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Shady Teddy Aug 2015
I met her accidentally
Her eyes were still wet
After sobbing and wiping her eyes
She had been hurt so much
Wounded with arrows and cuts
Her heart was still bleeding
Urgently requiring a hemostat
And she was breathing rather fast
She had been running away
Fleeing from her captor
Yes, away from her tormentor
But this wasn’t the first time
She had been wounded before
I could see through her toughened face
Behind the forced smile
I could see the scarred heart
Crops of scars lacing her heart
And she could still afford to smile
She could barely complete sentences
She was weak and drained
By people who promised her love
But ended up taking it away
And now she was scared
She said “they never run out of lies”
They always had a new lie
Or another version of the same lie
And she kept falling for it
Over and over and over again
Each time ending up inflicted
She needed this safe heaven
Someone reliable
Someone reasonable
Someone patient
Someone understanding
Someone who loves God
Someone dedicated
Someone truthful
To write a new chapter in her life
To show her the meaning of life
To suture the heart cut by knife
To clean her infected wounds
That’s the time I met her
A shell of her former self
Left empty on the inside
And scorched on the outside
“amebeat” I heard someone say
which is slang for wasted
I wished I had some love left
But my encounters before
Had left a caution on me
And it was hard to trust
All that was left in me
Was just a few seeds of hope
And that is what I offered her
HOPE
I took her into my arms
And read Job 14:7
And now when I look at her
I see what God can do
Because in her I see me
And I know that she is happy
So I look inside and tell myself
It’s OK to lose everything
But don’t lose hope
And there is hope for you too.
Ambiguity within mine
doodling Yankee mind that
arises, asper current
hoopla harrumphing
American Civil War statues,
which verbal/written spat

particularly regarding southern generals
(many atop horses) arouses
call to arms whereat,
excited curiosity possibly twill incite
dangerous extraneous, mutinous,
treasonous *** for tat

promulgation exhuming ghosts
abolitionists of Dead Poets Society
screeching like a wildcat
signaling resumption, sans
war between the states recruiting
every able bodied proletariat

after well nigh one
hundred fifty four plus years,
which repurpose sing reformat
might transform mine
humdrum friggin existence
into one enviable secretariat,

where these ears will
hear constant ratatat,
when bombardiers din
temporarily doth pause
scampering atop rampart
analogous to polecat

espying the freshly minted "enemy"
unconcerned if maneuvers induce pitapat
cuz resumption of battle will drown,
this weasel granted leeway within Union
Schwenksville, Pennsylvanian nonfat
spry old man confident fighter

despite civilian life
extant, viz noncombat
acclimated to rustic/primitive conditions
honest to dog abode comprised
thatched hut housed within mudflat

only during rainfall rigging
makeship shower plus laundromat
counting lucky stars kismat
blessed without necessity
to whip out handy dandy hemostat,
thus yours truly ready for action

quite content nsync
within no man's land habitat
linkedin with nearest battalion via
microchip embedded within
noggin rock solid as hardhat
genetically modified lest

Johnny Rebel lob brickbat
also on lookout against
swampy hungry creatures,
thence I will ******
these lovely bones akin to acrobat.

— The End —