Thursday, July 7, 2016



Absorbed, fleeting though it has been
Intake is involuntary
How to sift through plausible trauma
Delivering the useful
As it zips past us in frenzied circles

Movement flows
Into the days as they face me
Negotiating nothing but what I choose to make mine

Owing no one but this self of mine
The vast prowess of potential.

Fantasies, determining mood
Lingering round each ear, eyelash and elbow
Guiding nothing but the interesting whims that fascinate
And distract.

The instincts ricochet
When the err has been caught.
And I know, I know...I know.

These moves have made me
They are mine to hassle and moan
To hustle and groan.
To laugh in abandon
And love without limit.

Polish is evident
In the arena I cater to
Smoothest edges dance along
Infinite disappearing horizons

I laud those collectibles
That stand at attention
Proudly emanating their joy
A result- of my obvious pleasure.

O to be kind to these worn shoulders
To whisper of understanding
With words that wash indifference
Off the molded tomb of regret.

Broken stones maneuver outward
As brushed crumbs of insignificance
Become swept into nothingness
Alive with cleaned slates
Too numerous to mention.

Forgiveness is key,
To the lamentable heart
Beating beneath our own lapels.

Then so it is,
That we bow to tomorrow
And bid a hearty adieu to judgment
And the wistful, pointless reminiscing
Of events and days long gone.

I will lay in bed clean tonight
Washed of the history of what went wrong
And how I got there.
And dream no more of latent criticism
And bum-fucked Egypt.

Nudging instead, the nightfall
And the moon's whisper...
Of rest, rhythm... and reinvention.

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