Clever? Confused? Or Just Plain Curious

Prose, Poetry and Wonderings

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the opposite of shadow

i am a shadow of every 

memory

i forgot

,

how to con-

struct

,

structures

fil(l)e

d

,

with holes

,

what could have been

,

instead 

none

,

but the loneliness

of everything

,

together as one

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poster

his heart

became his only

art

spreading over the canvas

of

its body

to illustrate the point

that it drew nothing, from

direction

or meaning

it could only

draw

trifling, fleeting thoughts upon

a meandering menagerie of miss-arranged memories

misaligned

by time and misguided emotion misusing the momentum of repeating

patterns, as if

a painting flowing,

with the same colour

,

no closeness or connection

,

just pretty decoration

for the moment

 

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still

i have not been

the prize

that you win

,

or wanted

me,

to be

,

i have 

just

been,

being

,

waiting

and silently seeing

words

suture

,

the fallacy that was their future

that they could ever be heard

over the skin that splits itself

just to get close again

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waking to wake

i was alone

when i was alone

and cried at the sight

of still blue skies

yet rejoiced at the rain

,

it is no longer

that i care for truth

to refrain

but dream

the dreams

,

of

what

has gone

,

sunlight

flying with the clouds

,

till dusk

,

and in this clear

atmosphere

,

there is light

and there is fear

,

there is sleeping

and there is loss

,

there is hunger 

and there is grace

,

there is her brightness 

in the infinite stars piercing 

the darkest night sky

,

silence

,

until storms weep

the loudest

teardrops

,

water

and life

to the lonely earth below

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Revival

love

was dead again

its carcass torn

apart

by wolves of lust and

anguish

its brightness

a dead language

in the bleeding mouths

of poetic lovers

pleadingly reviving

its

still

frozen heart

,

and as blood silently seeps 

from the chest 

of the wolf 

it lived in

,

i quietly weep and smile

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weiroddities

we ended our beginning 

the beginning of 

the way i wished 

to be

,

but

,

admittedly 

our contradictions 

weep, as our

smiles, cry tears 

of joy

,

our idiosyncrasies 

separate seperations

and

meaning

fall

meanderings

are lost

flickering features

crumbled 

above dust

finding

me-and-all

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vi

because reason

is writing this

rather than rhyme 

,

so logically

i cannot love

but

rather decide

,

whether to fall

or fly

,

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EP

how do i resonate 

with a stone

sinking

to the top of the sea

,

the reverse of everything

the perverse of me

,

the lack of freedom

try

ing to be free

,

simply complex

all thats

left of me

,

how do i resonate

with the sea

surrounding me

granting light to me

,

suffocating too bright

this buoyancy 

is this floating or flight

,

or all thats keeping

me

life

alive 

i’ll live

,

to see sunrise

,

but regard this

resonant resonance resonating dissonance

floating to the

ocean

bed

,

just

living

to be alive

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just being

waves of white crashed

into featureless

shores

of the brightest grey

,

lapping into

the eternal night

,

the tide of 

chaotic nothingness

becoming

meaningless perfection

,

as everything

washed away

,

into the sea

,

you

become

,

to be

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rather or something

because its not really poetry

if its just words 

is it

,

just chucked at a page

formated, rearranged

to different

,

structures

stanzas, interrupted

just to say enjambment

,

and narrative flow

does just go

on and on and

on

and 

on

,

to suit these

questionable

needs

,

is it really me

is it just really me

or are 

these words

just trying

to pretend

to

be

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6WS 4

poetry has not been flowing, recently

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that is the way that this wasn’t going to be

my unwritten lament

to tearless eyes

was too cold

to write the letters 

in the clearer skies

,

above us

so we sighed

,

but was too weak

to let feelings

shelter and hide

,

from my truth the crushing fire

the reasoned relentless ire

so here i stay

here i lay

i am neither and the liar

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6WS 3

they mainly end, with the end.

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6WS 1

I write short stories. The end

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6WS 2

i’ll try, i tried. The end