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"ransome" poems
Crazy perfume you smell when the doors swing wide open. Crazy tiny hour hands tell every manican your shopping toaday. You buy summer dresses 50 percent off. You watch my world slow down because I am hanging like a hat on hooks. I saw John crowe Ransome buying a suite for a friends funeral. Still I think he just wanted to leave. Before the mall closed toaday I wanted to become a waxed tile.  Or even a plastic tree next to the recliners.  ( I coudnt be anything I wanted in here) My painted jeans arnt for sale anymore. Because years made them fade.   Now im inside new stores, new venues to make happiness continue.   Some how its all the same. When did I shift places because the racks seem full of sadness.  I know where to find mirriors even if no body else actually wants to see themselves reinvented again.
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Oct 3, 2013
Oct 3, 2013 at 12:36 AM UTC
Inside of the Mall
XXXIII swinging at her mooring the Albatross sits out the squall rain driving down the loch its crew ready to launch the tender to greet dry land At last ! (said ***** XXXIV Reading Ransome (before sleep takes over) celebrates this northern clime Diver or no Diver preoccupied **** leaves the shore party to find adventure above the secret cove where Captain Flint and the scrubbers make the Sea Bear fit for Old Mac . .  . but I am seduced (until she comes to bed) with Ms Jamie’s Sabbath Day on Collinsay finding nothing more necessary to write than Sea, Birds, Wind XXXX Yesterday it rained all day so the museum beckoned and we became enthralled by the artefacts of daily life, images of times within the memory -  just. The things of living mostly at home and further from the world we know and somehow cope with stand testament to a way of life now passed now gone. Between bench and stove, dresser and wheel, the chest and personal things, their short distances collect in memory. XXXV sky blue clouds grey and white hills green and brown and purple rocks grey and black sea green and turquoise tide brown sand khaki all the colours come together on this afternoon beach where the tide rising dogs the footstep
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Oct 5, 2016
Oct 5, 2016 at 6:30 AM UTC
Sketches of Summer XXXIII - XXXV
why cant they let him go set him free instead just for helping people they want to take his head why cant they let him go he did nothing wrong why cant they send him home where he should belong. just another hostage held for ransome fee another way of blackmail in order to be free why cant they let him go this is not his fight give him back his freedom its his human right
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Sep 24, 2014
Sep 24, 2014 at 11:13 AM UTC
taxi driver plea
I've always felt a strong pulling towards the earth in my palms Something beautiful about dirt filling the cracks left gaping Band aid measure of a tired fault The sun burns holes in my paper skin Leaving behind a ransome note for my spite Little days find longer months Bringing telephone heartbreak to the girl made of angles She pulls the mud over her eyes Bringing warmth to a time of no sunshine No time to sit, she sleeps under her old grave
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Nov 24, 2013
Nov 24, 2013 at 9:45 PM UTC
Sleeping in the Dirt
Rain drops dropping on your dry soul Wet hands now clap of laughter Low in self-steem now flying higher Weak in imagination scared to see a future without her She is deeper than the ocean floor You shallow as a river filled with rocks Emotions fueld by your insecurities Now you are scared to be who you are supposed to be Stagnate in progression so you regress Take a million steps backwards Scared to move forward Fearing the future lacking the idea of growth That one knee will never see the floor Because you can't see a future with her But you hold on to her like ransome While her next one is dying to find her Leave her be so she can be free to find her one true love Her next one
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Sep 12, 2017
Sep 12, 2017 at 9:03 AM UTC
Her Next One
Beaten by nature, Beaten by fate, Abandoned by the future, Shackled by hate; Everything against us, Nothing works, All conspire against us, Nothing works; Robbers gain entry, Ransack our spaces, With brazen effrontery, Descecrate our ladies; Kidnappers abduct us, Demand huge ransome, We sell the horse, But **** regardless the sum; Terrorists massacre worshippers, Leave trails of congealed blood, Whole families in tatters, Children cry, "why Lord?!" Soldiers brutalise, Intimidate and harass us, Shoot with evident lies, Then carry on without fuss; The police betray truly, Always hostile, Never friendly, Quick to open case file; The government hate us, From cradle to grave, They rob us, Then force us to behave; The people, non wiser, Mob and burn one another, Rather than bond together, They allow differences tear assunder.
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Oct 19, 2022
Oct 19, 2022 at 8:29 AM UTC
ON ALL SIDES.
We like to get high on emotions See people kiss in the rain Want to scale building in our dreams Fly like a bird And capture sunsets But we hold our life for ransom Say you have to pay to get it back Between communication and tip jars Life is lost and darkness thrives
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Jun 9, 2015
Jun 9, 2015 at 3:58 PM UTC
Ransome
we did not mean to go to sea, heads bound heavily. we did not mean to take the tide, escape the crowds and families. we read arthur ransome sensibly, sink gracefully. sbm. i am now snaller, than i used to be.
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May 21, 2013
May 21, 2013 at 6:03 AM UTC
121.