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Young and Troubled

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Under the moon light I sat and wept
Coldness of the grass sends shivers down my spine
The silence of the town, all the children slept
Others covered in blankets, I'm drenched in wine
The boredom, the pain, the stress leads me to crime
Waiting for tomorrow, another day
Sun rises up over the hill, brightly shine
So young, yet so gone, such a small price to pay
Holidays just started, it's the end of May
Slowly I take a look at my frozen wrist
I was confused, should I stay or go away?
All I ever do is take drugs and get pissed
The sound of voices whisper in my ear
Then I decided the end was near

A Beer

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Come have a beer. It's time to get a drink.
During happy hour it's a cool thing,
but if you drink too many, you might sing.
If you spill your beer, barley is what you'll stink.
When you drink too many, your eyes turn pink.
When your head spins, your ears will really ring.
You will get so high, you'll feel you fly with wings.
You are now drunk, have bad breath, and stink.
Be careful when you drink, you'll lose control.
People get really brave, and men get bold.
Women are turned off, men act like boys.
Alcohol in the air, men chatting their noise.
Be careful when you drink, sobriety is your goal.
Your friend is a bottle . . . more beer is sold.

Two in One

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Her eyes, like fire, implore me to be swift
The moon possesses me with liquid stare
Her voice, in honeyed tones caresses me
And sets my soul alone, apart, adrift
The moonlight falling on her silver hair
Slowly lulls my heart into a trance
In her is everything I want to be
Floating on a breath of shimmering air
If only for a day, an hour, a glance
My soul within me burns, begins to lift
To look from out her eyes and in them see
And spin, now fast, now faster, in a dance
Myself as only she could ever know
A shining form, possessed of golden glow


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Timidness is enough to account for
The wadded unfinished things. Its fearful
To have written, and see the product fall
Unnoticed, unmarketable, adored
Not at all. Not to write: that is the norm.
I improvise verse in the mirror, full
Knowing how bad it sounds: Rinse away all
The broken phrases with the whiskers and scum--

Remember when English and me were in love
So in love, pages flying from cheap pens
And pads and notebooks--Even then I'd prove
Too shy to finish the thing--to begin
Living differently--Living a life reserved
For those with discipline, courage, and nerve.

Fallen Tree Once Taller Than All

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Sitting by a sky-blue lake brings solace
Through swinging trees that sway-dance in the wind,
Healing the pain brought on by malice,
That like the trees, I see, would make me bend.
No Phoenix shall fly from these red ashes--
Its cracked shell bakes in the harshly lit sun.
Looking forward to such future crashes
From the others who now are having fun.
Time will tell whose loveless gust of fury
Sent crashing down the other's topless pride
Grinding it into bits as fine as curry.
You, I so loved, but no longer abide.
So when you look and see the barren sky,
Know that it was you who let the axe fly.

Pull Over Black Man

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Always getting pulled over when I drive,
Unnecessary procedure at hand,
Tasteless words of excuse that sound so bland,
Black youth, its hard for us to stay alive,
My skin makes me have to struggle and strive,
Its hard enough for me to be a man,
No longer picking cotton off your land,
Won't give me the job 'cause my skin's too live.
Unite, become one, so that I'll have strength,
Can't let him hold me down, I must not slip,
Integrity should be humung' in length,
I'll need it so I won't go get my clip,
Let's go, come on, God gave us all a gift,
So don't believe me, this is just a tip.

Heaven's Drops

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Does rain compare to the pain that I feel?
Is it enough to express emotions?
The tears of the sky always help thee heal.
Heaven's drops fall on people's positions.
Why must the coldness of the storm stay true?
Metaphorically it is never warm.
The absence of light is always a clue.
Does the present of gladness ever form.
The surge of these storms will always be near.
The sun will be the hidden happiness.
These storms will always be a complete fear.
Through all the rain there's a sense of clearness.
Always look for the sun to guide the way.
Always get through the rain storm day by day.

I Need Love

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I am going to tell you how I feel
I just want to have a love that is real
I need a love that ignites like a fire
How can I stop this burning desire
All I wanna do is give it a chance
Because everyone needs a true romance
I can see that you are the one for me
If you only give some of it to me
You are the only one I want and need
I will give you all the love that you need
I need a love that burns like a fire
How can I stop this burning desire
Please then show me the way to fill my heart
With all the love to help make my life start


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Tell me oh sir, where hath my lover gone,
To forests with fields and glittery streams,
A far away place where the day is dawn,
Where the sun shines through and I feel its beams.

