hoped to die?

Did everything she could, why wasn't that enough?
Wished better life for you... the times were rough.
Hoped your father's death would change you for the better?
Would have no idea if not for this latter.

It was almost half a century ago... in 1977

What were you back then? Twenty one?
On these black & white photos it seems you had fun.

Haha what is this, a love note from a guy on a bus?
He basically rejected himself, didn't even have to ask.

I see a young ******* these pages,
I side of you I never knew,
If not for this diary, I would never had a clue.
What poetry you loved, what dreams you had,
what you were like...

"I would die for love,
but I was born for life"
What can a man alane do?
What can he say? But company costs.
Not dollars nor cents. But recompense.
The cost is oftain high and makes nai sense.
If you think I've made errors it's Scots not that I'm dense.
Mighty swing tree
that carried me
through summer days of yore

To-and-fro,
each pump I fly
higher than before

So strong, you stand,
with single hand,
you hold me safe and true

With me here now
in rocking chair,  
from wood where you once grew
This is a rewrite of an earlier poem
Saw an old man down by the riverside, lookin' 'bout half past dead/

Gave him two dollars and a penny, for to get a bottle just to cool his head/

Turned around to hand it back to me,  and I looked at him like he was mad/

Swept his gaze up to my eyes, and he gave a single shake of his head, /

Said "I've been here for a long while, and I'll stay until I'm good and dead,"/

"It's been a many year since I've sat here, and I'll stay 'til my kingdom come, /

I didn't know just what to say to that, so I asked, "Hey, mister, where you from?"/

He took a minute,  thinking 'bout everything,  and I thought he was dead/

Gave the biggest smile I have never seen,  and he turned to me,  and he said:/

"I come from over yonder, where the mountain starts, and the river ends"/

"The first thing I saw was the water; it'll be the last thing I see again, "/

"Yeah,  I came from the water, and if you see a friend of mine, "/

"Tell him he's still got a brother,  who won't let him get left behind..."/
This is meant to be sung, not read.  I appreciate if you feel it. If not,  well... this here is Texas, yeah? Old school.
it made him feel old
     beyond even the years
          he was managing to carry
as he judged the children
storming the carriage
raucous in hi-vis
ever-ebullient despite
their chaperon's plea
to showcase successfully
their inimitable behaviour
only to be scuppered by
a locomotive
     lack of momentum
which did nothing to quell
their impatient effervescence

as the stationary train
     held by an unexplained
          flashing of red signals
awaited its onward journey
through yet another
outbound rush hour
not one single person
elected to sit next to
or even near by
that solitary man
wrapped tightly in coat
bedecked in hood and hat
hands deeply pocketed
and eyes half-closed
blind against his fatigue
and the low-slung sun

unseen by the children
until after their calming
the man appeared to them
     as one of those adults
          not to be disturbed
like their grandpas
deeply snoring on
those rainy Sundays
or their parents
finally at peace
after one of those
     wanton days
steering clear of limbs
and personal space
they are careful to avoid
any proximity to this
slumbering stranger
fearful of the wrath
of such an awakening

appreciating their caution
     unnecessary as it may be
through his squinted
obstructing view
unexpectant and unexpected
he found himself smiling
     at what he could see
     at what he remembered
and stirred playfully
settling deeper into
his feigned slumber
careful to avoid
confounding
any of those
childish preconceptions
Is there a fundamental truth in following the old and the precedent;
When the only thing that is constant is change?
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