I don’t want
I don’t need
bread
I don’t want
I don’t need
candle-waxed ideas
peddled from the head
Such secrets slipping
in and out of what seems normal…..
But tracking
and tracing
lies in waiting
like torture chambers
left in a barn to rust
and then sprung
rediscovered
on a hot dusty day
And over the hill
from within a kitchen painted blue
A bread
is rising
baking
And,
I don’t want it
don’t need it peddled
before my hunger
just want to die before the  hollow
or
turn and walk somewhere else
take solace in a treehouse
high so very high
somewhere else
just to say this is particularly lovely.
beautiful. i read it out loud and recorded it on my phone. so nice. heartfelt and sombre and real and flowing. made me feel. such great words in such a great order.
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hey michaelamichael…… it’s really shameful for me to even attempt to respond to such a dear compliment….. thank you. i hope you keep reading… and, your own finely carved out words often spur pause and contemplation in my own brain… so again, thank thank thank you!
in more geeked out tone…. i can’t believe how ridiculously cool it is to think that someone else would be reading my pome a loud…… especially aloud in UKish ; )
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no worries. i sound like dick van dyke from mary poppins. well, kinda. anyhow, you write good. keep it up and stay happy.xx michael
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And in the gray slated
green-painted-wet tunnel
that is the night road before me
I enter
Pass my soul’s ticket through the station
Homeward from the nightmarish day
I consider
Open up and wait for
Supernatural leavening
and warmth
And for
this soggy, simpering, drippy evening to pass
it’s soul through the station
burning a path for dawn
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funny…. i read the first part of your comment as…..
“no worries. I sound like a dick”. sent me scratching me head and eyes to do a double take…… so….. dick van dyke from mary poppins……. is that southern then? either way……
thanks again for reading.
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very lovely again
loved the sad dreaminess
of the last lines
about the treehouse
about somewhere else
very lovely
you are very
lovely
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