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blinks

to look upon faces,
sweet and harried all the same
looking back from black and white
pictures to match to names.
some in jobs and dreams
some only dreaming of jobs
behind bars, in cells,
stuck in time. lost in time.
some frozen in youth,
never to change, grow older.
buried beneath flowers and stone
peaceful til the end of time,
so is the way of life.
to be here and then not be here,
just a blink in time.
just a blink.

 

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everyone’s a poet

everyone’s a poet these days,
don’t you know it?
charcoal marks on our fingers –
would be if this weren’t a
modern keyboard.
got a thesaurus
got a dictionary –
right at our fingertips.
let’s discuss the politics
of late-term abortion –
but for the love of the God
we sure don’t believe in –
make it pretty.

everyone’s a poet these days,
writing passion, fire, and nonsense.
paper mistakes in the waste
but not really cause we’ve
got a backspace.
notebook’s not a notebook,
not anymore.
guns belong in holsters,
not child hands, but
it’s kind of poetic
(and tragic) how another
kid just blew his brains out.

everyone’s a poet these days,
and they mean it.
don’t you question the authority
they got from who only knows
what kind of backwoods Bible.
history, history is a beautiful thing
when you have pictures of people
you can filter like cheap coffee –
sepia always looks a little better on
low calorie Jewish diet.
only 6 million people died.

everyone’s a poet these days,
damn keyboard warriors.