wake up to remember

morning darkness

a community of tastes smells

between seasons

no ceremony or ribbons needed

around ten of three

my fellow souls,

time warped

shrink wrapped

travel unravel

happened so years ago

wonder if i hunt what i will find

secrets torn stuffed

attempts to look an other way

over there

under here

late or early

i've forgotten where

thankfully ,

most i pulverized

hammer to pill

thoughts float

of one scream

unanswered

never wished to wake the dead

the clock watches

and you try ,

try not to stare

evaporates

squeezes

until you cough

a fond reminder

of times lived like a dying man...

never die

Comments

Ruth Newell March 20, 2012 @ 12:30 p.m.

Holy Mackerel, ZMan!!! Super powerful! Well worth the wait.

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Ruth Newell March 20, 2012 @ 4:22 p.m.

Oh now. Look at you--going on and making a cute little nickname for me in return. You are too cute.

Now let's talk poetry for a sec, here. This poem is a good example of what I mean when I say that your writing has...matured over the last year. Granted, that statement is said under the assumption that all the poems have been posted in real time, which I'm sure is not entirely accurate. I have resurrected some for the past. Granted, in so doing I edited them quite a bit before posting, but none the less. Back to the maturation bit though. The reason I say this is that your non linear poems such as this one are growing in depth and breath, of content, and style, and technique even. You really are a natural, not just at the rhythm you create with what I call your movement poems...whether they be about your walk down a given street at a given hour or about the things you see as you scan your surroundings--those poems move the reader visually. The non linear ones move the reader emotionally--all from your word structure, the images that you are developing with focus on the words you choose and where you place them. If your movement poems are the song, these are the instrument...you can almost feel them reverberating with intention and memories and deep rooted emotional surges which so many of us can relate to. I think I mentioned to you once before that a Poetry instructor of mine long ago told me that he felt the definition of art was the recreation of sensations.; if we've managed that, then it's art. I think I agree with him. You perhaps don't see yourself as a budding artist, a true poet heart and soul, perhaps not to the degree you might see that in your painting, but I do. I really really do. Keep writing, Z. This is really hot ticket stuff.

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richzombie March 20, 2012 @ 5:50 p.m.

wow that's quite a bit to digest and it is very interesting/amazing...i wish i could respond to your post in a much better way - thank you really thank you - you have definately been a source of motivation for continuing my writing

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Ruth Newell March 20, 2012 @ 6:52 p.m.

Most welcome. Good, I am glad. And, you do encourage me. by reading, by what you next write/post...the overlaps, the undertone.

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quillpena March 22, 2012 @ 4:10 p.m.

I don't remember what I was supposed to forget.

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