A Desperate Soul

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A desperate soul,

with an ire that rages like

wind. Fitful outbreaks

 

between wistful thoughts

of melancholy and high

spirits. Changeable

 

disposition, with

vagaries and feral needs;

a lust for relief.

 

A shoulder on which

to lean, sorrowful and mild.

Frailties that ring clear.

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My Bambinos

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I know a tousle haired pixie,

and her feet never touch the ground.

She’s a child so pink and ditzy,

always looking to fool around.

 

And I know a strong-willed stripling,

as bullish as a charging train.

Forever scribbling and fiddling,

and looking to make his escape.

 

And they have an older brother,

contrasting in every way.

Quiet as if undercover,

and obsessed by video games.

Ode To My Bed

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You are wide like the sweeping night,

 

and you are wrought like a hulking

 

Grenadier. A protective cage,

 

welcoming to the sick and stale.

 

 

 

You are plum like the rising sun;

 

and you remain privy to my

 

secrets. Though I do not know if I can

 

trust you, one so knowledgeable.

 

 

 

Your gossipy joints threaten to

 

disclose my secrets; but I shall

 

forgive your prattling in exchange

 

for a sleep inducing cuddle.