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"Everything's still the same with the Sea and its tides"

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Everything's still the same with the Sea and its tides,
They rise and fall and jump; go high and low
Pray, where's the Sun? in my mind maybe he hides,
Whispered to me, he, to the tides never liked to bow.
So why pretend everything is still the same
When the scenario is so clearly half-changed
And who's pretending?...he who's not in the game
Whilst I hesitate to prosecute he who had it arranged,
To admit nothing's the same when you're not around
I lose nothing, not even your rare presence;
When you're here the tide knows no bound,
I dream, to even a willingly bowing Sun she shuns.
You may be quite far so as not to hear me cough
But I remember you. Is that enough?

To Make the Gods Laugh

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I walk alone today not by intent
Our paths have led us on to diverse turns
The grimness of this day will not relent
The bridges that we crossed have all been burned
Though here I know we do not think the same
I've learned to listen to my inner voice
That much of what we do is preordained
And feel we really have so little choice
Nor can we calculate who might be right
To steer one's own determined course would seem
A challenge far more worthy of the fight
If one could grasp its ever-changing scheme.
Wisdom has dissuaded me from this plan,
It's said the gods laugh at the plans of man.

The Sonnet Of Ignorance & Experience

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She compares to the fruit of the pear tree
Fair and fragile form, sheathed by skin so fine.
I reach but it cometh not close to me
With time my mind improves the fruit like wine
What sweet nature must that curtain protect?
It must be so pure to taste, to touch lips.
Be painted just in my idiolect!
Perfection has me under her cantrip
But it falls from clouds to earth without grace
Unmasked and lame I gnaw at the ripe corpse
Such a rotten core a mendacious face
Doth deceive and hide such crawling mouldwarps
Not only contempt doth acquaintance breed
But a gash from which fine presumptions bleed.

He sees a counsellor

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You say your wife is seeing someone else
You don't know when or where or even who
Now don't you think it's time to talk to her
to see if there is something you can do

"communicate" before it goes too far?
To tell her how upset you're feeling now
and angry too - I can see that from here -
and ask her if she wants to, well, somehow

understand your hurt "to empathise"
involve herself in your emotional space?
These feelings that you have, well, they are real
and having feelings - that is no disgrace.

Just talk to her. Just call her by her name.
Say "Desdemona - we can work things out"

Hurricane Lamp

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Oh, the glass, which shields the candle's light,
laying vision to wand'ring soldier's night.
Amidst a storm, who's wind infiltrates will,
          (this i have seen) a guiding star remains still.
No darkness deeper than black shadow cast
by flame. A glimmer of jealousy past?

In pieces, falling free from stone released
in spite. Red mystery to watching eye
of Orion, Vig'lant through midnight sky.
Alas a soul - weak. Wind so unfair, now, ceased.

Dist now covering. Silence ever dark.
Through season's death, life's impetus shall be
still remains, a soul set free - whose shelter,
once glass, now soil. Through darkness shines new spark.

The Time Has Come

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The years have gone by, I look to the past
I see the different times I have spent.
It is time to move on from here at last,
But I won't forget all that it has meant
My glorious journey has not ended;
I look forward to embrace each new day.
The relationships that healed and mended;
I try to think of all that I should say.
I picture and dream of how things will be,
And yet I worship now and start to miss
The experience and choice to be free.
I pass this advice and sealed with a kiss:
You cannot wait, your time will be perished,
For it is now, time needs to be cherished.

When Comes the Day

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When comes the day that I might see through eyes
That grasp this world of red and green and blue?
And ears through which no music can despise
The soul. To feel a melody that's true.
To understand the hope that comes with day
A breath of fire upon a sleeping shame.
And but a voice to turn my head your way
To feel pure joy when you call out my name.
Each step in faith, a trust no other knows.
Born so, to be secure in what I've got.
My Creator- so real, so close, it shows
My eyes, my ears, a peace others know not.
For there's a comfort of which I've grown fond
To smell, to feel, to know a world beyond.

