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1.3k · Jun 2017
Radio Flyer
wordvango Jun 2017
it's time
time to load my most personal  things
taking only the most important

escape this apocalypse
you'll see me on the side
of the road
my cardboard box full of notepads

a lifetime of heart things
feelings tear stained yellow
page after page
pulling a Radio Flyer

on I-10
three  cats and an old faithful
black labrador dame
and one box
1.3k · Mar 2015
Vitruvian man
wordvango Mar 2015
measured in
correlations
as four
cubits makes him
to me is equated with
the length of outspread arms
of a woman awaiting
him.
1.3k · Nov 2014
small is
wordvango Nov 2014
a nibble of love
         a quarrel ending like a pebble
thrown
         too quickly into the raucous sound
echoing and to(ing) or fro(ing)
          the ripples into the ocean
again.

small is time
          the ******  once fed you
growing you saw it as seafood
          raw like sushi
You drown  into the tiniest man must have
ever lived
         your notions
memories hidden.
1.3k · Jul 2019
And "I"
wordvango Jul 2019
Who hadn't loved you
In time, perhaps
Like the wall in the painting
Faded,
Far from the window,
And the shine
On the pearl
In your ear remained,
"I"
Am colored still
With your
Glow
1.3k · Apr 2016
listening
wordvango Apr 2016
to music I wandered upon Paul Simon
wondered how he ever thought to write a song
about 'You can call me Al'

and made a video with Chevy Chase
soft in the middle....  cartoon character...
if you'll be my bodyguard

role model.....hints and allegations...
refrain

I will be your long lost pal,
I can call you Betty?
1.3k · Oct 2014
Texturing a sphere primitive
wordvango Oct 2014
Like magic or magnets
    an image representation
to plot a texture map
    to get the smoothness
it is good to set the proper
    VertexNormals,
She is gorgeous
     wrapped around a cylinder,
I can so manipulate,
     into a Graphics Complex
into a graphic primitive
     into a sphere revolving
around me.
1.3k · Mar 2015
Screams #4
wordvango Mar 2015
hoochie ******* man, Bruh Rabbit
a trickster be def....
takes a dif form on dif days
on the 7th day of the 7th month with 700 dolla's
don't ever mess around
taking the form of Pops he stole the fire
from Prometheous, who
stole it too
a coyote
Raven
like Jacob from the Bible,
Questions of is he messenger or Messiah
teaching wisdom or teasing
stories
'bout mojo black cat bones
or hoochie ******* mamas
1.3k · Aug 2015
it was a bizzare day
wordvango Aug 2015
on the first Tuesday last month,
I saw my Black Lab
propose to my grey and white cat,

I had noticed a certain something going on;
I thought it was aggressions over territory or food,
never imagined they had deeper feelings.

He had a little collar , with rhinestones,
for her, about like what I could afford if
some girl tickled my fancy.

She, answered with ,  " meow" and a cheek rub,
how could I turn down their romances.
I filled their dinner dish with fresh hot dogs,
their water dish with clean cool water, and a few rose petals,

went outside to let them be alone, heard such a ruckus,
reminded me of my honeymoon. When I came in  my remote was chewed up.

