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"docent" poems
I'm going to tell you a story, About a girl, Who wanted nothing but fame and glory. She dreamt of days without a worry. A world when people have no need to be sorry. She sits back and enjoys the moment, With music in her ears as her docent. Tunes from varying artist, From tove lo, to G eazy, to the weeknd. Creating moods that she never knew exist. Everything was just pefect. It began to rain, She turns down the volume. She cries quietly, Listening to the stories drops create in her brain. She tries not to remember the pain, But the memories continued to swirl and destroy her, Like a bunch of internal hurricanes. Then, she remembers the relief of cutring open her veins. She clenches her fists, She tries to resit. The voices begin to scream, Stripping away her self esteem. She covers her ears, She continues to Cry! "No more fears no more fears!" She pops some pills trying to get high. But she took too much, And she dies. This is just a story, Of a girl who was used for fame and glory.
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Jun 10, 2015
Jun 10, 2015 at 6:29 PM UTC
Just a story
I am happy most when alone, Don't get me wrong I like having company, I have two best friends. But, I am happiest alone. It's just my nature. Don't think anyone will change that so easily. I am happiest alone. My heart docent hurt in the presence of others, Nor dose it ache in their absence. I like silence, For me there is none awkward. I am happiest alone because that makes me feel free.
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Dec 5, 2015
Dec 5, 2015 at 12:03 PM UTC
The Only Emotion I Know, Content
In her dreams, the docent maneuvers schoolchildren down museum corridors, shepherding their bodies into evacuated galleries where nothing changes except the patterns of nails hammered into plaster walls. She speaks pedantic falsehoods until one by one the children disengage and find themselves a constellation of nails upon which to hang. A renaissance takes time, but not as much as you might think. Come midnight, the museum is full of masterpieces. And though the works of art make her weep, the docent is inspired to study each small frame for a brushstroke that might signify the break of dawn.
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Mar 15, 2017
Mar 15, 2017 at 9:44 AM UTC
The Docent
I wore a gold Star. I bear a tattoo. When Six Million died I was one of the few, Through the mercy of God or the missed chance of Fate, I escaped from the boxcar into winter’s dim light. My parents and sister, Long are dust on the wind. Their faith and their race were their only known sins Now, though stooped and arthritic, I still testify To the bitter cup tasted when the Six Million died. (An elderly docent at the Shoah Center recalls his brush with death at the hands of the Gestapo)
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Dec 14, 2013
Dec 14, 2013 at 11:33 AM UTC
I Wore a Gold Star
in the words of Pat Benitar , love is a battle field. fought over and over again tho we get broken and torn , we pull ourselves back together and stitch that heart back on our sleeve but why? why fight for something that 30% of the world docent believe in? is it because we are so desperate for companionship that we will believe in some crazy myth, that promises us true love ? what if i told you i have seen it? what if i told you its there , and waiting for you i'm not going to promise that you'll find it or that your journey to it will be easy but it's true love is out there so all those who are in love come together lets fight for what we believe in change the world we all know it needs it...
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Jan 30, 2011
Jan 30, 2011 at 6:47 PM UTC
standing up for love
A mist, but not of memories or ghosts, And not a silent mist - a noisy one Drifts darkly over this altar to the past The docent pauses for each motor home Gear-growling up the unexpected slope Along the road from that point to this one Well-paved and posted: fifteen miles per hour For cell-‘phone shots where each historic death Is marked with stones among the sunlit grass The docent speaks of her peoples: Cheyenne, Arapaho, Sioux, and soldier boys blue With frequent and reflective pauses as A Winnebago circles Last Stand Hill
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Apr 13, 2019
Apr 13, 2019 at 4:06 PM UTC
The Little Bighorn Battlefield Across from the Gas Station
If the dead teach the living then why must I live?
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Jun 20, 2014
Jun 20, 2014 at 1:51 PM UTC
Mortui Vivos Docent
Where is that daunting monster Boogie man in life’s shadow Master mentor and concierge Whose touch I’ve come to know To you I’ll waste no breath Beauty is not long and septic My daunting docent of death Midwife to misery, work quick What small dignities remain Strung of vomiting seconds Cultures a pearl of great pain To ferry a man of no direction
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Sep 9, 2020
Sep 9, 2020 at 9:42 AM UTC
“Hard Crossing”
Familiar enough, they live in the same flat Sleeping on the other side of paper walls Phone calls muffled. Or clear as day When nighttime drama has been peaked Passing when scurrying Off to work, out for a walk Gone to the beach for a breather. They politely nod with pleasantries and smiles The flat is surrounded By invisible but ever-present Life forms Who arrived recently The three sages, the visitor, the novice In the novitiate all strangers We try hard. To be civil, kind, pleasant We would do well to have a warm relationship Sitting at breakfast on Tuesday morning Master encounters the viejo leaving “oh, hi” Frequently those would be The only two syllables to pass Each of their lips “We are here to guide, protect and educate”. The disembodied women and children Steeped in ages of tradition Have found their way here. Or were they summoned? Rising slowly the Master stops the flow And cuts into recognized routine “I have something for you, I made it last night.” That evening, Tuesday, another chance encounter The docent, el viejo and the Master Chat comfortably, alone, without the others A quiet and peaceful cabal The building was a shop Or perhaps, a parts supply warehouse Which Upon installation of sacred statues Became a sanctuary. With a loft Do you practice in a particular way? Are you comfortable in the expectations When your inevitable death arrives Are your wills stout and resolute? You have heard of Kabbalah, of course The concepts strange to me Numerology I’ll stick to what I know, goodnight. Let them go to slumberland Attend the special space Where they can see A Pure Land
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May 19, 2019
May 19, 2019 at 9:13 PM UTC
The Roommates
Familiar enough, they live in the same flat Sleeping on the other side of paper walls Phone calls muffled. Or clear as day When nighttime drama has been peaked Passing when scurrying Off to work, out for a walk Gone to the beach for a breather. They politely nod with pleasantries and smiles The flat is surrounded By invisible but ever-present Life forms Who arrived recently The three sages, the visitor, the novice In the novitiate all strangers We try hard. To be civil, kind, pleasant We would do well to have a warm relationship Sitting at breakfast on Tuesday morning Master encounters the viejo leaving “oh, hi” Frequently those would be The only two syllables to pass Each of their lips “We are here to guide, protect and educate”. The disembodied women and children Steeped in ages of tradition Have found their way here. Or were they summoned? Rising slowly the Master stops the flow And cuts into recognized routine “I have something for you, I made it last night.” That evening, Tuesday, another chance encounter The docent, el viejo and the Master Chat comfortably, alone, without the others A quiet and peaceful cabal The building was a shop Or perhaps, a parts supply warehouse Which Upon installation of sacred statues Became a sanctuary. With a loft Do you practice in a particular way? Are you comfortable in the expectations When your inevitable death arrives Are your wills stout and resolute? You have heard of Kabbalah, of course The concepts strange to me Numerology I’ll stick to what I know, goodnight. Let them go to slumberland Attend the special space Where they can see A Pure Land
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