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Plague Doctor

Plague Doctor

 

One thing this plague has taught us

Is that close proximity can be lethal

You could be a carrier of ideas

Asymptomatic in their spread

Just your unthoughtful actions

Triggering others to violence

 

You could infringe on the personal space

Of other people’s beliefs

Carelessly trampling over them

By thinking only of your own gratification

Endang...

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Some Words

Some Words

 

I had been her son all my life

                But not all of hers

When she started calling me

                By her brother’s name

                Not my dad’s

                Her bother’s

 

Dead for these past 10 years

 

A stroke will do that to you

                Make you forget what you were saying

                Struggling to find the rig...

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Immortality Methodology

Immortality Methodology

 

Always remember -

endings are new beginnings.

Here’s to the future,

where an ending waits for me

while my words live forever.

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NaPoWriMo 2019day 30minimalist poemtankaimmortalitywordsepitaphlegacy

In The Beginning

~~In The Beginning

leaving marks
that’s all we’re doing
leaving marks

daubed on cave walls
scratched on parchment
prodded into submission
on a plastic keyboard

blood ink
drying
becoming permanent

or
crossed through
with a graphite swipe
erased by rubber
white paint
lost

ideas and musings
bold statements
of intent
waxing lyrical
outpourings
of joy
of hate
of love
...

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Graffiti

Graffiti

 

the brooding

malcontent

with paper cut

heart

stares at a wall

of graffiti

and thinks

I could do that

so he picks up

a spray can

unleashes

his feelings

in dribbling

white letters

fifteen feet high

his blood

becomes molten

his rage is

a torrent

of years

without voice

a scream

to be heard

...

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stroke

stroke

 

no words

blood ricocheting

in all directions

going places

where blood should

smoothly flow

not rush headlong

 

apologies

made by sign

for dragging me

seventy miles

to see

your broken body

no words

 

thinking

is this it?

is this all there is?

will I live

the rest of my life

motherless?

no wor...

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strokespeech lossmotherdeathlovewordsno words

The Collector (Roget's Soliloquy)

The Collector (Roget’s Soliloquy)

 

In my book……..

 

Words – so simple in their sound

they fall like snowflakes on a lake

and interlock their unique form

until the water gives way to their power,

becoming something bigger,

something cold and hard and beautiful.

Or a flame, just a spark at first

until the kindling catches and the embers

jump from t...

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