The next month, Time Warner sent me a bill for an ******* movie
,  101 Damnations does a *****.
I laughed.
1.2k · Aug 2017
ears are amazing
wordvango Aug 2017
once then a time been a morn' shine a day grown
into a full year it seems stunningly glare-ing
me into a sudden reality
it spoke commonly about
a heart and a wink a kiss a soft shoulder
pink
on a bank of a river flowed
small animals testaments
they gathered round
for this was magical
a story of  
many textual diddy contraptions and she
was sure
me was her one
and it hearted warmed calmed me
and felt me like I needed
all surety and  conceptions with dreams
all colliding
in stardust dreams and moonbeams
with moon pies and hot coffee
and confessions
penetrations are awaiting
ears are amazing
1.2k · Sep 2014
Pledge of allegiance
wordvango Sep 2014
I pledge allegiance to the flags of the divided states of Africa, and to the republics which barely stand, many nations divisible, suffering, Ebola ,no liberty , no justice, for all.
I stand at attention.
1.2k · Jul 2014
a little sweetheart
wordvango Jul 2014
I love a little sweetheart
cute as a flower petal
hard as the hardest meadow
sharper than a fuzzy peach
wrought of flesh cheesecake
sweet as chocolate luck
now within my reach
your lips
and now I know your name,
sweetheart,
i die
a metaphorical death.
1.2k · Feb 2017
All the hate
wordvango Feb 2017
long hair around my neck
a red complexion
my grandfather would have never
approved of my predilection
for words instead of action
he stands in my memory so tall
white haired then and chiseled
face and faction
a man of Cherokee stance
and action, had markers and hates he stood
fast to, no other way to act he said,
kept Grandma pregnant
her whole life, until she had that attack,
and lay paralysed her last years of breathing,
then he kept up with her nurse,
and climbing pruning trees till he was 93.
He fell fast , one September,
like a limb he had pruned from an oak,
fell hard to the ground under
a hot sun, his whole life devoted
to family and heritage.
He might not approve of me, being so
magnamious in forgiveness.
It has to end some day, though.
1.2k · Oct 2014
A poem dressing
wordvango Oct 2014
Her arms so arabesque,
choreographed by Balanchine,
smoothly flow
raise and lower
in time to unheard melodies,
A Flamingo when this lady
dresses.
Bees and birds stop fluttering,
watch, as
she pulls those stockings
slow, so slowly
up her silky leg
to heaven.
wordvango Feb 2016
once upon one time I had finery
I had Pac Man and a Ps2
I had a computer fast as lightning
that downloaded all the latest games
played them without a pause
and a silk robe to lounge around in
a virtual girlfriend, an I phone that
all my friends drooled over ,
Fifty Gigs of internet Wifi connectivity
and  no need for a job, then my wifi
and phone and Rent-a-Center sent me bills,
and even Fingerhut cut me off. Now I am working at Mc D's.
1.2k · Nov 2014
always seeing
wordvango Nov 2014
I am always seeing the seasons changing
the hottest summer breeze fall leaves
cold winter snows spring roses
dawns and darkness
crimson ochres
grasses green drenching
clear drop rains, ice and cold,
turning reds and oranges fallen leaves
your eyes being the clearset
green of forests the scent
of wintergreen freshness of a lucky Irish lad on spartan turf seeing
his love. His four leaf (c)lover.
1.2k · Dec 2017
hells yes
wordvango Dec 2017
to my delight,
   for I was only six months away
      from letting her know
           my dreams and desires,
she asked me
    out of the blue
        to lunch with her
            sit-down, not buffet;
as she proffered
    the offer her eyes
           kind of sparkled
               and she tilted her head
to the left, touched
    her hair... now this
          was unexpected a tad urgent
               as I rewrote  
                 the novel-erased all my fears.
She touched my forearm gently
     and I saw
              sparkles and fireworks
                   and candlelit dinners
as all that
     would utter from
               my mouth agape
                     over and over again
was hells yes....hells yes
1.2k · Sep 2017
comment on a Daily
wordvango Sep 2017
Mike Marshall  Patriotism

The politicians have been milking the patriotism cow for some time, at the same time they want to ignore veterans' needs. As soon as some citizen on the street or representative in Congress or the white house starts espousing patriotism, a big red flag goes up in my mind. "Patriotism" is the first refuge of carpetbaggers, and it trips my gag reflex.

True patriots are not shouting their esprit from the rooftops or in front of microphones. True patriots are quietly doing patriotic things and they ask for no recognition for doing what seems natural and necessary.

Our alleged leaders get us into wars that are unnecessary and often detrimental to our own best interests. Our soldiers, sailors, and airmen do their bidding, right or wrong. They do so without asking for anything from us except support. And we can support the soldiers without necessarily condoning the leaders who put them in harm’s way, and often forget about them when they come home, unless it's election time. Then these same self-gratifying idiots bring out the flags and thump their chests.