The Man of My Dreams

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When the Moon is full and the stars are bright
I slip into a somber sleep. Dreaming
of the flawless man I can't find in light.
He hides in shadows from the love beaming.

Perfect partners I do find in the night
roaming my mind, teasing me of what I
am unable to have. Deceived by sight
and controlled by emotions, I do cry.

Staring at clouds and wishing upon stars
for the one who can love and not deny
his true feelings that trap me behind bars.
Pondering the thought of love I sigh.

For as long as I search for love it seems
I can never find The Man of My Dreams.

My Sweetest Sin

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Condemned to linger lost in sorrow's grasp,
A bleeding soul without some kinder grace.
Once constant heart, its cadence sprung apace,
Now writhes in passion's hale and vicious clasp.
Against my virtue wanton sins do rasp,
Dispatch my fate to SatanÁs cold embrace
Where lies my own eternal resting place
As my last longing breath I faintly gasp.
Requital for this harm I cannot pay,
Nor disavow the sweet and sharp distress,
For I am not some base, remorseless liar.
The trial I bear I'll never wish away
Forever will it live within my breast
As token of my unfulfilled desire.

Not Roses nor Kisses

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If only love were but a gentle kiss,
A lovely rose that smelled of morning dew,
The world would feel an easy sense of bliss,
And lose the only feeling that is true.
If love was something that the hand could touch,
Something the world could tie up with a bow,
This thing, I know, I would with hands soon clutch,
But this thing can't breathe in the world I know.

This love of which I speak cannot be real,
Nor can it have the pow'r to fill a soul,
But pure love can, with faith, make one's heart feel
The life which other loves can't in hand hold.
This love I speak of now is not a fraud.
This love I speak of now is simply; God.

A Midnight Muse

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How silently shadows await their turn,
While my soul dwells in diversions so dear.
Unaware that the angst which inches near
Will carve my being; a sacrifice learned.
Perhaps my truth I may meet and not spurn;
And gracefully brave the dusk without fear,
In trust that salvation houses next year.
Wading in this dim unseen sea, I yearn.
How else can one hear the blithe of life's sigh,
Than humbling the spirit in somber molds?
To gather self-knowledge where demons lie;
Arresting sweet summits soon to behold.
Assure it then that my spirit will dare
Seek out the dark heroes streaming the air.

Morning Commute

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I sit and listen to the rain come down.
My windshield wipers make the water run
With hyper, high-pitched squeaks and thumping sounds
As all the cars inch forward one by one.

I sit and listen to the rain come down
And cannot help the fear that I hear more,
As if the sky rained something more profound
Than water in the pregnant drops it poured.

I sit and listen to the rain come down
And rolling ever closer to the light,
The flashing light reflecting on the ground,
And rolling ever closer to the sight,

I see the metal of a mangled grille
And blood that poured and made the rush stand still.

"Emotional breath; silent fade; sun dies"

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Emotional breath; silent fade; sun dies;
Great divide glance'd; underneath blueing crest;
Nature's inching scene; noticed myne still eyes;
Sinking view with pine's gentle shade my rest.
Loved hath I; with perfum'd air leaving scent;
Ecstatic presence to longing tearful grieves;
But none as like doth stay; for it hath went;
As all flowers be; in fall's setting leaves.
But in pine's grace new love hath been reveal'd;
As moths to a flame; devours all but thee;
With these words this light shines forever; sealed;
Mirrors gaze on one love; one truth in me.
All questions be to one thing eternal;
Love within to words within this journal.

Elf Slave Labor

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The hyperactive elf works like crazy,
Not finding the right gifts for girls and boys.
Hoping not to be considered lazy,
He hurriedly scrambles together toys.

But this elf is not too intelligent,
For all his presents were built very wack.
But unfortunately he had no hint,
That Santa would be all over his back.

So Santa hung the elf up by his ears,
To teach him a valuable lesson.
To never ruin all Christmas cheer,
And with Old Nick you sould not be messin'

Even though some may consider him cruel,
Old Saint Nicholas must enforce his rule.


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