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I’m sorry I’ve been a ghost

One can only hope

That cycles,

Cycles such as these,

Will not remain unbroken forever.

One will long

For the day,

The day where the cycle splits, smoldering pieces taking the cold night

And we shall all look on

Realizing

Change was always

A distinct possibility.

Now and Then

Beware
The sound of smoke and mirrors
And the ringing of bells.
Lost in the bushes,
Hiding from the parade
Of what is already known.
Hard to look at twice.
Or once.
Or never.

We know what it means to be changed.
We have been there before,
At the dawn of so much sunshine.
Squinting
Considering possibilities.
Pretending that this was not a disappoint.
Never.
Not this.

And open eyes
To the words
Said in any way except
From left to right.

All of this is fixable.

This one

Where the challenge lies
Is somewhere between apathy
And real effort.

12-12-14

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12-9-14

But seriously…

Hope was made for large birds of prey.

From where they sit

And watch

Problems are not in eye shot.

And the only thing they are focusing on:
Is the next meal.

Such focus.
When one is
Without distractions

Uno

That
This
There

No

Yes

Asleep at the wheel.

Attached on a string to the sound of a resolved chord.

I am here now
And I will be here
And that is a rock.

A rock and me.
In Symmetry

I was better with words before I knew I was clever.

And when I became clever
Every single bet was off.
Without any chips
On the play.

Regardless,

I am
One
For consistency,
Whatever that’s worth.

Austerity

Put it on wax
With mumbles and the sounds
Of Yule logs cracking.
A commitment to honesty.
Nostalgia.

Claiming what was once common.
With words.
And noises.

And feelings,
Sometimes and never
All at once and the same thing.

And then,
Witness what follows.

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