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Imran Islam Dec 2017
You're breaking my heart
still then I am silent
You're making me tired
but I'm not worried
If you just feel like
I love you, sweetheart!

You don't care about me
but I still love you
You don't think of me
even then I miss you
If you just feel like
I'm there inside your heart!

I walk around and see you
if you ever look at me
I sing at midnight
if you ever listen to me
I'm doing well ‍so that I feel like
you're not falling apart.

If you ever feel like
I am not missing you
If you ever feel like
I am not crying for you
then you think about me
I am no more in this world
and just pray for my departed soul.
Non descript hedge rows sculpted into ornamental animal 
via botanical artist wielding pruning shears and chain saw 
carved, limned and sculpted with wrist wrought voila uber
prestidigitatiously head turning botanical picturesque Sun
kist animals at an exhibition transformed miraculously via 
Te Deum divine fist bumping, whence realistic fauna burst 
alive with an explosion of colorful twist and shout of foliage,
 
where scalloped superfluous detritus manna for naturalist
deciduous detritus capacious carpet boar animation punk
chew waiting groundswell Liszt ghost would arise from the 
grave to produce magnum opus without a beat missed such 
shrubbery mimicking likeness sans glistening fleshy sin
yew, and gist about ready to become bone a fide (green be
hind ears) thriving vox populist, per species and genus 

wrought thrashing into birth as delicate craftsman promised
to imbue life, liberty and pursuit of happiness whittling away 
leavings, thus did exist the nascent then omnipresent visible 
entity emerging from cocoon an herbalist metamorphosed 
from the imagination of a skilled, practiced and mentalist 
conniver viz extracting the initially obscure blessed beast, 

where with august magic wielding tools of this specialty vis 
a vis bringing breathing manifest destiny ala Pinocchio (trans
formed from wood to flesh), whereby finest dexterous 
chiseling blistering hands baffle onlookers as coterie of 
topiary harvest breaths mind bogglingly astoundingly 
authentic rooted ready to frolic in grass menagerie, 

a gamesome group of linkedin live progeny, the Michel
Angelo of dirtiest canvass, an earthen tabula rasa of sorts 
where application threshing re: electric cool laid ahs hid 
test brings out chlorophyll doppelganger green hued key luster.
I'd buoy
and faithfully
quest bitter
nuance these
florid orbs
milk the
way with
point of
passion if
tact hand
in hand
with umbrella
this straw
key in
clouds for
another day
beware Friday the Thirteenth here
Andreas Simic Sep 2017
Now and Then in 2017©

There was a time when I was younger
That there was this constant hunger

Time has passed and the years have flown by
Sometimes joy and laughter, sometimes a good cry

Vows kept under the stars we met
A grandson that keeps me young without regret

Where once I had a great left hook
I now rely on Facebook

Used to compete at a track meet
What I do now is Tweet from my seat

In lieu of at the rink with my team
I’m Linked In to the latest dream

Before, at the diamond with a bat
After, share the world with Snap Chat

Amazon was a great river in Brazil
Now an eCommerce site with a bill

Past, hanging out at the mall looking for chicks
Present, watching Netflix pics

It used to be four on the floor
Instead my best friend is an I Phone more

Many hours once spent polishing chrome
Replaced by Google Chrome in your home

Parallel parking used to be a real pain
My car parks by itself again and again

At the pumps no more
The car is electric and less a chore

I find myself often saying
Is there an “app” for that, and then playing

In conclusion I have no dilution of days gone by
The days of yore are long gone and I’m on standby

To give it all a try

Andreas Simic©
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