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Tuesday, July 10, 2012


Don't forget to oil your elbows and cornrows
the caking dryness of your cuts and bruises.
We mustn't reveal the true nature of things.
You cannot forget to put yourself together pretty,
dress up the scars and put on some lip-stick on your dry, peeling lips,
dye dying shoes, weather the changing tide fashionably,
who knew you had it in you.

Let's not forget to speak to things as if they were for them to become,
courage contained comes from the curious ravings of mad men,
sometimes called faith.

Umbrella on a sunshiny day,
waiting for the rain to clear, blue sky.
We cannot succumb to realism
Too harsh to face
we can hardly relate.

When the waiting becomes wanting,
Job's patience combined with David's courage,
Paul's letters reaching out from time past
I become the song of broken, desolate souls.

So until the rain shows up to quench this parched ground
and make the fruit sprout,
I arise each day to my routine and do my thing.

Let the herald arrive with my revelation,
Erase the desolation.
He's not late or early,
Write on time.

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