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What of Free Will? | Poetry
What of free will? You have none. It isn’t that it doesn’t exist. You simply despise it and refuse to apply it. It’s easy after that. “I have to do this,” you say. “I have to do that.” Then you rise up, collapsing little shit biscuit you are, an...
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I Listen Now | Poetry
A day, a puff of cool air.Fog fingering through dappling boughs as it greets the promising sun.A river, and my steady footsteps.  For too long I accepted the herd’s definition of perfection.For too long I ate quickly, and the food wasn’t re...
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Purposeless | Poetry
It isn’t a waste of time to scream at the stars, or throw out your oatmeal,or watch birds pecking away at the feeder, or dip your feet into swirlingand muddy river water to retrieve a bit of red driftwood. Who makes up such rules anyway? I’d rea...
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Numb Dump | Poetry
Dump the numbness, and they'll dump you.The numb. Days are measured by decay.Nights are measured with cigarettes between stubby yellow fingersand prurient confessions offered with a girlish titter on Facefuck.Morning comes, and the flesh is feel...
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Truly Holy | Poetry
You want me to read your holy scriptures.But all I need to do is take a walk.You call me therefore unsaved.You point to your holy scriptures as proof.You quote me chapter and verse,thinking that somehow settles the matter.But it doesn't.I need no pag...
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Dead Inside | Poetry
Six decades of lifeand I can tell you without hesitationthat most people I have met in that time,or befriended,or dated,or lived with,or sat in church with,or walked around with,or drove by,or slept with,or argued with,or broke up with,or admired,or ...
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Blue | Poetry
Living for the blue.Mostly diminished; perhaps a little cold.Today maybe.Today.Swimming in it, or flying through it.It doesn't matter to my dreams,or that quick sense of terror, of un-control, of spinning giddily on my axis.Overhead or beneath my fee...
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Still Holding to Goodness | Poetry
If the evening holds,I’ll be out holding it.The daily news is a cacophony of catastrophe.The truly good are silencedwhile the hateful and the soul-dead are raised up and glorified.Nobody’s listening.Nobody’s watching.Nobody cares.It is so difficult t...
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You Saw Me | Poetry
The white—momentary, nearly lost in various blue:just a tiny slice of sky.The sun had already set.Smeared blue becoming bluer and bluer,then purple, then sleepy purple, then black.But that momentary white!Changing sky.I was the only one to see it.Any...
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Wondering | Poetry
It doesn’t flow, really.Not the way we think of flow.Not like water.Not like greed.A million years looking up won’t change them.Not even a little bit.Wonder doesn’t flow.It’s a beach ball or a sudden kiss or the denouement in a great film.There or no...
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