Let's remember the flag is merely a cloth with a design on it that represents some very great and lofty goals, including the right to express our opinions, our dreams, and our dissent. We cannot lessen the worthiness of those goals by burning a red white and blue piece of fabric or kneeling during the playing of our national anthem. But we can damage those aspirations and the symbolism of our flag and anthem by denying our fellow humans the right to express them.

Let's focus instead on upholding those things we believe in. Let's buy a meal for a homeless person. Let's make sure our neighbor does not have to choose between eating and buying needed medicine or health care. Let's ensure children don't have to go hungry. Let's endeavor to provide an affordable education to all of our children because that secures their future and the future of this country. The thing I have the least time to consider is whether or not some human is burning a flag or taking a knee somewhere. And standing for the anthem doesn't make you a patriot any more than wearing a cowboy hat makes you a cowboy.

Each verse of The Star-Spangled Banner ends with "O'er the land of the free." Both the flag and the anthem symbolize the freedoms our forefathers gave their lives for. Why? Because they valued those principles (freedom of speech, etc.) so highly. Freedom of expression is freedom of speech. That was decided hundreds of years ago. I would defend anyone's right to freely express themselves. That means they can stand, kneel, squat, sit, lay down, or stand on their heads. But I will never defend any person's right to suppress the very rights that our flag and anthem symbolize.
I reject the divisiveness of Trump and every other small mind that does not understand or appreciate how freedom of speech actually works and is actually represented by our flag and anthem.
The ultimate disrespect to our country, to our flag, to our national anthem, to our founding fathers, and to the soldiers who suffered for us to protect our right to take a knee is to deny the absolute freedom of speech embodied in our Constitution.
So well said in a comment I had to share it!  Bravo
Mike Marshall
1.2k · Nov 2014
conductor
wordvango Nov 2014
I and you are an orchestra,
  I use my whole body as my baton, you accompany
together my instrument, I a director,
  you my symphony, my harp my
harmony, my musician. My composition
  alone is arms waving in air, our collaboration
is entrance
   about to come into destiny count and circumstance,
twirls we do you on your melodies,
I
my baton.
1.2k · Mar 2015
diagnosis:
wordvango Mar 2015
Two years ago diagnosed with colorectal  reluctance,
that is what the doctor said,
he said,
I had a hemorrhoid the size of my head,
growing on my shoulders.
I scratched my itchy ears,
could not believe what I heard.
I said, I knew that,
I came here for genital warts.
******
1.2k · Sep 2016
once upon a day
wordvango Sep 2016
a color was a thought of painting
and poetry and literature
sadly
my son took a crayon
held it in the air  it was flesh
said right on the paper wrapper
and asked
dad, this says flesh
and I see all kinds  of color
in people,
why?
Why what?
I asked trying to narrow his
question down,
He said , it is  pink,
it don't look like my skin
or yours
and I wondered
if  I drew a man
do I have to use this to
color him with?
I answered , I don't know if
correctly,
no son,
use all the crayons
grab as many as you can
make a rainbow
man,
that would be better
wordvango Mar 2015
Absquatulate,
           flee to the unknown,
where I can be an organism
            of concinnity,
deipnosophist I will,
            dine with Plato on an herb
deracinate me,
             become a dance or song
with effable eternity
flatline...

to infinity,
or possibly....

