Tuesday, July 19, 2011


Mountain waits
for the sea.

The sea waits
for history.

but nothing,
is free.

It's all a mystery,
as the sea
swallows history,

and pays the debt
for society.

history begs; cry for me.

I love those poems
poems requiring us
to hold our nose
while the wind
whips around
that certain smell
of discontentment

we all know
those type of poems
disbelieving poems
poems with an attitude
far removed
from anything
we poets
could ever imagine

poems reaching so deep
into our psyche
revealing a side to ourselves
we, ourselves,
will never be able to fathom

release thy poems from bondage!

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