You can’t write the clear biography
of the aches and pains inside your skull”

~ Harrison from Skull /  Songs of Unreason

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Stoicism is a prison

Though I break out

Though I break down

Through the pull of a merciful act

Then I’m old and too weak to hold back

I can imagine a troubled

Panicked angel tangled double;

One cat caught in a grate

A girl unfair in a wheelchair

Nears and dares her balance, her endurance, her tolerance

Strains all of her weight

Shows the pain that she’s used to on her face

Then relief, and they’re both free

She and the cat both refuse to

Cry more,

Like those that might see

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16F

May 14, 2018

A windowseat is great

In an all night diner

It was unfair the Airport

Shorted  me  enough

Stuffed me, a long-legged  man

With a long-winded rant

I stifled in my windowseat.

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My legs were cropped up crinkled

Like the babies sitting next me

Their cries exited and were emitted freely

Some cries  deep inside  deep inside me.

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I bet one windowseat would be great

In a darkened diner

My inner world would wander

That  eighteen  wheeler

Lots of legroom  not so tight

Roads to walk  upright

 

SHE WAS THE FIRST TO GO

August 18, 2017

 

 

 

It might have been one long neon light

In the laundromat that set her off

When it flickered & popped

At us/ All of us up late

Our eyes were hypnotized some

All bets were off

On what might happen

She was the first to go

To distract us from our books & hand-machines,

Pull us from our puzzles, also  our magazines

Her  saying all that nonsense  fouled by fire

Interrupted  that late night scene

Her  calling  names  out

All intense,  Her pleas

We stared some  & stuck out that someone’d stop her

Her call to fallen reveries

Her  own  effin reveries

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(2012)

ASSIGNMENT BLAME

May 23, 2017

paper_stacks_by_tamsone-dq1d9a

Still nights I will not change I will cringe

I’m tightly bound to make  my inner fringe

Break down  in private next door rooms

They’ll up & drop tears  from my say  they assume

I’ve meant no harm  though my charm

Might be misplaced /  an anvil fills my frail arms

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“The Artist’s Dream” by Emil Holarek

Emil Holarek

i)

When every windy day

We’re over there to the cemetery

When wind chimes sing  from a tree

This  is  Melissa

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ii)

When friends fade

(Yet, the few you let love you).

When one’s forced to infer

Another gone/next connection

Immense  with interference

Then,  It’s  fierce

When friends fade

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iii)

You sure yr future dreams come mourning don’t manifest doubtful?

What you want can’t cum out full

As sure as your shy shouts ain’t heard

You’re frightened you mighten  give up on promise.

But never your word.

 

Wanda wanted a room

To tend to her wounds,

A room right open to a night

Open enough not to catch her kite.

Her wounds would not be

Upon her face  facile to see.

Bruising blows drubbed freedom

Inside, inside some  clubroom.

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C R E S C E N T

April 13, 2015

My ache in my neck

Disables him some

His taking this strange stretch

To check out this chart, um,

On one wall, like  Art,

To notice how tonight’s moon might

Look w/its own share of sunlight.

For  my/

Ache in my neck/ Sorry/

I’m hostage to/

Necessity.

L O O K

June 15, 2014

 

 

Hope  we’re having a heaven so

I’ll look and

Daddy can call out,  (& it won’t hurt)

He’ll look just like he just got home from work:

“There’s my angry young man”.

We’d have it out;

My young man’s misery,

His young man’s mystery.

We’d upheave it out.  Heavy inquiry.

If he hadn’t killed himself he might have taught me:

“you gotta take the bitter with the cold”

Outside, My Mother softened things when she told me

When I was ready she told me:

“I know,

It’s vile.

He was so very sick.

They say  You/   Have his look.

It  is   mostly  OK,

You know.

I say  you’ll  have  my  smile”.

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.                                                                                    RKM (3/21/29-5/29/59)  RIP

S L E I G H T

February 5, 2014

It would serve him fine no doubt

As a temporary fix

(Until she found him out)

Him; an impure two-fisted noir caricature

Deaden dampening 30 thirsts

Certainly fully filling out his lies to lines to pages to prayers purged

(Yet not nearly all urged out)

It would serve no doubt as a temporary fix

He’s a master at  bait n switch

Sleight  of  hand

It’s his bloodline

He’s a man’s man of a man behind his  curtains

Pay him no mind

S U R P R I Z E

February 3, 2014

I’m so sore I’m sure to call out

And I suppose   surprize them

That’ll  alert them to my hurt

An open wound now

I’ll flinch & grimace

& limp away as surprized as Lazereth

Aware of all this all again

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.(from 2011)
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.for Phillip, Rest in peace