CAN-NOT I was trying to reach beyond my stroke But I don’t think I can, my memory was Shot to bits like torn photos can- Not bring my memory back. No detail comes to mind, stroke is like My birth, the day date and time. These words are my memory In a deep vein thermal image man. I can’t go to another level, be- Cause there isn’t any. I sit here All alone of many, many a day I done this and that without clarity. It’s clear that I can’t find a way through So, I’ll just have to settle for, I haven’t Got a clue?
ICONOCLASTIC Why are people so slushy sentimental? The reigns of god are deep in us, a bit Between our teeth. We won’t ever be Able to move on, he or it will kill us. Die a death to evolve, for that day I can’t wait, free to stand on our own Two feet, wow what a day, free-fall. PLACEBO EFFECT PART1. I find it very hard these days to focus on positivity, Alina Feld said in her study of melancholy, “the self knows its light only by knowing its darkness”. My darkness it seems is projected from within, I live within the state of melancholy but I hope this essay shines a little light in the dark. I am not coming to this essay trying to shove something down your throat. I have searched and searched for the answer, but even in my hours of near-death, I found the same answers as you. I believe I have been given a second chance for a reason but I'm not asking you to believe in something that fundamentally contradicts itself. I believe what I believe, it’s jus
LOU READ ‘Read seeds not twigs’ Ezra Pound Reading W.S. Merwin selected translations,this is my stab in the dark, from the mean streets. Everyone should read Lou Reed over and over and over. I’ll be your mirror, reflect what you are ‘Between thought and expression’, ‘pass thru fire’. Somebody else would have broken both of her arms That’s the difference between wrong and right Shows just how wrong you can be. Lou Reed gave me everything, everything and more Pale blue eyes, that I just don’t know And that’s the long and short of it. There’s nobody but you, inside my thoughts as the rhythmic thoughts subside. Different colour’s made of tears, nobody called In a way you’re the best friend I ever had. The image of the poet is in the breeze Canadian geese are flying over trees A mist is hanging gently on the lake Our house is very beautiful tonight. Wash the razor in the rain I’m waiting for my
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