I stole this from my very good friend, Alan Speegish.I am happy about this....fucl< him.
and when all is said and done
there is no one to say it to, anymore
night comes fast
a legion of one, washes up onto the shore
nothing in dreams does last
they erase when morning comes
the day slow
again the shadow is cast,as the starling hums
drums beat out a rhythm
to thoughts we’ve thought and sights we’ve seen
we make our trial
we know it is a given,the things we’ve bought and the rights we deem
in a quote..” Not youth pertains to me,
Nor delicatesse, I cannot beguile….”
in an image…a bowl ,bread and a book on a table
going down slow
behind; a carnage..a knoll ,dread and a note in a label
what do we buy, what do we owe
what do we steal, what is stolen from us
whose penance is this
when do we die,do we really know…how do we feel,when on loan we lose trust
all is said, all is done….nothing more amiss
the path less chosen
the pacifist
those met on Walden,do not exist …the hapless frozen
in amethyst
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