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Ineffable

 
Like the internet;
the pre-disposed characters
of life and love  - coloured with
asterisks, italics;
pressed flowers of lies;
the fingertip and the keyboard,
untying, tying bootlaces to trip over;
there is nothing really known.
 
Try to forget the sun;
the mortal warmth,
and your figurative too –
everyone disappears;
authority or not, the likely firsts;
those who bargain with time
wasting it.
 
Imagine elasticity
before its yielding last;
thoughts as connected,
as unoriginal
as just holding on,
 
then gone,
 
and all will not be lost,
for not ever being found at all.
 
 

 

◄ Punk

They Put Milk in the Rain. ►

Comments

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Marianne Louise Daniels

Mon 21st Oct 2013 15:18

Thank you for reading and Philipos - thank you for ploughing through! That seems a long time ago now but I have fond memories of it all coming together! x

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Steve Higgins

Wed 9th Oct 2013 19:36

like this, especially 'those who bargain with time wasting it'
best wishes, Steve

Philipos

Fri 27th Sep 2013 20:52

I agree with Charles B. This is a fine poem & should be celebrated. Am still ploughing through 'Misery begins at Home' BTW, in spite of many distractions.

<Deleted User> (11485)

Fri 27th Sep 2013 15:17

Very fine work and a smart poem.

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