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I see the joy
sparkling in his eyes

Like a kid
in a mans body

Wise
yet still playful

Grounded
Meticulous

His presence
is comforting
powerful

I see the age in his face
like the surface of the earth
worn
but not exhausted
Kinda short but oh well 😁 This is about one of my favorite artists so enjoy. If you know, you know.
~ inspired by, & for Sally~

the modern internal combustion engine
is a series of controlled explosions, a spark
ignites the flammable gasoline, the pistons
moving, dispensing energy to turn our
wheels so we may voyage as a pair, to
there, and to here:

our very hearts, the original model of
this energetic blood disbursement of
oxygen ignited by electric pulsations,

one contemplates
at this late hour, at this late date, when the
moving parts, obedient servants,
collectively concur
that the use-by-date has nearly arrived and
we must soon take a sabbatical to the whereafter

what two, surely not three, digits will complete the right side of our hyphen,
our from~ to, as if that were an achievement,
more than merely, an identifying bracelet

think upon it, thousand of explosions,
millions of sparkings electric, we have been
engineering our reactors to go to over 100%,
until we cry out
how long you gonna run that body down,
and when the answer is ascertained,
we now done and undone,

we
no longer care, that last datum,
we are, of it, unconscious,
the date prior inscribed in flesh,
its mate, its uncomplimentary
complement,
can be only scribed in
Vermont granite,
as a warning
to any passerby
that yet harbors
the illusory that
the future can
be foretold
Nov 19~ Nov
My slanguage
keeps the fire hot
my feet against the coals

My slanguage
what the critics hate
new venom to extol

My slanguage
whether read or sung
its message still the same

My slanguage
seeding my rebirth
— lost within the rain

(Dreamsleep: November, 2024)
Part of a person is what is inside,
Build in your children character and discipline,
So that wherever they go they leave their mark.
22/11/2024
The poor thing got
lost in the escape.
And she was still hungover
from the childhood terror.
Her personality was
ruined--redolent with
the first flowers of
madness.

She made a pretend
world, full of delusions.
A house of cards that
was laden with
lunacy, her insanity
became safe and dependent
on her never taking
responsibility for her
actions--she was a
pawn for the adage,
Hurt people Hurt people,
like Blanche from
A Streetcar Named Desire,
and
Don Quixote,
Her world crumbled and she climbed
into the abyss,
when she looked
deeply into the
mirror of reality.
Here's a link to my you tube channel where I read my poetry.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jRhyjqbFrGI
~
Unusual and cloudless

This slippery world

Today is still contagious

Here is heat, here is rain

Here is love, regardless

Shadows in the scaffolding

Look like a broken alphabet

The sun in its anger

Just won't set

Life and how to do it

Perfectly absent

~
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