continue to hunt and peck.
1.2k · Dec 2018
Orgyness
wordvango Dec 2018
I am scant a savant and know it
I do I am just a wannabe poet
A shrew a devotee of
Poe and others
I wish for their talent
And notoriety
At a loss for words
Occasionally I just
Go ahead
And make them up
Dream up a verb
Ending in q
or a noun with no subject
I do
And shame is a good
Descriptive word
Adjective or adverb
I think I am sane
As I digress nightly
into a colored light fest
Of  was crayoned
flesh
On the canvas
wordvango Jan 2016
Do not stand at my grave and weep:
I am not there; I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond glints on snow,
I am the sun on ripened grain,
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning’s hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circling flight.
I am the soft starshine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry:
I am not there; I did not die.
This consoling elegy had a very mysterious genesis, as it was written by Mary Elizabeth Frye, a Baltimore housewife who lacked a formal education, having been orphaned at age three. She had never written poetry before. Frye wrote the poem on a ripped-off piece of a brown grocery bag, in a burst of compassion for a Jewish girl who had fled the Holocaust only to receive news that her mother had died in Germany. The girl was weeping inconsolably because she couldn't visit her mother's grave to share her tears of love and bereavement. When the poem was named Britain's most popular poem in a 1996 Bookworm poll, with more than 30,000 call-in votes despite not having been one of the critics' nominations, an unlettered orphan girl had seemingly surpassed all England's many cultured and degreed ivory towerists in the public's estimation. Although the poem's origin was disputed for some time (it had been attributed to Native American and other sources), Frye's authorship was confirmed in 1998 after investigative research by Abigail Van Buren, the newspaper columnist better known as "Dear Abby." The poem has also been called "I Am" due to its rather biblical repetitions of the phrase. Frye never formally published or copyrighted the poem, so we believe it is in the public domain and can be shared, although we recommend that it not be used for commercial purposes, since Frye never tried to profit from it herself.
1.2k · Jun 2015
Artisanal Pickles
wordvango Jun 2015
commonly in a brine
   may be pigs feet or beets
whereas where she may be
    they are called gherkins
bread and butter
       ploughman's lunch
or caught between
      second and third
if it but was
      a children's game,
Take a hit with my pipe
          there might my predicament
resolve how my pickle will ever
     reach all the way ,
I wonder my lips pursed,
      to the old country.
It just might.
1.2k · Nov 2015
I get so high
wordvango Nov 2015
by your voice
I dream of your green eyed wisdom
floating metaphorically  
upon clouds and wind
your songs must be
there in blood spilled ink
I get high recalling
thy blushing cheeks
full lips quoting Whitman to me
softer on a hill than Autumn's calm
I fly high when
wings and turtle doves
by your voice breathe alive:


wildlife into life
you create
imagination so surreal,
your essence calms the storms,
growling rains,
beats back thunders and winds
in quickening heartbeats:
with green eyes
glance I remember there
on a page to
be treasured by I,
you and your dancing
so beautiful,
In trance I grasp

love. dance to your
songs
1.2k · Feb 2015
Immolation of Nagasaki
wordvango Feb 2015
Good or Evil?
Thousands of Americans saved.
Sacrificed in one second
were Japanese children,
Is killing ever just?
Proportional
may not be sufficient.
Is it better
in the end to  ****
or be killed.
How do we answer?
Conceive loving
the words of the Bible,
many times contrary,
An eye for an eye
or Thou Shalt not ****.
How to moralize or defend
so many deaths.
1.2k · Nov 2014
I amaze my stupid ass
wordvango Nov 2014
amazing
  in a ******* way is how I can be a genius at being stupid.
All it takes is one wrong word to set me on the war path!
   One hit from the pipe or one firewater sip too many,
I can be off scalping writing my name on bare heads.
   I am a sparkler lit, at times, that is why I have singed eyebrows.
Wear Goodwill clothes, drink from neighbors faucets.
   Walk, most times, where I go, I have gone through
1000 pairs of mocassins in just one year.
    I no longer have any desires, to be smart, nor smoke the peace pipe.
I am on a warpath. Wondering where this is leading.
1.2k · Dec 2018
her
wordvango Dec 2018
her
Then a wind blew from northern
To here up a skirt
And the silk stockings
Hued like mist tween the mountains
Over thigh through a valley to
here adrift woman scented
Smoky rushing through vein
As fire arush  through blushing
tip onto the pyre
lit anew
That brief heaven glimpse upon a promise grew
A future
I am here now
As I tilted and
Honored
My grandiose
Windmill
My darling
1.2k · Oct 2014
sprouts
wordvango Oct 2014
It comes along paths
when a song
long dormant seemingly made-
effortlessly
adorned said: That, I was,
once overlooked:
now prairies sprout
all by its eloquence, beauty
is the elements,
the next green sprout-
from dirt
alone,
comes out
to
a sun
it knew.
1.2k · Nov 2014
Untitled
wordvango Nov 2014
In a little lighter vein, the one, 'tween my toes,
I sink narcoticly into a bubble bath of ice and epsom salts,
slurring I say ****, this is relaxing me, this may have been too much.
My chest is heavy my stomach hurts.
I run the water again, belch, then,
hold my breath blowing all the hurt
out my ***.
Now I have the warmest,
though,
smelly,
more
bubbly
bath.
1.2k · Nov 2014
On shore
wordvango Nov 2014
in a river flow
you see me I am
a limb  or leave
soft demeanor when I float down
I am at nature's mercy;
quite like now.

