Poems: 130921 - September 13th, 2021

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Robert Morpheal

Sep 13, 2021, 4:27:58 PM9/13/21

Making a difference
something different
making something
to take your mind off
and out the trash.

Not out of the trash
but out the trash
always the same
as the others do
recycling each other.

So many ways
to getting used up
and you do feel used
in the ugliest ways
in between the slack.

Chop chop chop
the same old block
heading out
and its gone on a roll
chip off a block.

Not the same
as the sad old block
once around gone
back again to chip
at something.

Whittled away
the passing hours
after a close shave
thousand cuts
of being cut away.

Crowds of long knives
looking for their beast
grabbing the horn
slicing at roots
undercutting meanings.

Another new rendering
dicing spirit
discarding flesh
cooking something up
as common fare.

Clean off your plate
leaving nothing
left chance
gone spoiled
and turned bitter.

It is on the menu
prix fixe [pree fiks]
specials of the day
only thing left
anyone can order.

You have to love it
or it leaves you
wanting everything
that was taken off
the common markets.

Nothing is solid
everything flows
melting your Hamlet
and dissolving Ophelia
where the curtain falls.

You've gone dark
after breaking everything
that forms your record
smallest audience
on the longest run.

Such a bloody shame
they never give medals
for anything like that
but best served cold
and without warmth.



Wasn't reaching
for the sky
and didn't want
anyone's crown.

Just wanted
a little of me
and a little of you
being special.

Abdicates nothing
and fall is angel wings
spread all the way
across every field.

Didn't want to see
past little things
that sparkled
bird's eye view.

Tired of everyone
who makes love
shallow and complicated
all at the same time.

Never wanted
to tangle up
in any cum and go
sporty styles.

Everyone always
tied in something
takes them
its prisoners.

A mystery
why so tough
stretches of time
cashing us in.

Can't we be free
just a little while
as if we are
Hollywood's dreams.

Not much left
as far as it goes
but might be
a little something.

Never enough
to get over it
gets dropped
same as the rain.

What is missing
from the scenery
marks our trails
as runaways.

Can't go back
and I am afraid
of being
far too forward.

Too easy now
to frighten away
butterflies and other
delicate things.



More of that same
cut off on a line
scores far edge of all
ends at being torn
down borders of ever
more lonely.

Pretty shadows
scant evidence
of other worlds
too far away
to ever belong
in anything really.

There are those
who never like
whatever you were
or whatever it is
you became
that you become.

Judging the book
by its cover cause
of what was in it
all taken from it
by the censors
not liking one word.

Been written out
of words and time
but they still scribble
rude comments
on the blanked pages
of discontent.

You were in mind
as something
of a lovely future
but it was scrubbed
into a space
nothing fills.

Things to do
sometimes get done
but always
doing something
seems everything
makes for lonelier.

What next
from another list
of no one wants
trying to score
something luckier
than a bad ending.



I seem to have saved
but it was no more
than all the tears
that I had delayed
and put off
to being cried later.

They say peace
is the illusion
cleaved to
by simple minds
given another fix
that lasts them
for a little while.

No winnings
at the rat races
just another flea
in the flea circus
tried to learn
exchanging tricks
for meals.

It doesn't go well
and it never did
when going that way
takes more out
than it puts in
making it a total
loss of balance.

Teeter totter
on the rock on
brink of nothing
days seem
happened before
same scream
that no one hears.

Just another fool
plays the fool's game
of difference
left standing outside
a sell out crowd
that got in
on something.



English got
is German Gott
got to have
some sort of God
Gott you
so you can get
some got it
being begot
and begotten
in a Word game.

Birth and death
in a Word game
about what came
and what went
spaced out between
the get
and the got modes
for getting it
gone out of sight
and out of mind.

It's gone
what you got
but that's it
as to the gutter
Götter talk
Gott and Göttin
so you got in
now a big Gott
gone Götter
did you ?

The way it goes
Word game
and you got some
when you got her
at the get go
but what you got
will be gone
and for Gott
in for getting
something else.

The Word game
sounds alright
to some on a side
of all the getting
made easy
easiest forget
kept to give at
up some got
for saken same
and got more.



Wish it were
something easier
as to random pull
suicide missions
die to something
even if you don't
come out through
in a polished box.

Polished off
coats of wacks
waxing Moon
teases laugh at
haven't learned
the never want rag
might pass over
tawdry romances.

Call it angel
dread and then
the worst
is tell you
vulture wings
squeezed tight
around your never
really feel freed.

Haven't learned
every new kid
knows more
want some
shoddy true between
romance covers
our sordid lives
craving pillow talks.

Whisper living
black out
the deep gutter
shifting pattern
break ups
rapacious conduct
of shock troops.

Wish we knew
it all early know
how find and seek
show to tell
the right ones
gone to rim shot
hoop skirts all
in jingle jive.

Few hunger
the exception
mostly inclusive
everyone else
always had it
all same
whatever thing
was about it.

Should read
forbidden texts
between party
lines and other
hard divides
sent as warnings
down insect holes
on thin antennas.



The barriers
end up overwhelming
in the manner of protests
and police lines
that no one can cross.

The revolution
cancelled repeatedly
during previous iterations
of wayward moments
by other generations.

Shots fired
into random displays
crowds mutter
death threats
at planning departments.

It is now uncertain
what moved forward
and what fell behind
along the shuffle board
trail of who scored.

Someone had
everything we wanted
including sour grapes
squeezed as balls
under virgin feet.

Little squirts
that go as far
as most things ever do
sharing the common
categorical boredom.

There are all of those
now feeling compelled
to stare at their screens
strictly following
the sportsmanship.

Appears quite certain
we can never meet
up to anything more
than the bland arts
of insipid ideologies.

Making something up
that avoids bumping
against anything
getting in the way
of everything else.

Wave critical flags
at the bull pens
past the ruins
of China shops
and gored doorways.

A central committee
labelled us dangerous
and that is enough
to tear anything apart
before it is together.

Everything withdraws
in hasty retreats
from the imperfect
and casual statements
about non compliance.

Nothing any more
the way it was
in the jazzy when
something could
be purely magical.

We don't live
in any possible worlds
down the ways
it used to be
but grieving nostalgia.

Someone arranged
to make us worthless
raising the prices
on everything else
to cannot afford.

Nowhere to go
and all the past
might have been
long closed down
long before us.


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