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Rated: E · Poetry · Arts · #2141624
Poetry of a confined heart.

The plague
Leaving you alone and afraid
Tried and played
Standing on a stage
Behind a screech and a skid

Turn the page

Back to cribs and bibs
When life
Simmered in your ribs
When we shivered with pleas
Waiting for the keys
Like woods without trees,
Those trees without leaves,
Cries without screams;
A player without a team.

Remember what it means...

When life opened at the seams
So pupils
could see dreams
And saw the machine

Of thoughts:

A pinball of plots
Being weary and proud
And to matter
In moments between clouds
With blue skies as the ladder.

When the sun speaks loud
Darkness scatters.

A bottle crashes
Shatters its glasses;
It jukes and slashes
Into dust and ashes

On the bar...

No more shards
Just stars.
The scars
Don't pass
Like fast cars
They last
Like bars
In Rilke's 'Panther'

So Pause...

For an answer...

Then move
Like a dancer

Ask for the chance to


No matter what city, tribe
Or state-of-mind
Can be left behind.

Falling eyes is the fine
For speeding through time.

But time has a way
Of catching those who stray
From the flock
Like 'Nothing Gold Can Stay'
There's no way
To beat the clock.


It passes on a whim
So hold the glass
To your chin
And sip
From the cup
You pour your heart in.

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