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Cold winter colors
Grays and whites
Marshmallow pinks
All frozen in time
 Feb 2022 Zoe Mae
POSSIBLE
It might be the Autumn of the universe

But I’m dead and dying Only got three hours
but I’m worth four William Blakes
JK, this golden tongue just turn't a phrase
I’m variable I might put a pen in it for days
with my skaldic warlike metaphor maybe
pull the powder pink pin to this stink grenade

exploding White-light fragment
truth scattered like a bed unmade

Occupied by a
simple sinful citizen
what a murderous bake
like I pistol whipped the cinnamon
it’s on this nervous earth surface we wake

What if proper prayer & discipline
could cure the break?

Cognitive repetitive
sedative sensitive sediment
Source of my  rep was my life as testament

seems I’m not dominant among
those so ignorant they numb

Instead relations are networked to witness division

tantric like Siva
got three eyes
so when she go to the movies I might do four plays
treat her nice at dinner I o five plates
Then see her later cause when it comes
to acid I might take 6 crates

to the dome, left with Gaping mouth and mind so blown
_
....
^^^^
I got one shot
but I got two clocks
cause time I’m never sure
3 eyes
4 plays
5 plates
6 crates
And 1 Boom Mic

Is this the Autumn of the universe or the Winter? Not for me to say.
I’m just a boy riding a white ox playing flute.  My melody is the great opening, my drums the mirrored Dao.
Don’t deceive yourself ~ Do good to one another in mutual reciprocation.
Om
if you look you can find your own kind of exquisite
and I know it's out there,
in the trash, in piles of cash,
in the petri dish, the wishing well, in Dante's version,
in aversion, conversation therapy, sheer luxury,
the way she looks at me and in places, I want to be,
the list is long with lots on it to visit but here you can find your own kind of exquisite,
you can take
pleasure or pain
I wonder, are they the same?
 Feb 2022 Zoe Mae
My Dear Poet
Sunlight, moonlight
Come with their own greeting
Sun says, “good morning”
Moon replies, “good evening”.

Clockwork shift change
Little conversation on the horizon
Clocking in, clocking out
Leaving and arriving
 Feb 2022 Zoe Mae
My Dear Poet
Oh my
I’m going to die

Oh no
I don’t want to go

Oh dear
It’s goodbye from here
Though death is as certain as life
It always comes as a surprise
 Feb 2022 Zoe Mae
Chloe Jackson
It's all just numbers, isn't it?
Day by day,
Year by year,
Always counting.

Day by day look at the number on the scales.
Let the caloric calculator count until your head is filled with numbers.

Minute by minute count the seconds it takes for him to text you back.
Let the doubt and fear multiply until your head is full of him.

Term by term let a percentage on a piece of paper define your worth.

Don't we have better things to do than count?
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