Original poem #31

Preliminary Report

note to the circle
they are not ready
nor willing
not able to comprehend
 so much stardust
or the nebulas nature
 of dreamtime

daytime dramas rule the roost
cash money crack pipe
and crackerjack apps
street cred
 and fashionable red cars

fear-feeding fat cats
 slinging crude and earthmuck
monkies moonstruck

meanwhile

dancing evasive
 in your dart-about skylights
hanging elusive
 over dead body streetlights
know some of these creatures
 believe


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-Excerpt from citizen's hearing on disclosure

-Original poem #14
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Untitled, original poem #30

under troubled suns
and the constant mist
 of seasons
i am growing something new
something unannounced
and unplanned for

a certain curtained course

though believe me
 when i say i know
that even the wind
 is synergetic happenstance
the resulting swoon
 of sun and moon
  and earth dance


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Untitled, original poem #29

stammering through
 sequential steps
sex
love
breath
stories and vignettes
  wailed in earth shibboleth
what's next

another sharp death
  i presume


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Praise Be to the Perusers!

I’m taking a moment here to thank everybody that’s stopped by and checked out my work. I am surprised and pleased that I get views at all.

As a devourer of written and other web content, I am all too familiar with content creators feeling like their work isn’t getting the attention they’d like. That said, I went into this endeavor not really expecting much of a response and to just have a go at it anyway.

I offer this sincere expression of gratitude to those that have poked their heads into my little corner of the webiverse, for the views, follow clicks, likes, comments, shares and for the kind emails I have received.

Well, that’s all. Thanks a ton and have a good weekend!

-TdP

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Related: A Somewhat More Conventional, Inaugural (almost) Post

Untitled, original poem #28

so a cop gave me this pencil
that's what a poet gets
when he stops a cop for a pen
a cop gives you 
a dixon ticonderoga 1388/hb
 soft of course

i'm glad i brought my moleskine
but i feel like 
 i'm clumsily raping a canvass
   with this lead art harpoon

enough of this tryst
get the gist

i got this pencil from a cop


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Untitled, original poem #27

wooded cloud shadows
casting leaves 
and lost hope from long stalks
weave blankets on old roads
where I take myself on walks

leaves litter gravestones
legs moving old bones
slow roads like river stones

i wind my way through life


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Untitled, original poem #26

mother
i am losing my youth
there are so many things
 i should have said
 or shed
 when my leaves were still wet
before my winter came
  and snowflakes
    began tasting
     of memories

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