chorsu

Where’s the great epic poems that are
needed in times like these.
Spiraled on seashores-scribbled in the sky- dug in the earth.
Bosom held messages from angel headed girls whispering
giggles thru pursed lips.
Bottles strewn-head reelin we search for the door
-pen-paper-escapades-capers of childhood memory.
Careen thru lean on the table, pen in heart
we dabble-dream-sleep.
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as soon as I can
5 tiny words
that ring so true
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a bloating tree
will tell no lies
of its fruit
laying strewed
and crushed
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i would love to make it all up.
A fine fantasy to let myself down with
A beautiful memory that never was
A fanciful dream that can never be
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day old soup and tea
quiet trees lean-rest from the wind
i lean-rest with the memories
of day old soup and tea
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