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?

~

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None Today

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There’ll be no daily sonnet today.

Thought has wandered and gone astray.

Nimble quill won’t dance on parchment bare,

seducing lonely on table near.

 

The well is dry from which I must drink.

Chair is empty were journeys to think.

No inky tears shed, blotted or smeared.

No blackened hands bloodied and feared.

 

Letters scrambled all over my mind.

Their chosen order I cannot find.

Brittle wax puddle proves candles death.

The darkness swallows my daylights breath.

 

Blindness shackles a masked and heavy head.

I shrink into my unwanted bed.

Heart and soul content for tomorrow.

When ink, I hope, once more will flow

~*~

sck082614

Erasing Racings

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We seek to seek a clue
for paths straight and true
where the angle we pursue
is our own point of view.

Degrees unchanged are unseen.
Answers lurk in space between.
All turns return to the mean.
Golden suns and blue sky green.

But the wind never bends.
A loner never lends.
Always best is time with friends.
And the unsummed heart someday mends.

~
sck071517

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

Feathers of Time

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With a bow to fateful inspiration, I shall cast skyward, beyond the heavens and to the heart of a most divine princess. Though this arrow will not pierce nor blemish all that is pure. For it will levitate before her command, awaiting thoughtful reply. It is then thy arrow shall propel and traverse, returning to my waiting, wanting and out stretched hand. And with this most sacred and singular of tools I trust and follow; deserts and plains, rivers, forests, seas and frozen peaks where only the arrow dare soar, I do confidently tread. Upon the highest pinnacle I will see the light and be guided. Drawn by the heat of shared passions, we attract and we shall meld and mold, we will unite as one and become the bow, two parts equal. Tied with care and precision we are flexible and strong. The arrow does no wrong.

~*~

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