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  Aug 2018 Logan Robertson
Akira Chinen
The truth is, I probably love you...
and what i mean by that is...
I love you...
and that is to say I have loved you
since I first heard your voice
and lifted my head
and saw you walking away

that may seem odd
or improbable or impossible
but I recognized that feeling instantly
and though it was odd
and improbable and impossible
it dug its way straight into my heart
and it made it self comfortable
and stretched out and stayed there

though it was sometime
before I saw you again
and then even longer
before I ever heard your name
and much longer before I sat
at the same table as you sipping coffee
and all that was a long time ago I know
but it feels as if it all may have
just happened around the corner
five seconds ago

I may be rambling
because I really don’t know
how to talk about these things
and I am not really that good
at talking in general
and its even worse when its
with a living person
that I know I love
but have failed to mention
that fact
to that person

and the best option
always seems to me
is to pack my bags
and move to the other side
of the world
and never talk to that person again

because wouldn’t that be easier
than rejection
or worse...
acceptance
because acceptance
can often lead to failure
and if I check my track record
that is exactly where it has lead
ever time so far

also in the side notes
it mentions that
i am i hopeless romantic
so the fact that I seem hopeful
every time I hear your voice
and every time i see you
just seems to point to that cliff
were I always find myself
tumbling head over heels
and down into the shards
of stuttering bad poetry
and pillow cases filled with bricks
made out of tears
carved out of the infinite ocean
of my own stupidity

and that seems to be my life so far
something to laugh at
that isn’t funny
but thats ok
because it’s more of a nervous laugh

so the truth is, I probably love you...
and what i mean by that is...
I love you...
and that is to say
I will most likely drown
in my own stupidity
before you ever know
  Aug 2018 Logan Robertson
Pagan Paul
.
The larks playing on a summer breeze,
and finches darting in betwixt the trees,
my mind is enthralled by what it sees.

A lark lands on my shoulder,
and it sang to me a secret,
I would love to tell it to you,
but I promised I would keep it.



© Pagan Paul (15/08/18)
.
for my muse ;-)
.
  Aug 2018 Logan Robertson
Valsa George
On a walk companioned by my Muse along the sylvan meadows
We wandered away to delightful realms in unclouded ambience
Don’t know how long I rambled warming my fancies in sunset fires
Must be for long, all lights were out, the quiet hamlet lay bathed in sleep

Above  me, stood the starry firmament and the half hidden moon
Could see the vast plains stretching before me in moonlight, bare
My heart was flooded with joy, my fancies took to wings
Got drowned in Nature’s serene calm, my spirit lost in drunken ecstasy

In the gentle blowing breeze, the leaves twittered and murmured
All else was quiet and nothing disturbed the serenity of the night
But soon I knew the East wind strengthening around into a gale
And across the moon I could see stragglers of clouds moving past

I sat on a rock, lost, so lost staring into the clear night sky
Wondering how the celestial joy, made manifest by the twinkling stars
My thoughts began floating like a ship over the briny waters
And my temporal settings faded away like a cloud in the horizon

From the nearby woods, I heard the song of a lone night bird
In rising cadence, alone and aloud it fell on my rapturous ears
Was it a nightingale that poured forth that dewy delight?
Was it the same song, Keats heard long ago cascading from the woods?

      With my Muse in this unearthly hour let me sit awhile in this solitary bower
To my paper, let my fancies in unbroken crystal streams flow
Wonder if I can rightly recreate the image that my thoughts enfold
How I wish, I could like Coleridge, build a pleasure dome in mid air!
Logan Robertson Aug 2018
Michael Jackson sang Billy Jean
Made the audience swoon and preen
There his hands stood
Dare he knocks on wood
A grab of crotch departs of his gene

Logan Robertson

8/20/2018
Logan Robertson Aug 2018
My Sister, I Watched You Fall-2

My little nephew, I was sorry for your sorrows
When the whims of your mother stormed your tomorrows
You didn't know who your father was
Or why the branches of your tree sagged its paws

For you walked thru the halls of life mauled
By a lost paw that grabbed your mind and sadness walled
I could see it in your mind's eyes, the question marks
Of why other families have fathers at the parks

From the time you were a little child of two
You would love to go with uncle to the zoo
Then as the wheels in your mind started to click
Seeing other kids with fathers, it made you sick

You were young seedling lacking the nourishment
The parts of the puzzle missing fulfillment
But hear this, my little nephew, your uncle tried
And ... at the mercy of your mother's whims, I cried

We'd play the role of father and son
Fish a dream, toss the past, paint some fun
We'd **** weeds while wrestling through a reservoir of tears
Aborted in time, a lake, two swans and a duckling in good cheers

My nephew, I would take you around the world if I could
But hear this you were never, never driftwood
For I had spent as much time visiting you
In absence of a fathers touch, you never knew

I shed more tears today as I catch wind of your child
For its teeth bites and gust of whims, again, run wild
Do I offer congratulations knowing the lake is devoid
Of future swans and a duckling, walled in my mind's void

No. My nephew, I'm choked in tears that crawl
On the face of the earth, I sprawl
I thought you learned, child uncorked
On wings of albatross and not the stork

Logan Robertson

8/16/2018
Play on words-paws, mauled. At age two, he was a child prodigy
with an eidetic memory. He was a **** at math, count change impressively, knew the times' table, like how many donuts in five in a half dozen. We would study the map, he knew all the states and capitals. I was impressed watching him grow and blossom. Then one day at that young age he learned why other kids had fathers and he didn't. It hurt him badly. He recoiled. He rebelled. He purposely started to give wrong answers to my teaching, as he started to lose interest. And things waned after that understandingly so. But for a while there he was so bright. This is a sad page to turn.
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