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Loosen your collar,
Untie your tie.
Remove the worrying furrow,
From between your eyes.

Roll up your sleeves,
Kick off your shoes,
A pair of flip flops -
Those old ones'll do.

No thought, no man..
No treasure, no dime,
That brings you down,
Is worth any time.

There, that's better.
Now that you've found you,
Sing your heart out,
And dance away the blues
A poem i wrote in 2011 - old one
socks and shoes sweaters lace
finest trousers heavenly grace
dressed to the nine
going out feeling high
nigh the looks
they are their disgrace
envying my graceful mate
her on my arm
the ultimate date
and how I parade her by those
eyes that turn their heads
looking with hate
and how I bring her
home to rest
in heavenly sleep
and purest love
I will not brag about the best
we do at dawn
I keep that for her
and her alone

Inside
       of  
           my    
               head
            
                        Entombed  
                                 is  
                                      a   
                              
                         B   R   A   I   N

                                      Can’t
             ­                                shake
                                                      this    ­        
                                                        ­   feeling
                                                       ­    That  
                                                             ­it’s
                                                             ­not    
                                                      ­       the      
                                                            s­ame
                                                     Infected sickness
                                                Covered with dull pain
                                         A rabid                          werewolf
                         ­             I’m trying                             to tame
                                     Almost off                              the leash
                                    I tug at                                    the reigns
                                    Hold              on  ­       with       sheer will
                                    Have          nothing   ­    to                 gain
                                
                           ­        My                       efforts;                  A joke
                                   Fighting               a freight                   train
                                    Through              gr­it teeth             I smile
                                      Demeanor             ­                       I feign
                                          Failure          ­    coming            soon
                                      ­       My life,         one more        stain


                                             ­                    Lost
                                                          ­         sight
                                                                ­      of
                                                                ­      it
                                                                ­        all
                                                   ­               To
                                                              w­hat
                                                            ­ it
                                                 pertains
                                                      ­I
                                                    am
                                              sinking
                                                down
       ­                                            Spinning in
                                       the drain
                                                    An
                                               endless
                                              battle
           ­                             Forever
                                     the
                                bane
                           ­  Of
                      my
           existence

            No                   longer                    I’m                   sane………


Written: May 1, 2018 (finished June 27, 2018)

All rights reserved.
[Anapestic Pentameter format]
 Jun 2018 Debbie Brindley
Cné

Synapses fire
Flavors shoot across the tongue
Tasting of good times

Happy Wine Wednesday
 Jun 2018 Debbie Brindley
ryn
I deliberate.
I contemplate.
I procrastinate.

Then I write in ink...

In the hopes
of capturing
all that swims unruly
and speaks in runes.
 Jun 2018 Debbie Brindley
ryn
What sun will shine upon graves
dug fresh and shallow

What moon will shed light
upon silhouettes in embrace

What butterflies would flit amongst
the flowers stowed in a tree’s hollow

What stars would sing in twinkles -
hymns of love and grace
 Jun 2018 Debbie Brindley
ryn
Surely
 Jun 2018 Debbie Brindley
ryn
As sure as the night
into day will turn,

the soul would clutch
at the scars we still earn...

And the skin would miss
just as the heart would burn.
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