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Poems

BATS 🦇

Still as death, lying under trees, Inverted, where I find my ease. Flit-flutter, my pinions beat swift and low, Flying ’round the luminous sky, Time now for a slumberous sigh. Lanky, a vampiric form I seem, Release my hand and hear my dream.   Flapping wild above the sky, Not as hard as rocks on

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DEMOCRAZY

..Being silent about myself Because Hope is an irony And the future is a metaphor compared to ephemerality. I am paradox, a very futile euphemism called a special one, a special foreshadowing. My name is praised with Euphony but my realization is cacophony. Thought my life would rhyme like Alliteration, or assonance but it’s parataxis;

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THE MARKED

A child, they said, was born so free,   Yet freedom’s touch he’d never see.   No tears to shed, already marked,   A name bestowed, a life embarked.   An identity he cannot claim,   A silent voice, a hidden flame.   If only names were all they chose,   But paths and dreams, they too impose.   A future

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