Tuesday, January 1, 2013

Tuesday Night Post # 2-9


Yes it is a New Year.  Count only what needs to be recorded, what needs to be exchanged.  Change comes not with numbers, but with action.  The page is turned by the hand not by the numbers on the page.

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A Perished Rose
A Salty Brick

On my chest
smelled so sweet
Looking down
at a frown
When it was ripped
from my chest
Left to me
Minus 3
Severed limbs
I remained
to agree
I accept
this side of me
No more chance
to take up arms
I chose the weapon
Never felt
the need to see
the role that
was placed on me
Rendered small
with a task
to sweep around
the chimney
Several times
I even spoke
of the feeling
so tenderly
Shame I found
starved the hounds
Made me feel
so heavenly
Body red
Never dead
Raising clouds
from the dirt
Coughing loud
Cutting ties
Finding source
in dirty knees
Found a way
to be free
in my chore
left to me
With every movement
of my hand
always came
like a lance
Carving up
Ivory Bark
 Made of stone
never dark
On my chest
there’s a stem
Pull it hard
Lets begin

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