Tell me oh sir, have you spoke of his name,
Told the great tales of his adventures true,
Have you sung the songs that speak of the same,
Told of his crossing the rivers so blue.

Sir give me the gift I ask of you now,
Please tell me the truth of my lover so,
Share with me here in this humbling bow,
My lover is dead and now he lies low.

His life is over, nothing I can do,
He will be in my heart till this day through.

These Leaves Falling

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These leaves falling on October lawn,
Fossils numberless of the tall trees' wings,
Land dead-muddle in the mushroom rings.
Tree fingers lose their feel, the sap is drawn
Down from the tube-tips. The summer brawn
Is gone or going now. Fall's seasonings
Affect more than the trees. Its colorings
Pervade both flora and the close man-fawn
Who watches now as dawn is wondrous red.
Here he will come to watch when leaves have fled.
Here to this spot when the winds grow blow and brusk,
By tusks of the tall-fall, winter-splinter, husk-on-husk trees
He will stand and spread from the common bed
In awe--one silent sentinel of the russet dusk.

Sonnet 1

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To my dearest love who's so far away,
How I long to look into your blue eyes.
I dream sweet pictures of that coming day,
When surrounded by the trees and the skies.
In your warm arms you hold on to me tight.
The wind blows and the grass whispers a song.
The land around us silent as the night,
Motionless time watching the clock tick long.
Knowing that our destiny makes us one.
We have learned to live a separate life,
But in our hearts our true love will be done.
With boundless energy I'll be your wife.
Knowing true love so deep within our hearts,
Makes time no factor keeping us apart.

Lost Soul

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The love for whom was but only skin deep
A hollow room filled with echoes echoes
But a rat with no promises to keep
Vulching on weak stray souls like a gecko
As the other waiting here every night
Praying till the bright sun has awaken
Yet know no one would come admit wrong nor right
All those bitter sweet hot days a faking
Love, can all it go utterly wrong?
Dry tears who makes, leaping into the dark
The end is near and far for now the song
Dwindles and drowns like dying larks.
Love, you can be a joyous thing that lurks
In a black cloak taking souls far with murk.

The Snail

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Slowly moving, slimy and revolting,
With effort he wriggles his vile form.
A disgusting trail that he is leaving,
Shows the tedious path that he has worn.
Born down by the weight of his fragile case,
His elastic body stretches and weaves,
Sluggishly dragging his pale carapace
Towards the succulent, green lettuce leaves.
His moist, pallid horns sway this way and that,
Looking out for danger - a swooping crow,
A school boy's boot or a marauding cat -
Ready to hide from his dangerous foe
In his only retreat, the shell on his back.
Will he safely get to his nice green snack?

Sonnet for Us

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When I think on thee and everything
That grows within an hour of my heart
I elect your view and to him stubborn
Subordinate my affection clear.

The wiles that surround a man's heart prove
Dear to the vista of the sea and yet
When two spend their time apart grown spent
The fortitude that lust has hampered trust

Derives from this the truest of intent,
Of two groans each to other's quest dismissed
With trials that trying a king would crumble.

My flashing might yet has this fledgling thought,
That as you are broken free resort with
This our dearest council, our true report.

Vietnam's Windows of Chance

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Our decimated platoon awaits withdrawal;
Murky dampness and fetid stench prevail.
Treacherous deceptions meander nearby,
Empowered with purpose to obliterate all.
Vitreous eyes in severed torsos gape empty,
Shaded to veiled reality of sinister scenes.
Attentive dusk, badgers the dawdling night
To unfurl her custodial garbs of disguise.

Irked choppers burrow beneath adversity,
Blending assuredly into our dismal sphere.
The living, dead, and tattered body parts
Are briskly shuttled aloft a tense night.
Demented delusions infiltrate spent minds,
Pondering tomorrow's windows of chance.

Her, Whom I Admire

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How much I long to be with one so chaste!
The sight of her lets joy fulfill my heart.
So smart she is, and full of taste.
To look at her will make my troubles part.

Her body is so full of shape and grace;
Her face provides a flawless work of art-
Her posture calms me as a peaceful place,
As if some master painter did impart.

