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 Jul 2018 Duncan Brown
Who stole my thunder,
Who christened the ground with their footprints where mine should have been?

The holy heat of my words spreading up your spine, kissing your fingertips with friction...making the hair on your arms rise.
I could make you say amen but the sound of your rain is prayer enough.

Blessed is the air that graces your skin between touching and going...the light that you bring and leave with

You never stay but God the intensity is shocking
Hello guys! I'm just somehow learning my poem "Loyalty" got over 200 likes And was posted as a daily poem?! All I can say is how shocked I was to see that after not being on for two months, and the only thing I can think to say is thank you all so MUCH.

This poem..actually means the world to me. Love is such an otherworldly thing and the truest kind can bring you to your knees and make you believe in God. So this poem is a tribute to that. To all that you are mein Herz and mein alles, I love you Ewig.
I am a woman I have always been her
I've always been a blue-eyed girl
but the lost time knocked the clock
they knocked like a hammer for a minute
and time took me away from myself
I lost myself I'm losing myself
and figured himself and bought himself
Only now I have other eyes
and now I'm not a woman I'm a man

but unless unless time runs
streams flow at lightning speed and thunder rumbles
then maybe I'm not a woman or a man at all
I'm something or something
that the lost and unprecedented ignorant
no consciousness and no soul and no heart of mine
I'm not a man I'm not a woman I'm nothing
I was a woman I was a man and all this is a celebration
I shed blood shedding wine and it's all nothing
solemnity solemnity solemnity celebration
I lost myself I lost myself and never found
I've never ever never never found myself
and never talked to himself

the night goes on as the day goes on  
and the plane in the sky flies    
there I see myself in a blue blouse with a man
looked away to the ground looked in the cafe
there I am already a red-haired girl stained with years who
trying to compose verses looked the other way
saw a store and in the store is a Chinese and this
Chinese is me and again I buy books and book books
how many times about how many times have I seen myself
About the same time I was dying and was born
i was a girl she was me i was a man he was me
but what I am now is the question that I will never know
whether I am a girl or a diamond is a pearl either man

 Jul 2018 Duncan Brown
Blue Flask
I am an empty wasteland
Studded with stained remnants of coffee cups
Papers are strewn about, telling stories about people
Who will never exist.
They seem so much more real than I have ever been
Musky clothes line the floor sending unseen spores deep
Into the lining of my lungs
I am one with where I am
Food and pills surround every speckle of surface
A myriad of tye dye colors
How much happiness can they fit inside a pill?
books and posters leave plastered imprints on the walls
Anything to show that this isn’t all there is
To a life that was never worth it to you

I am a bleeding liver
Half guzzled liquor
Spilled into cracked cups creates scummy films
Rainbow reflections of light from vertical screens
How’s that for a pride display?
In the rainbow of puddles
A failed education fills a shelf
Reading is so far beyond
A fan buzzes in my ear
An angry bee that pounds thousand ***** to keep me cool

I am a furnace
That burns paper ideologies
Nothing here is permeant
Real is just a concept
Gallons of water to satiate an always parched throat
Diluted blood fills these veins
A slow death from oxygen deprivation
With no belt around the neck

I am a fetid corpse
That can still move
Still think
Still spew methane
Use a screen to reach out
Talk to a thousand other blank eyed, slack jawed clones
What does it mean, these words on a white background
Are you the reaper?
The coroner?
I’m breathing
I’m sweating
I’m *******
I’m not living
Air fills these two sacks
Red sewage is pumped into grey hands
A jolt down the spine
Is all I am
What am I?
I am a medicated pig
I am an artist failed dream
I am a cloud, high and falling constantly down
I am a camera, only able to record, but never interpret
I am
I am
For a friend who will always be close
 Jul 2018 Duncan Brown
Seeing you
makes me
miss you
A cyclical poem, one of my all-time favourites.
 Jul 2018 Duncan Brown
between us
our breath mists
as we pursue passion
this  night of zero  degrees
our ardour is  summers hottest day
as the sweat cools upon  bared *******
we reach an apex our very own everest
and then become aware of the chill in the air
a nonette
a dragonfly sat in this yard
atop a stick not far from near
above the poppies, above the mint
from sun above its eyes did glint
no hurry as the wind caressed
as shadow moved upon its rest
the time advanced, it floated by
this insect chose to stay awhile
then like all things it moved along
on flower heads and currents song
its gone now as the day grows long
from moments sight to fluttering gone

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