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Poetry Magnum Opus

The Illusion of Continuity


dr_con

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The Illusion of Continuity

 

Friends

Get uncomfortable

when I call a transition

a little death

 

Confronted by forty years

of paperwork is it any wonder

I fear the Dead

 

Here are my divorce papers

Randomly inserted love notes

to selves long since go going

 

Gone there

unpaid taxes and

pay and movie stubs

of once dear employments

and their counterbalancing

enjoyments O look!

 

A stratum

of notebooks filled

with utter madness a biblio

of desires most met some

yet to be fulfilled in some

other lifetime manifestation

of a greed so deep it eats

the world and digests it

perfectly suited for its

half angel half beast

host and his time

bound yearnings

 

Most profound

This season of fake Springs

generates excess squirrels

each carrying their meaning

like nuts paraded before

suitors and families Look

what I can do as the joke

says Their message clear

 

We are the lost parts of you

scurrying at our own tempo

in our own place just waiting

waiting for you to remember

 

And I do

Working with my Charges

Half Beasts Half Angels

I want to bring this up

remind them Continuity

is Illusion Change is the

only law and This too

shall pass Cliched

wisdoms pointing

to the Moon

 

What more

could I my charges

or these damnable

squirrels ask for?



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A stratum

of notebooks filled

with utter madness

 

How sadly and utterly profound.

 

At the FIRST mention of squirrels I just KNEW they would return.

 

One critique: how does "Randomly inserted" vs. "Inserted randomly" ?

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Thank You for the crit!

 

Changed, (Your the second one who saw the poem and said- Love it but not quite right;-P The first changed 3 words and you have changed the order of words- Far better piece as a result;-) Thank You...

 

 

J

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Thank You for the crit!

 

Changed, (Your the second one who saw the poem and said- Love it but not quite right;-P The first changed 3 words and you have changed the order of words- Far better piece as a result;-) Thank You...

 

 

J

 

De nada, jefe! :)

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  • 3 weeks later...

Life is often a matter of being swallowed alive by the detritus we leave behind, the larger half of the garbage and memories we should have thrown out long ago, but couldn't quite bring ourselves to do. Now it wraps itself around us like tentacles, like seaweed, and drags us down to the depths to drown. The voice, if any, is monotone, has no real feeling: it says sorry, pal, end of the line.

Drown your sorrows in drink, by all means, but the real sorrows can swim

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Thanks Bren! I sincerely appreciate the critique;-) Have stopped posting 'everything' for a bit due to the lack of response, hoping it'll make me worker harder to please myself and my imagined audience- rather than the simply my fav poets here;-)

 

Juris

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