To cheerfully hold her in the dim twilight,
Into her brown eyes gazing, calm her mien,
Makes up for the dullness of the night.
Her effect so extremely feminine!

So thus for now I can only day-dream,
For hope my ecstasy will reign supreme.


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Heartache is something you do not want to find
Heartache can take you and all of your life a way
Heartache can make you go crazy, lose your mind
Heartache can stay with you till you're dying day

Heartache can make you cold inside
Heartache can take the good memories away
Heartache can make you feel you are being taken away with the tide
Heartache will never ever let you be gay

Heartache can numb your soul
Heartache will make you break down and want to cry
With heartache you feel like you are in a hole
Why is it that I always have heartache? Why?

To lose heartache you just have to let go
It is hard, you don't have to tell me, I know


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Gift of language so calm and serene,
And sense the whisper of endless time,
Witness the soft blow over fields of green,
Waves of silt, vibration as bells chime,
When I hear such a forsaken tone,
I see a heaven that isn't girded in reliance,
Then why of beauty do I question in stone?
That salutation wastes nothing and is in defiance?
Then of thy sound must I ask a question or two,
Since sweetness and kindness is ever told,
For it's an instant of dimension we do,
And witness aside, as we grow old,
And stands to live the time, hold fast,
Cherish the significance before it becomes the past.

Urban Country

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At the end of our street the tarmac ends,
Replaced by grass, moss and stones in-between,
The four by four potholes that gently wend,
Into the distance in mind and in dream,
The sky is red as near industry burns,
And silhouettes the trees against the clouds,
Nightly silence at night never returns,
As motorway and turbines cry aloud,
I have forgotten how dark dark can be,
When dusk falls to a flickering twilight,
And deafness means that I can listen free,
To the owls and snapped twig from panic flight,
In grass and trees where birds on ants do feed,
This urban life has country as its seed.

Light of the World

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The songs were raucous and the music loud;
Death danced with death as lust devoured love;
The smoke hung heavy like a dead man's shroud
And hate filled passions ruled the rooms above.
With the dawn light came and the night folk fled;
All sick in soul, lust blushing, hiding fear
The blind, the deaf and crippled walking dead
Sought sheltering darkness as your light came near.
But one, awash with wine and stained by smoke,
Lingered. You smiled and he was touched by grace.
Past pleasures turned to dust, his cold heart broke
And he wept penance in that holy place.
Where e'er you pass the watchful always find
That you leave one new weeping friend behind.


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On Cedar Key the homes are topped with turrets
like the flourish of a maraschino cherry.
In one, two stained-glass birds are in a hurry
to break the window, to escape, two egrets
stuck in a town of fishermen and artists
who live off shrimp and sponges or painting very
bad pictures of them. A haze makes things blurry;
a tree that from a distance seems indefinite--
a juniper? a fir?--becomes, instead,
the pole that holds the sponges' drying weight.
At pier's end, on a bench under the sun,
a fish is dying: just a tail, a head,
and an imaginary undulation,
its body missing, cut away for bait.

Boys' Stuff

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Composed In A Computer Room

Sandy, why do you surf so near to me
Today? - to me, the boy poet of boys
Like you, this summer's day that leaves no choice
But than to love and hope that you'll agree.

You're hammering away at each and ev'ry key
Meanwhile, as if there wasn't inner voice
Right next to you in praise of all the joys
That go with being cute and devotee.

Sweet Jesus... This is verily the stuff
Of life - this lad and me in love with him.
Please let us finish here and then be gone.

I promise you. I've suffered long enough.
A coupl' of lawns we'll mow and trim
The good old hedges of Miss Henderson.

If You Were Queen

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If you were queen, Ięd offer you the world,
But you are not -
                     Your crown's fashioned with lies
And your brow is fixed in spite and lips curled
Ready to spit-
                     Hate cataracts your eyes.

Feel free to wander round all the wretch you've wrought,
And bear no witness, see no suffering
In discontent you brought -
                     "Oh, did you not?"
For your ears be pleased - truths need buffering!

Plead not, tongue, when eyes renewed -
                     for I fear:
That come such time might have I -
                     two deaf ears
And when truth impales and thin blood you spill
Remember this - that I may tell you still:

"You are ice. You blackened. Shadowed in hate.
My light hurts your eyes. My truths are your fate."

