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Showing posts from March, 2026

this lucky, unlucky living

Dearest reader, Here is politics --- we people of little power must toil and try to earn, What is bestowed like a gift, this lucky living. And, yes, we share the same God, So, grateful must we be for the little that we get and the plenty they receive --- this lucky, unlucky living. Sincerely, sincerely, with smiles and gunpowder, non-poet writing sad, limp, non-politics. 

i fear there is a living much beyond this

Mitski - Working for the Knife I fear there is a living much beyond this I fear I exist in places I do not know. A friend wrote to me, said he finds no peace --- the way we yearn for a thing we do not yet know.  Alas, the air has warmed Spring has so quickly come and gone. All before I could awaken That winter slumber, my seeds not yet sown. I fear there is a living made for a taller person, a better woman, and she flourishes in the avenues --- Atlantis of peoples' souls. And they tell me about her, eyes gleaming, that hopeful pearly gaze, Hand me her shoes, her gown, her coat, But I have not yet grown.

it takes two to tango

Melody Gardot - Um Beijo it takes two to tango, they say so, will you speak gently to me? if i spew fire, be water --- you know if i miss a step, you may go ahead and miss a step or two so then, i may correct you --- you know and you may keep your hands folded in prayer, whichever God lest in whimsy, they decide to roam --- you know keep up with the beat until I tire and lean, then your hands may do other things --- you know

grief is a funny little thing

Grief is a funny little thing, Most days, I forget. What it was that I was grieving, What melodies carried my laments. Because most times I feel empowered, I am strong, I forget the thing. But grief comes and goes like a funny fling. The pillow that I sleep on A night, so quiet and tender. Creeps in under the blanket, weighted footsteps dipping the mattress; My sorry bed. Like a lover, long forgotten --- returning.  Grief like a rushed spring Gone cold for all the mundane, And when the day is good; meets me at the curb. As if to say, Darling, you've grown lovely! Rousing the lulled grief; Making it a verb.