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B Apr 28
Where the air is thin and flowers grow a plenty
take me where it hurts to breathe
where the sun embraces me, so gently
and the towns are quiet but friendly.
We shall finger daisies into wreathes,
watch as the aspen births her leaves
into crimson colors, a many.
Secret-Author Dec 2022
When you dress in black and cloak
your feelings with your tears,
Remember all that time you had,
the days, the weeks, the years.

Now is not the time to bring me
flowers in a bow,
That took so long amongst the weeds,
a journey bloom from sow.

When you sit up front and centre
and then go on to say your piece,
Do not think of all the times
you mentioned to me least.

Do not say I was a good, kind wife,
or a sweet and loving mum.
Think instead of the long list
of ways that I'll ruin our son.

Now is not the time to bring me
flowers in a bow.
Not now. Like this?
In front of everyone I know?

Instead just let me lie in peace
and slowly start to rot.
And just like now I can see out my days
as a girl that life forgot.
Norman Crane Oct 2022
What ugly brilliance burns within the face,
Of the man who switched his head for the Sun,
The Earth, in orbit round his skull in space,
Becomes a Hell: his heat—melting everyone.
Norman Crane Oct 2022
Wild ducks swim the flooded streets,
Dead men float face down,
What do the living eat,
When civilizations drown.
Norman Crane Sep 2022
if stars, night, if sun, day,
but if the sun's a star,
is night day, is day night,
are we dead or are we light?
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