All That Is Past Is Buried Deep

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All that is past, is buried deep
beneath the surface of the earth,
yet not the weary widows weep
in want of one more winters worth.
What fools exhume the rule of now,
within grave tribulations tear,
too soon for presence to allow
the room for you, and whom to care?
Whom to care for here and now
and less about the absentees,
these, the people's, have the how,
and as such plenty pleasantries.
Plenty pleasantries or few,
what's said and done one can't undo!

The Lord

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The sweet gentle night is something to see
The cold darkness is like a new gray moon
We worship the jealous season as we sleep
Waiting for the day to come very soon.

Lovely beauty in rest is a pure heart
God is a mighty being that is great
Worship with prayer to the Lord is smart
There is only one way and it is straight.

Being a Catholic each day is new
We try to be good, avoid mortal sin
The lessons of the bible we learn too
He died on the cross with two other men.

We must love the lord, he is my savior
Always try to do your best behavior.


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Detached, you stand in sheer serenity.
And unlike other creatures of your sex,
your mind is free from insecurity;
a confidence your loveliness protects.
The awkward pace impatiently in place,
their desperate eyes competing for the men
who take their hands, and lead them to a space
where they are led like pigs inside a pen.
Yet you, stood stunning in your splendid dress,
stood out amidst the agitated crowd.
To ask an angel for a dance? A stress
I somehow overcame; a joy allowed.
My feelings of unworthiness exposed -
FOR YOU - so young, so perfectly composed.


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Here he is, the man you might have been,
escaping from his cell within your mind,
alive, but helpless to escape your skin
to take the world he'd always hoped to find.

A mercy? Life was cruel, love was unkind.
You didn't kill this lovely, ailing child
but wrapped him up in swaddling, confined,
where life is safe, where love is not defiled.

He lives, near-martyred to the sin that smiled,
and beckoned you, for he was in the way
of luscious evil you would not revile,
that mesmerized your night, beguiled your day

I find this prisoner within your poems,
I scent the inner garden where he roams.

The Crow's Route

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Souless, the straight lined long mile of highway
to futures and paycheques, no brakes involved,
racing past love to jobs, not the sun's rays,
paying for answers, refusing to solve.

As the crow flies is the quickest demise
like the railroad defacing a nation;
straight loveless lines lead only to lies,
bird shit splatters the tracks and the station.

Strong blusters blow the black bird from it path,
diesel engines collide, lose the rail,
on vehicles potholes pound out their wrath,
steel belted radials flattened by nails.

The future swirls and swerves, tumbles and rolls,
the crow's route's pink slips prove rights to its souls.

The Flamboyan Tree

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When to that sombre forest first they came
You seemed a bonfire dancing in the dark,
A blaze of pigments on a canvas stark,
Whose ardent splendour drove the rest to shame.
Then from that country like a lion made tame
They brought you captive with your precious spark,
Rekindling soon in every tropic park
And avenue your fabled forest flame.
So when you cast your crown, my Flamboyan,
Of scarlet, crimson and all moods of red,
Do you, a tree, have yearnings like a man
And are those tears of sadness that you shed,
From longing for the land where life began,
The forest where your magic fire was bred?

To Those Who Love

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No, you can never walk away from love
No matter how much price you will to pay
You cannot escape the call from above
For your heart is stuck and would want to stay
Run far away but you can never hide
Light of the stars, conceal you in the skies
Wear another mask, in yourself you lied
Fool the world but love still show in your eyes
Go on, but do you think you will still live?
Away from the one you love the most
Just because in love, you do not believe
You are like a frightened child, scared of ghost
But ask yourself, how long will pretend
How long will you fear? 'til when will this end?

Sonnet 9 (16/02/01)

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So oft the ghost is painted with such dread,
And haunting as the fearful night's horror.
Yet thy fair face dost haunt me in my bed,
still in my heart I feel but sweet amour.
I could no more escape my mind's-eye view,
than phantom pursuers that through walls do chase.
But my blessed thoughts are only filled with you,
who even death thy form could not debase.
For in my head you live and gently smile,
as though you were as real as this my hand.
Throughout the day you're with me all the while,
Not stolen by the curséd glasses sand.
But is this love just in this haunted mind?
Will I by reaching out but spirits find?


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