You see my limbs thrash
trying to tread water as
no one else does

you get high when I am
low when I sink under;
you are my lifesaver.

Then, on the shore I come up on,
you are there, a hand hold,
you are my float.

I've floated on other streams,
went under, many times.
Never came up gasping
seeing my dreams.

Never have I paddled over
limbs and debris,
raised my head and seen  
heaven.
1.2k · Aug 2018
Unto her
wordvango Aug 2018
Arms flesh spirals rocketing
   Climbing bursting over through cloudsspace dust particles
   Explosive birth
Coronas starlights fast
     Grasped in the black
Clasped together
        In the sparkling
Universe
            Oneness symmetric
A glimpse
             Oh my love,
Heaven.
1.2k · Dec 2014
would a could a been
wordvango Dec 2014
a bean or a pod having motivation inside recreating
life more energetic and clever than any parent
then get ate or flushed down ten million toilets
infiltrate society with words because it is in sewers
sanguine and quixotic indifferent
a breath is toxic to me
I venture Walter Mitty like fantasies theorize
tomorrow when I forgot yesterday,
introduce substances to discourse entertainers
abstract the emphasis transcendentally
blue-sky enterprises authentically created  as I
turn around and cry.
1.2k · Aug 2015
little pandas
wordvango Aug 2015
there she sat licking her paws
and her teats red and raw,
pondering, perhaps, how four black
and white kittens
happened.

There in a laundry basket
four little kittens mewed,
wondering where, their momma
was, all they knew was
hunger.

Finally settling together
all curled around each other,
all given spent in their mews,
they slept one white
and black furry
cute.

