– a random poem about a random term –

I never use the word ‘colloquial’. I just cannot locate a sentence for the term. If using it involves conversation and speech, should the word not be used more frequently, more fiercely?   Colloquial… colloquial… used with comfortable fashion.  Colloquial… colloquial… ten letters worth of passion. Colloquial… colloquial… informal touches here and here.   Colloquial… colloquial… why is the English language weird?   […]

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– once or twice before –

Oh I loved you, yes, I loved you… once or twice before, and you hurt me and desert me… each time all the more.   So before I get repetitive, ramble on with rhymes, will you wait and listen, will you take the time?   ‘Cause I loved you, yes, I loved you… on an autumn day, […]

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– arms around him –

If I see my father again in the flesh, I’ll wrap my arms around him, forgiving him for what he didn’t do.   We’ll paint canvases and houses, not for money, but for art. We’ll paint canvases and houses, for creativity is where we’ll start.   We’ll have lunch in Birmingham diners, discussing Alabama versus […]

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– absence –

As I cry here selfishly, I sit and ask, ‘do you think of me?’ Do you think of me? Do you think of me? Do you sit and think of how it used to be?   A dusty Tiffin road… bandanas of orange and green… words that were never told… goals that were never seen. […]

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– self-examination –

I have never seen a number of objects in person. I have never tasted a number of delicacies. I have never explored much outside my window. Now, I believe what my soul is telling me. What a short whisper I am. What a prejudicial mind I possess. What a strange plain I find myself roaming. […]

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– crying ugly for you –

Hey brown eyes, what’s this ache you feel here on an April’s day? Your cheeks are cold, and your body looks ill – what causes this dismay? Whenever you feel blue, I can’t help but feel it too. Sharing in your pain hurts… and here comes the waterworks.   A tear here, a snivel there, springtime […]

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– monday morning news –

Everyone is singin’ about Monday morning birds, how the chirpin’ and the screechin’ give ‘em the blues. In the morning hour though, I think I got the words for the big, bright side to all this noisy news.   At least we still got a world where birds can still sing. At least we still got an […]

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