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Tuesday, June 28, 2011

FOLK LORE

The way I see it

I sit cross leged and blind folded with my palms outstretched forward

up from the ground slowly dust twirls,forms and morphs...encasing this earthly body in a tornado

treking tirelessly threw neverending canyons and upwar tunnels

the spark from my pen is erased by further notes

and I quote:

"this is the bread of my soul."

my milk are these bones,

hollow and carrying scrolls

reminding my present self of past triumph and future woes

I could tell you the exact momnt where my divided persona is one

but to guess is to love

and shes looking for somthing

and I

I Have a long...

long

ways to go.

Im cultivating hope in this green house of a home

resting somewhere inbetween these mechanical comforts

some men kill for.

such awards

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