Until momma cat, her name Panda,
finished grooming her tenderness,
returned all awaking their
mewing, again.
And she licked them.
1.1k · Sep 2016
the day you were born
wordvango Sep 2016
I have nary a need  a want a breath
no sundries, none wet,
no bucket or list of
climbing Mt Everest
or skydiving,
not a single wish left,
when they were answered,
all of them, my life became complete,
the day you were born.
1.1k · Nov 2014
ode to Mabel
wordvango Nov 2014
Mabel is breathing....
    no one ever visits.
She has tended flowers and done laundry all
    life for others.
No one needs her.
    She has a bad knee and
Neuropathy , subsists now on pain medication and sugars.
    No one calls her.
She envisions one day getting flowers.
    Or hearing again from that gentleman, who
twenty years ago smiled.
    Or her children or grand young ens';
but no one writes her one letter.
     In the cold she wears all those sweaters she knitted.
So no  people remember her, I will!
    I visit and bring the flowers I grew specially
for her,
    the prettiest yellow roses,
while she lives!
1.1k · Oct 2014
Untitled
wordvango Oct 2014
Painters hands always so messy oiled up
reek of turpentine smoke moonshine
Alizarin crimson streaks lamp black roots
their faces gesso'd to unreality they fan
brushes broken
canvases filled to their brim
much as poets
who reek of  one day's and starlights
mountain peaks they haven't seen
Martini's black in white spaces, coats waiting to attack,
tie up.
With dried up pens, filled notebook paper.
1.1k · Nov 2014
to my Juliet:
wordvango Nov 2014
Onto a wall I post my claim for love beneath
thy balcony in Verona! I borrow thy name, Juliet,
my love is for her. I too have witnessed mine and thine passions,
I love her so, as did thee.
So, under thy balcony I left a poem,
a rose to another name,
a love I seek!
Help me William and Romeo and Juliet,
to send her my visions!
1.1k · Apr 2015
i felt
wordvango Apr 2015
when I read Emerson
just the same
as when hearing
Led Zeppelin
or watching
Breakfast at Tiffany's
just a bit of breathlessness,
a spasm of
echoes ringing bells
Cat,
reflecting back,
in my gasps,
about to burst into tears,
touch,
deeply,
I don't understand it.
It,
is in me,
just driving, on on, endlessly,
the motif, the Theme,
rhythm.
1.1k · Aug 2014
Recess
wordvango Aug 2014
stuff me full of arithmetic
Capitols, History, epitaphs,
Let me
dissect a frog, what glory!
Tell me, to forget, though, what bothers me.
I will soak in your trig geometry,
lonely,
relentlessly ignoring
your lessons.
Unless, you pay me
some attention.
1.1k · Aug 2016
Do we have enough?
wordvango Aug 2016
can we all hunker down
under the Magnolias
in the sand of the Plantation
driveway under
a confederate flag anymore?

draw our plans like Lee
would have, with a saber
a picture of lines
scribbled in the sand-
our carbine- loaded by our side
at the ready
our heritage the old war
or states rights
or slavery

when so much time and  lives
have passed
and people oughta know more
about peoples,
about history,
about struggling

which all races do.
It wasn't pretty then.
Not the least bit.
And cotton , high or otherwise,
needs no slavery,
and bigotry is
ancient as
sorghum and
horse meat.

And man is man, proven to depend on a
falsity or hate  to
defend his ancestry, his teachings,
instead of the question.

Here, with a stick
I scribble, while
down hunkering,
the least threatening position,
to ask of myself,
have I done what
I could. And the answer
of course,
the black man and the Mexican,
the Redman, the sensible ,
might answer, is
it will take time.
Do we have enough?
1.1k · Jan 2016
finally understand
wordvango Jan 2016
and why does young grass look
at the field with greed and not with
reverence
it is all before him
might I  in youth
been as indifferent
and the old growth withering
understanding
and the young green as money
strong
goes on not knowing
how he got there
and the old once green grass
smiles forgiving
thinking
wait until the day
comes the rain lets you
wait and the wind
whips you naked
and then the sun burns you
brown and crisp
and you look on upon your shoots
when you are almost dead
and you care so much for them
and wise then
you finally
understand.
wordvango Nov 2014
When I was young I had a net,
caught Monarchs in it, fevers.
     lemonade smiles
swang up to the winged tops
       of those tall trees on it
ran around, topsy curvy chasing falling
     making green knees,
mom didn't  like me
       all brown and green
all hot and fevered.
1.1k · Mar 2017
bad with pickup lines
wordvango Mar 2017
my successes came when
I said please and thank you
tipped my hat
looked her straight in the eyes
without blinking and said
you are so interesting
care to get a cup of coffee sometime
just simply sincere
and she would smile
most of the times
then say sure would
coffee would often lead to
a beer later
a goodnight kiss
a late embrace
another date
not innocent
at all ever
we stood our ground just
a little Gentlemanliness
still
in this day and age
can make a man wealthy
healthy
and smile
1.1k · Mar 2016
I got out of jail
wordvango Mar 2016
where ironically I had met two good people,
they like me got caught up in the desires
of too much too easily, turned white powder or green buds
into easy money, got ratted out by some bad dudes.

