What are poets for?
We conquer littleness, obtaining
success that only makes us small,
while, unconstrained and unconstraining,
the permanent eludes us all
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- 1294 reads
what happened, when?
when it comes to grips with these life choices, back pocket begins to burn, there is no wallet, something has finished. paid for. where to go from here, did we take the only road?
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- 938 reads
"The past walks among us..."
The past walks among us, Lives our life for us, Betrays the present, Like nobles the peasant, And strikes the day down blind. (The grind Of past wretchedness:
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- 416 reads
A Few Haikus
1 Words life narration Seep through the gaps of cultures Causing confusion 2 An ant focusing On the toil of the day on Impassive mountains 3 Walking in the park
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- 462 reads
A Parodox
You stop me from being Blind to the world, unseeing, And all my hate consorts with your being, And anger sparks, me bereft of seeing An ill consumed wind between us,
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- 377 reads
Being Broken
A log cabin in the Amazon tells its tale of unfortunate love while they, standing before it, look on unsympathetically. The sky is crushing them and they will never know it.
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- 717 reads
Bi-polar
when it comes it comes, this self void hysteria of massive consequence, taking us high. its wings take us to a place not unlike the flower of opium and the cocoa plant. and we fly into mania.
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- 397 reads
Walking Out Out of the City
The sanctified burial ground expresses miles of unrestraint, a death-walk to the clouds, a beautiful land to be consumed by my feet. Death, guide me through to where no people reside
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- 273 reads
Walking Past (St Chad's to the Marina)
Youth is calling me back on it - Times a flourish with yellows, Greens brown white and blue - before the world turns black. The waterfront years on top of jetties,
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- 600 reads
outside staring in and inside staring out
their actions would be me I understand they are me they think me this is me
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- 298 reads
Some Kind of Philosophy
I’ve always needed someone to help me through all this; too bad I’ve never had anyone. Oh I’ve had someone, people here and there, but not really. So I say it again: I’ve never had anyone.
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- 750 reads
Looking Through Windows
We walked along the river as cars zipped by, honking at nothing, lights blaring. The bar across the road (used to be a cinema) way back in the 1950s – or something
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- 617 reads
Illumination
It comes to be seen in all this travel, this migration, as if a shadow falls, and us left to make do, and lost circumstances. There was a sense of belonging at some point
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- 824 reads
Marks on the Horizon
It's all coming together it seems, as we walk through the Victorian Age freshly appreciative. Except high rises on all sides fulminating against us, clinging like sheets
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- 587 reads
Keeping Shtum
The ability to cross the road is all you can ask for these days and hope the flags don't get in your way. They can blind with impunity and keep you rigid at your desk, working to deadline,
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- 504 reads
Stump Sitters
We always end up in the wrong place - the last always being the worst - sharing our bed with dying wasps, and a half-way house for the homeless to sit outside and smoke.
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- 428 reads
False Springs
The weather brightened up for a while and we thought our day had come, but give it a day or two the overarching grimness will return, it must. It has, and us wearing
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- 597 reads
Marching Dilemmas
I close my eyes and see blue patches forming and wonder where they’re taking me. (This starts me off) Lying naked in bed and music, harmonicas and violins
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- 340 reads
Fresh Air
i Quiet in my barroom corner the occasion got to me and words exited their cave desperate for a deep well; the situation was severe but they lacked severity and
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- 369 reads
Phases
I came to this late still late from all the past nuances of imagination, of self-creation - seems like I've been this and that thing a distraction, but always interesting nonetheless -
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- 435 reads
Poem in the style of John Ashbery
Empty of everything the cloud looks magnificent, The sun has gone and all dark the conifer looks at me, And music always outside my window makes sense
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- 548 reads
Comments
I really like this poem of