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Zabada Zipporah Apr 2014
i fumble around in darkness, even during the day
and my faint memory of this place helps me none.
i ask "why did you leave me?"
and you reply the same as always - silence
so i stumble through life feeling for the familiar
nothing ever seems right with out you
pleasantly, you appear to me during dreams yet filling my mind of agony
i grasp a hold onto you every time,
so how is it that i awake from sleep and you still aren't here with me
life seems as if its the Armageddon, because with everyday
my spirit goes astray,
i hear its abandoning footsteps down the hall
like timed grenades synchronized to the beat of my heart.
and yet i feel no distress as it departs,
because see you took the one thing that completes me.
foolishly i sting my finger tips on the sockets
while caressing my way through
so i figure ill turn the tv on
even though showtime is no longer fun with out you.
and to really think about it, you made all the difference
now everything is just different with you gone.
no warning and no goodbye,
i didn't know i could still produce tears with out site
so what do the other 4 mean without number 5?
the lawn mower outside woke me up that morning,
and the grass smelt calm, i could hear so clear the birds soaring through the trees - one at a time
toothpaste never tasted so strong
and though the volume was never changed
there's even a difference in my song.
i can only feel the pictures on the walls,
and it hurts to picture them in my mind at all.
if only i could sleep until time restored you,
but its better to have loved and lost
then to not have had you.
so what is vision?
the end or the beginning?
first draft of this tell me how you like it
A light cracked the door,
And we heard:
"All rise."
He was experiencing Justice
Behind the glass, in a box.
He scratched and stretched
Skin over his eyes and stubbled face,
Needing a fix for his appearance.
Something was unbalanced
Before me.
Our view was that of figures bending,
Whispering inaudibly,
With ear pieces and muffled mikes,
Suspending us, and time.

At recess we talked of trials and errors,
And recalled the blind man's bluff;
Then someone called us over.

A solemnity plea was set before the judge.
Did he hear:
"Just over the limit...
Machines have a rate of variability..."

He wore no belt or laces,
And probably no socks.
That could make him unbalanced.

"All rise."
Again and again.

I almost fell to my knees,
Pressed and raised my hands
To surrender.

And I was just a witness.
  Apr 2014 Zabada Zipporah
SG Holter
Generation Playstation.
How many of you know that when it's two o'clock
The sun points
South?

I grew up falling down from trees and hills.
But I also taught myself to make fire
Without fire.
I drank too, as a teenager.
We drank around bonfires.

When we came home red-eyed, smoke-smelling and usually superficially
Cut, our fathers would pretend
Not to be proud.

We saw right through it, just like our mothers did.
They felt they had to say something.
They did, and we pretended to listen,
For the sake of peace to rest.

There was no room for drugs:

We were already
Happy.
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