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 Aug 2015 Thomas EG
aar505n
We seem to gravitate towards coffee shops, even those who don't like hot beverages find themselves there. I suppose it's a good place to let go your baggage. Lose yourself for five minutes. Loosen up and unwind. That's hard to do even on a good day. The world always has an agenda that needs seeing to. Rather selfish of the Earth to be honest, and quite damaging to your self worth. You can't be at it's beck and call 24/7. But we try to, dear God do we try. Of course this leads to us burning up rather spectacularly. Giving, worrying, stressing, doing. Until we are left smoking, steam rising like a freshly made coffee. But nothing is fresh here. Burnt coffee. Unusable. No longer capable of the great feats we once were. Like the world had chewed us up and spit us out when we're no longer useful. What a *******. But what can you do to stop a *******? Not much as they are inheritly selfish - deep down in their very core, nothing but molten arrogance, festering beneath their skin this sense of entitlement. That is what it is. You can't change the world from what it is. Just as much as you can not change who you are. So take five minutes and go to a coffee shop. Lose yourself in a hot beverage. Watch the steam rise and be thankful it isn't yours.
Banana slug dance in evening, waiting for the fire to tire
Seashells beg for rain
While in summer, electric blue midnight comes to an end
Too true too are dripping droplets on sandy patch
Shore lapping and rose hip land locked in garden was trapped

Moon hangs upside down, casting beams on boulders where stacks of snails stare transfixed by licks of light on glistening trails
And beneath it all, a lonely lobster sings a sorry song
A lament to the lost and the already gone
 Aug 2015 Thomas EG
aar505n
The sea is painted by the clouds above.
As they gently drift across the sky.
Changing shades - allowing just the right amount of light
To reach the water's surface like it's a canvas.
Creating something beautiful for just a moment.
Then something even more beautiful in the next.

A painting that is still being painted
Shows no signs in ending.
As it paints a story.
From dark and stormy blues - to calm orange sunsets.
Unbiased in it's shading - reveals love at its purest.

And that is something I can admire.
For it is something I require - desire.
But I am mired by the past.
Can not pass it.
I guess my luck's expired.

I like to forget this for awhile.
So I look out and smile.
At the sea being painted by the clouds above.
Knowing I will never know this love.
 Jul 2015 Thomas EG
aar505n
Dormancy
 Jul 2015 Thomas EG
aar505n
When the words became too real
It was given a beat
And we dance to it
Till meaning was lost
A smokescreen to hide
What was meant for others
But the words are still there
Still wield their power
Not extinct
Just dormant
 Jul 2015 Thomas EG
Hannah Beth
I'd almost forgotten the smell of your perfume
Though it makes sense
That even the most faded of memories
Must have a curfew
Nnnnggghhhblehggghh
 Jul 2015 Thomas EG
aar505n
In
Limbo.
Foot-in-doors.
Perfect opening lines.
Holding on to high hopes.
These beginnings are unfulfilled
Books started but never finished.
A seed planted but never watered.
Ideas thought off but never sought.
Best laid plans becoming ephemeral.
Music ending with an interrupt cadence.
Weighed in balances and found wanting.
*Wanting.
Never
Getting.
Starting.
Never
Finishing.
Just a little ditty on where I'm at currently. A little hyperbole but the sentiment is still tru
 Jul 2015 Thomas EG
aar505n
I couldn't find peace so I went out into the rain,
To find a way to stop the pain.
Let my brain unravel at the seems.
Flow away with the drops down the stream.
Little boat in the rain.
Float away, float away.
Sailing from me while I stay anchored with empty thoughts.
At peace -  but vacant.
 Jul 2015 Thomas EG
Hannah Beth
On a polished oak desk
Wrapped in a thin dust-jacket
Lies an unused pen,
A blank sheet of paper,
And an empty pack of cigarettes.

I used to think that if these things could breathe, they would be loneliness personified.

But that's wrong.
If they lived, they wouldn't be lonely at all.
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