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felt pleasure saying

“I have forgotten more than you have read yet”

The import of forgetting,

must be real full of myself

belittling, arrhythmic self worth assessing

In Confidence

It only happens when my eyes are closed
my hands
they slither in following
sinewy muscles inwards
as if the soft skin covering didn't exist
alternatingly taut and loosening
but silent
I feel them to reassure myself
many times over
wander on
grope my organs
self inflicting
critical, occasionally correcting
marrow texture, nascent,
between two finger tips
bone smooth
lingering on the other hands tips
rib cage intricate
an audible organ
here I caress
and massage
there is pleasure
almost a helping hand
the beat
more, there is more
a flow

Fish in a pond

I have always called him the ghost and his companion the beast

didn’t name them just who they were

gray, liquidy silence,

effervescent silhouette in silvery movement

we are not intimate, not even aware

but I sight him sometimes and he must me.

Each sighting is a reassurance,

his size keeps growing but

nothing like the beast, proportional but still never


Defacto provider since titular pond digger,

didn’t do much, rain fills it in,

aquatic seeds bungled right in,

floating roots, visible, fodder

I see him feed, furtive

State of being

Unconscious, instinctive and a practiced movement

my hand on her belly

Ensconced, cocooned, in a glove

seems each time it is in it

not on it

homed, nestled,


Doing the splits

Events in the south,

across the seas and even where I was born.

Rhetoric everywhere

It's a split

humanity every so often repetitively prides in it

“isms”, national pride, color pride, whatever it's a periodic splinter.

Whenever there is abundance

societal tendency indulges in higher virtue,

kinder thought.

Then it splits, the kindred as in “kind” lack testosterone

so starts public discourse.

Some job losses, redistribution of wealth

realigns all good intent inwards.

It only heals when suffering is collective

Shelter sans shade

Wont' let today be a yesterday

first born to the land/nation
how could the land lay waste the
claim to me?

The squalor is hidden too often
the verbose of squalor was taught strange, once created do not clear
lay bare the burrow
just dig another.

Food on the table simply pushed aside, expect a new plate
which may be gleamed or not clear the table, nasty microbes
deserve a treat.

Taken and schooled in shame foreign to
my creed
ingrained skin deep, delved and
shoveled almost into the genes
for some decades past
now hard to to live down the prepubescent

Flippant thoughts

Think seriously on
life eliminating
the fourth dimension, time,
or transcending the known three
of corporeal depth.

Some simplistic conjectures, tunnel viewed
and assimilated, listed below:-

What was before is true.
what will be after is true.
Something is gotta be happening
now to letter down or mandate the truth.
That what is life dispels slick
matter potentate, energizes,
simply rejuvenates.

Everyday negation of
each adaptive perspective
compels subscription to
novel foreign testaments.

Steer a course by chance
establish a norm

Stumbled and stumped

caustic salivating mouth
a numbed toungue attempts words
aptly all that occurs is gurgling

Awakened each morning
Humanity greets each little
Lump appended to it thus

Understated, overstated
Covertly stated, overtly stated
Never clearly stated

Go figure
Which is the automaton;
The caustic gland that will
Subvert, demand and rule?
Or the whole mimicking cohesion
Stumbled and stumped
Spin doctor, spin.

Existential penile sentiment

The quintessential penetrative organ
turns coat.

knock, knock,
enter, mingle and withdraw.
An after reflex rouses one
from a cognitive slumber
upon a cheek stumbling on
dribble and drool,
deep rooted grout.

The living body fluids
that a while ago powered
all acts and in exchange sought
now trigger a subconscious

a pleasure acquiring a new gene pool.

Why!? linger on discards
when the prize is attained.
like wise with knowledge and wealth.
Learn the lesson, posses the mane
kick the guru and parenting hand
to their separate doomsday.

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