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"globetrotting" poems
Each of you. My individual singularities, Dad’s One Thing. Conceived 1955. Driven home, progeny, made man, unequivocal, indisputable. Post-war night spirits undaunted ~ stop ******* me. *** for you, stopped me. Can’t make it the way you want. Please stop. Backing off, I respect real you. Don’t push me Me. Don’t dream. Will dream us. Short sentence for guilt whisked way beyond what crime could be. We combine beans and seeds and gourds. That’s science! Culinary! Botany, true, but I’m enaturated. Human pod progressed. If that’s a word, don’t dream it’s not. Forget every word. But make each and every word count. Then add stash, socked away. I concede. Mi casa su casa. Paint it. Together. Made mistake then fixed it. Copasetic dovetails, my lady and me (not I). We walk talk island jib. I like the cut of your yar across the moonlit pool. Go around with me to all haunts, snow globetrotting shaken not stirred My déjà vu in futurum videre, I can’t believe. Asunder goddesses should be together, While Isis and Osiris boogie like Beatrice and Dante encircled, Their own private imbroglio invaded By Goth end time alchemists conjuring copyrights for gelt. You tell me this short story. I cringe. My mind clouds men’s, and then conjures Morpheus. My shadow child joins me in Paradise, Deliria dancing in concert with Shakespearean intent. My daughter’s got more guts in one pinky Than all that fallen pilot on our island bargained for In the games that decided who’s hungrier. You could have been that gal.
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Jul 20, 2013
Jul 20, 2013 at 12:21 AM UTC
Don't Dream
Each of you. My individual singularities, Dad’s One Thing. Conceived 1955. Driven home, progeny, made man, unequivocal, indisputable. Post-war night spirits undaunted ~ stop ******* me. *** for you, stopped me. Can’t make it the way you want. Please stop. Backing off, I respect real you. Don’t push me Me. Don’t dream. Will dream us. Short sentence for guilt whisked way beyond what crime could be. We combine beans and seeds and gourds. That’s science! Culinary! Botany, true, but I’m enaturated. Human pod progressed. If that’s a word, don’t dream it’s not. Forget every word. But make each and every word count. Then add stash, socked away. I concede. Mi casa su casa. Paint it. Together. Made mistake then fixed it. Copasetic dovetails, my lady and me (not I). We walk talk island jib. I like the cut of your yar across the moonlit pool. Go around with me to all haunts, snow globetrotting shaken not stirred My déjà vu in futurum videre, I can’t believe. Asunder goddesses should be together, While Isis and Osiris boogie like Beatrice and Dante encircled, Their own private imbroglio invaded By Goth end time alchemists conjuring copyrights for gelt. You tell me this short story. I cringe. My mind clouds men’s, and then conjures Morpheus. My shadow child joins me in Paradise, Deliria dancing in concert with Shakespearean intent. My daughter’s got more guts in one pinky Than all that fallen pilot on our island bargained for In the games that decided who’s hungrier. You could have been that gal.
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43
in passing through highways, lined with stray trees, ordered erratic I watch my secrets climb and branch out as the leaves confluence together, pondering on at our rush hour madness I climb a mango tree in my childhood reverie sitting atop along with a gaze into my future a fatso, chomping belly full on deeds of my past I hear the hopes in children talk boundaries , shame , other human constructs still haven't filled their muddy pockets with eyes of wonder, lilies get attention miracles are there for our seeking the need to finish, conclude... other futile human pursuits, I hear how dogs yawn at our shams the end of everything is the beginning of something new but we aren't there to witness entrapped in our misery prisoners to maps, when the land lays bare before us hypnotized by photographs until the deterioration of participants goes unnoticed I hear the bones inside me shout, claustrophobic the dammed blood raging , release untold ideas in icicles , impaled I watch the birds cross Atlantic , free the universe in details, beauty
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Apr 23, 2015
Apr 23, 2015 at 8:04 AM UTC
globetrotting
Oh, smile… Why do you evade me? Trump is just a man, and the presidency is largely a puppet position…. The boy is twenty and working he desires to live on his own soon it will just be the wife and I living the dream… my old dog has given me thirteen wonderful years unconditionally loving me even if I was a bad owner early on even if he had cheap food while I will miss him, this is not the first pet I have lost….. oh, smile! Why must I seek you? Forever you have just been the constant my most faithful accompanist as if I were blessed to be happy as life passes by…. lately, you evade me…. I feel your momentary and fleeting presence just long enough for me to remember you live here…. I am sure it is the same with any traveler when you tire of globetrotting you will return, and I, I will wear you proudly once again, Oh, smile!
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May 11, 2016
May 11, 2016 at 5:45 PM UTC
Oh, Smile!