Over the shoulder into dawn - a bruised and battered sky. Past the fallen violet honey or so goes the cry. Through cedar boughs; over ice - a freshly minted leave. A turned corner, the smokehouse finds reprieve. A cliche for all ages, "what's done is done," and again never comes. A brow's glistening white beads.
Tag: scribblesnbits
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Solstice
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Echo Chamber
Low roads pierce heavy clouds,
down the barrel - face -
selling thoughts a penny.
Parlor tricks without gloat
heads nod - embrace -
betting men a plenty.
Facing facts wrinkles skin;
firmly falls grace,
failing sharper than any.
Meaning life falls in love,
pays slim straights -
the house tax a century. -
A Wandering: The Nuance of Idle Thought
From a person imprisoned or sheltered within their mind arise pathologies not explored by those who take benevolent residence instead.
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Memorandum of Overture
My advice, fallen deaf on the ears made by adjoining symphony - or cacophony - indifference. Splice. Sew broken chord through and thorough. Fodder for the cannon; bows at the ready. My advice? Hold your head high, an octave above the rest. And fade.
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S.D.B.Q!
Fixing instruments of death. A wrench turning man. the author of apocalypse - swift rivers’ final breath. A demon, fears of every depth. Purged of amnesty. Hedge rows trimmed to hypocrisy. A lesson, some say, learned - apple rotting on the desk. A monster lamenting only failure.
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Bar Setting
Message from the awful truths nothing stronger than full proof. Bits and pieces of presumption. Little takeaways for view - pleasure emptier than the room. Rise to the occasion or rise to nothing. Gracious notes from old to new: scrambled eggs and beatnik floof. Flowers on collars and shelves of buttons. Let the setting scene fade to view.
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Low Hanging Fruit
Far, far away. Sittin’ where the apple seeds grow all day. Whistle up a smile and the branches sway. Dump out the bath and keep the baby face. Nothing left of leaving - only born yesterday.