Purgatory and Main

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Poetic purgatory’s a place between,
the best of all verse never to be seen.
Visions undefinable, feelings unfelt
and sensations inconceivable, when
squeeze, squeeze, squeeze, squoze,
jumbled noise and random shapes,
blurry sounds and perception escapes.

Normalcy‘s all a part of prose.
Unheard the whispers whose echo grows,
frequency seldom as anyone knows.
Oh no, no, no and so the rhythm comes and goes.
Mind distracted by orderly thought.
Moments rest all for naught.
Escapers of dreams always caught.

Then times sold, image bought and change sought,
until the dollars sign to buy an eternity.
Though sense is never free, so why, why, why –
Why won’t desires die?

~

sck081017

Morning Triku #155 – Drums Rolling

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Taxing Tax Free

The nice thing about
being an author is you
wrote your own paycheck.

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More or Less

If you try sometime
you do find you get what you
tried for but no more.

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Dueling Wits, I Coulda Had a G8

If a sum’s greater
than its parts, then parts lacking
must be a summit.

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sck070717

Dopplegingerjibberishargh!

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Time changes a changing day.
A change of heart just beats away.
Respect and admiration flow gleefully.
Desires swell exponentially.

Courage grows when feet should run.
Dreams await when words be fun.
With no eyes, face or voice to engage,
letters askew from heart, hand to page.

Lives texted is now the rage
Costumes change when word’s the stage.
Act’s order confused when time’s a game.
This world virtual is never the same.

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sck070517