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Subject: Poems: 200714 - July 20th, 2014
From: Robert Morpheal <morpheal@yahoo.com>
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030714A
------------
Everything is half baked.
They left you out
in the cold too soon.
Long before the icing
could go on any cake.
---------------------------
030714B
-----------
Between the autodialer
and your absence,
is the reason
why everything is as it is.
-------------------------------
030714C
------------
Everyone does it,
but it never does any good.
They are always encouraged
to what is never encouraging.
---------------------------------
200714A
------------
It isn't ever my place
and it isn't ever my time,
so I find that in all my looking
I never find you
either here or there.
-----------------------
200714B
-----------
I have learned to avoid
going out at night,
knowing it would end up
in chasing after shadows,
looking for whatever it is
that I cannot really find
somewhere caught in between
midnight and morning.
Instead I cage my restlessness,
keeping it locked up
as a kind of paper tiger,
that peers through the window
looking up at the stars,
after pacing the floor,
trying to find something there
that one can really wish upon.
You could have changed all that
along with so very much else,
but that would have been love,
and no one believes in that anymore.
The style has changed,
and they exact a toll
that is higher than I can pay,
to go as far as half the distance.
Killing time drowning sorrows,
the way it is with all that is shown
that it is so utterly powerless,
left to fallen in its field,
a scarecrow without mourners,
headpiece full of straws,
grasped at for something more
than everything coming up short.
Pain becomes normal and expected,
while pleasure the distant exception,
made increasingly uncertain,
as to anything it might be about.
It was turned into a kind of mystery,
without any means to its solution,
having lost its questions and answers,
in a flood of meaningless dialogues.
Left out, to passing away the time,
having gotten only far enough
to starting anything all over again,
the way children always do it,
building it all up and breaking it down,
often during the very same day.
Everyone came and went,
leaving nothing of greater value.
I am longing to find you,
but I have no idea as to your name,
and I don't know where to go,
among all the emptiness of places,
where I never found you before.
There seems no one to introduce us,
and we might pass as strangers,
leaving merely a trace of expression.
---------------------------------------------
200714C
------------
Between the victory and the vanquished
there is that line drawn in blood.
Somewhere between the flesh and the spirit.
that line is eventually always crossed.
----------------------------------------------
200714D
------------
A drowning soul
waiting for a passing vessel,
that might hesitate to pull it out,
is perhaps as vain a hope
as wishing on the fickle heavens
that nothing more might fall.
-----------------------------------
200714E
-----------
They say that they rescued me,
but it was only for the purpose of my defeat.
I am not even good enough to market
on the black market of imperfections.
If only I could become imperfect enough
to command something of a higher price.
Perfection having become impossible,
imperfection is the only commodity left.
-----------------------------------------------
200714F
-----------
There is some truth to the fact
that if one is not being honored
one might as well be laughed at
as that tends to wash it all away,
and sometimes wash it down.
------------------------------------
200714G
------------
I thought we would go somewhere,
but you would never want to be seen with me.
It would surely ruin something,
even if you have no idea what that really was.
--------------------------------------------------
200714H
------------
Everything is broken
that I tried to put together.
Everyone I thought was coming,
is already gone.
--------------------
2000714I
------------
The shadow of God
is the world.
There is something
that remembers everything
and there is no difference
between a thought,
a word, a hand
stretched out
to what it can never touch,
or that it holds tightly
and can never let go.
--------------------------
200714J
-----------
The bleating of a car alarm,
slicing the night open,
sounds like the rhythm of a heart
forced to keep beating.
-----------------------------
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