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Inebriated Lullabies

 

I take our zones of com­pre­hen­sion.
Leav­ing dreams so appre­hended.
Rec­om­mended was the path that leads to wealth and bub­ble baths.
Fuck the rea­son.
Love the rhyme.
Ine­bri­ated lullabies.

5.9.11

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Retriev­ing a need to breed relief.
Afraid to feel afraid to see.
Afraid of peace.
The rhythm weeps.
We breathe belief.
We feed the dream.
Pro­mot­ing greed our cul­ture bleeds.

Still we rise with weary eyes.

11.15.10

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Drip­ping rhythm pinch­ing wis­dom.
Drink­ing love.
Shar­ing liv­ing.
Under­stated con­ver­sa­tions.
Hid­ing high to trade creation.

12.12.10

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And as I fade away they will soon for­get my name.
Soon thoughts of me will float through less,
the holes will close inside their chests.
When I fade away they’ll be noth­ing left.

9.11.11

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Tumul­tuous reach leaves hands on the floor.
Sus­pended wrists.
Strug­gling for more.
Sense­less self­ish.
Sen­si­tive self­less.
We give and give still they leave us helpless.

9.11.11

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Serene in a region.
Smil­ing breezy each evening.
Access to rea­son and par­adise breath­ing.
Its only a set­ting.
A clowns liv­ing there.
Giv­ing his life to a world that don’t care.

9.11.11

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Steal­ing every breath by walk­ing.
Enlight­en­ing every thought by talk­ing.
Fas­ci­na­tion.
Cap­ti­va­tion.
Coal­li­sion of imaginations.

9.11.11

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Non­sense clocks tick tock illu­sions liv­ing now with love infusion.

4.27.11

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We as one can be.
Awake enough to see.
We can all be free.

5.9.11

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Chas­ing for­ever.
Embrac­ing clever.
She hopes that when she leaves.
She spread a way to just believe.
The sym­phony is bit­ter­sweet but words repeat repeat­edly.
Lead­ing leads to weav­ing means to view the vision to proceed.

5.9.11

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Feed­ing need.
Bleed­ing heav­ing breath­ing thiev­ing leav­ing evenings,
seam­lessly.
We all can be.
What we see.
If we agree.
We are we.

5.9.11

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In favor of breath­ing.
Unafraid of leav­ing that which leaves the feel­ings grieving.

5.9.11

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Per­haps we hate for those sur­round­ing.
Unable to shake the grief that found us.
Awake and liv­ing fil­ing smiles.
What can we leave before we’re dying?

5.9.11

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Per­haps some­day I may pro­vide the free­dom artists alibi.
Per­haps in light of all my ven­tures Ill in fact be some­ones mentor.

5.9.11

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Maybe what I per­ceive as genius is sim­ply a prod­uct of me as need­less. Caught up in words that describe such a life that will lead me to be con­fined by my strife.

5.9.11

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Non­sense lit­er­a­ture.
Love the fix­ture.
Absorbed in myself.
Embrac­ing my scrip­ture.
I feel I am here.
For just a few years.
I walk to cre­ate.
To escape from the fear.

5.9.11

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The best I have known is in coal­li­sion form draped in chaos.
An ani­mal of its own.
Gripe and grieve for rea­son being.
Leav­ing hearts on bleed­ing sleeves.

9.25.11

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They tell me I have a funny grip.
Ive been told my moves are unusual.
If cre­ation is visual.
My sur­vival is musical.

1.11.11

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Its so easy to remove.
So dif­fi­cult to stand.
Defend against with love.
Intend to understand.

8.16.11

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