Time and space compressed into six by eight
and seconds so vast , made you question  god
sanity your preferences and friends. Made me dream of cigarettes.
Lit up then disappearing as I tried to take a puff.

forgot desires dreams tomorrow, it's the way
the condemned survive. Gave up the thoughts of revenge, tried to
stop the constant dread of closing eyes
seeing your two year old or wife crying.

made a way around the baddest cons, gotta face them
eye to eye or be their ***** forever, and the iron did not ever
take that from me. It stole my soul pride independence future
kids hope and religion, never made me ****, never could,
make me that.

I was told what to eat when to talk walk sit stand speak, yeah
like a dog, had my fill of thugs guards wardens parole boards
the rec room the basketball court the scene,
then came across two of the baddest dudes

quite like me who took their lumps, showed me how to
make great tacos out  of commissary crud, how to roll a
toilet paper cigarette , how to hide my shank and my pencils.

they told me of the dudes who caved in to the feds
and got off for turning them in. What they once had plans
to do to them. But got smart. So smart they became teachers preachers
jailhouse lawyers superfly calm and confident inside.

And I got out.
I had never fallen for the jailhouse Christian ****, the hail mary's said by the crack head murderers who thought JC might get them out. The child rapists, house invaders, lower than dogs, who promised, with
that emptiness of eye that they now were saved.******* weak hypocrites. ******* electric chair heros, crying I am sorry. Fry them.

It was Saturday night. They gave me a set of clothes and twenty bucks.
Pushed me out into the night, clutching a small piece of paper that held my two friends  names and jailhouse numbers on it. I had something.
I walked as far as fast as I could. No destination in mind, no course plotted, I walked up hill this time though. The hard way I had been taught.

I arrived at a fancy Cathedral in town at ten the next morning. Marveled at the well dressed people and fancy cars. Everything seemed
shining. Until I saw all the well- heeled turn around and gasp as
I sank wearily alone into the back pew.

I woke up with people washing my feet.
Now I gotta write Jimmy and Bubba in jail,
and profess, there is hope.
Tell them there is more than us three
good people on earth.
1.1k · Jan 2016
Joy
wordvango Jan 2016
Joy
from  depths of chaos hope
with the next bud of **** grows
through the loam
nubile  tiny leaf
reaching , a tender glimpse of
restless eternity which
seems to
stand and applaud
1.1k · Aug 2015
i AM
wordvango Aug 2015
not CONTAINED
in COMPLAINTS
or MOURNING for an
ANTIDOTE or new adhd DRUG
THE glue fumes get me through
even though my LEFT NOSTRIL
is always stuffed up,
and my ROTC uniform makes me stand out
so, at RECESS, i SAY, nothing.
1.1k · Apr 2015
specially vivid
wordvango Apr 2015
are glimmers talks with someones eyes
listening, you know,
when care is real and flow is
felt and right is there and rhythm
goes straight forward with no doubt
from eye to eye
mouth to heart
soul to soul
and tears felt flow with confidence
that now
is then what all you waited for.
the day is now no more
awaiting for that day to live.
You are living
now.
1.1k · Dec 2016
!!!!!
wordvango Dec 2016
fated , seemingly to
draw human verbs out of
symmetry
in nature
homonyms
and culture
right now I sculpted a kiss out of aluminum
cans and bubble gum wrappers I found
under my couch
crafted a verb
standing proud shiny and sticky
stuck it on my mail box
the mail woman will be
surprised!!!!!
1.1k · Oct 2014
pitter patter
wordvango Oct 2014
Here a pitter there a patter
all swallows have scattered
hid as squirrels did and
then I almost  splattered this frog leaping
narrowly missed my footfall he did
grasshoppers cricket 
their back legs a mating calling

for the night a date so quaintly the
grass glitters on dew drop glittery moon lit  glows
slippery silver lazing up above the Pecan tree
ripe from the summer making
flows

the squirrels in this pittering
pattering drizzle
wait inside their nests
to get
one day
the
sun comes
out,
next.
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