Poetry Blog by Memoir.

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13

If I was a Jazz singer.

music would be a kaleidoscope to focus my vision,
I would listen whilst dancing with my mother in our kitchen
she would laugh and I would smile, life would be pitch perfect
and every hour, minute, second to get to this point...it would be truly worth it.
cause lately there ain't no sunshine in this place,
no Jazz to replace the reposing look of sadness on h...

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The Golgi.

entry picture

 

Life's colours are painted by the brush our brain cells create.
 


The Golgi, "a neuron in the cerebral cortex with short dendrites
and with either a long axon or a short axon
that ramifies in the grey matter."
I hope to turn my grey matter into a rainbow,
each strand of light connecting to my heart's valves.



Curiosity - a humans speciality,
our chef's signature d...

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Bury me In the Clouds

 

 

 

A person can change, right?
I'm a leopard neglecting my spots for sport
& shedding skin, trying to forget or misplace my immoralities.
I was born in brawls & cut from the knuckle of enmity
ended with a parting shot.
I've been loved, spat out and tattooed by the system you applaud.


Now I'm looking for a way out.
a second chance I thought was you.
If I can hold o...

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A state of Californication.

 

 

Can you please embrace your dirt cheap ego,
pockets with no sign or lint.
Walking among the filth in your designer shoes
eyes nowhere but forward,
nose tilted towards the clouds.
The scent of scum is always a little much for you.


What I don't tickle your fancy?


Whisper to me the darkness of your mind
an laugh at poverty from a distance
with money bags, over eac...

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Hawthorne.

entry picture

 

Repose beneath the stars that amulet your identity,
for your shine will forever subsist
in my twilight.
Who readied the signal fire?
The ghost that plays melody in our bedroom!
If our passion was a piano and I alone processed the power
to hit the exact notes;
The precise notes to expose you’re heart to me
...would you ignore the reckless sound and tantrums
of ignorant el...

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William, It was really Nothing.

 

 

Lately I've been sitting watching time stop
my eye on the clock & musing
on how to write,
the world won’t let me sleep
let me say goodnight to the man in the moon.
I'm just revolving in my armchair
450 years I've been sat here;
with an arch enemy
the lamp light exposing a Poets despair.
Drifting in and out of concepts my grey matter did not provoke.
My fingernail...

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Haunt the Proud.

 

I have died 600 hundred times before
& through-out the pain there you where;
the heir of serenity preached, spring fourth a trinity of able souls
and although I have been shown how to sleuth, I'm told only a leader will survive;
so in the stronghold
today life,
do what you will to stay with me.


Fore I'm an elder whose boy inside has witnessed enough to haunt the proud
...

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Alabama.

 

The truth is both of us
we come one,
two energies brought together as a positive force.
I bend the realistic to be close to you,
spending days love sick
holding out my hands
& sprouting wings to fly toward your highest limits.


I pray
our energy never dies with us.


Under A Pale Moon


It's the nights that are the worst
when all that exiles me from these s...

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Underneath My Midnight.

 

Fairy lights, Christmas tree
winter culmination,
I'm sleepwalking - coma locution
clenched fist, wrapped with the holy grail &
ensuing the blood of several a gentleman.


Homeward bound, fireside
ridgewood to the face
- dispersed teeth provide an ultimate stocking filler.
44. shots to the diaphragm
& you bleed out mulled wine & I ingest a Kings feast;
carousing your...

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City.of.Snakes

 

China nails rest on these hands, which
reinforce the gospel,
the wrath of misfortune and empathy.


A cold gaze suits a man.
It relaxes thoughts & turns the casket lucid.
I now behold each mistake
served with a pig's head for affection
...too pig headed,
I did not read the blueprints
took a leap of faith,
plummeting on rotten diaphragm.


My television warns of...

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30 Minutes, 60.

 

Perception is the purest reality
& sometimes my love, I scale the gates of Heaven on this bird wings,
while praising your notability.


It's the marvel of kinship,
the eerie ribbon you've plaited us with & this arrow
now lay to rest as the key to bare my wildest dreams.


Sometimes I long to be that arrow
fired over the bow bridge and above the flames
that proceeding you, ...

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The Bait at The Bates Hotel.

 

Hell hath no furies like a woman
charring around
up let alone down,
stream bellowing from her pitch pipe.
Damn girl!
Tonight I'm on auto-pilot &
flying solo through every strip club in the northwest.


I'm dying here
perplexing
drowning in lucid episodes.


I'll leave your body broke
churched among the seats of my egotistical menace,
I focus on the wanderlust of nu...

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305.

 

A fire trailing wrath of God & more consequentially my wrath.

 

This chamber rests cold,
flags south to where its latest victim lies
...callous and repining recent events.

 

To smite me prepare to face all elements,
having all abilities forced on you;
Ten Commandments and all.

 

This chamber is 44. inch steel that encircles
a shell case of chaste supposit...

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Donna Louise.

She tours sidewalks of roared glass
observes the dirty phenomenon
night-life,
seen through the depths of
Helen Kellers eyes.
burnt under the cities alternating current
a pulse,
tapping solar beats to beaming dreams.


& has seen more than she should
her eye's give it away,
wisdom beyond her years does blind
the innocence of Rapunzel.
Life is nothing she has read befor...

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Lost In the Sauce.

What is Expression  
- a preoccupation communicated by language 
uttering, an utterance 
intonation bounded by inaudibility. 
 
 
Hence what for Linguistics  
- a scientific quantification of human language 
disunited into categories not to mention context. 
 
 
Where I call home, the gutter stays a float 
violence is rocketing 
still the fireworks are unseen. 
The a...

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My Minds Transition

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This is the new testament;


God said cover me
take the bullets & as you fall cast no shadow –
we’ve no sympathy for martyrs
even to the people who stand to witness the end of a hero;
The re- birth of a world with nothing but its history.
So I compose for a little while; musing with a smile,
I'm not John Holt, they call me God’s problem child
it’s my world, ...

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