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Gargoyle

extreme the hand snatch the cup
I will collect pride
very good morning my injured limbs
my sons
remember that time only disasters?
but everything in the flesh achieves healing
and already my defeats knew before:
the audacity of courage ignores
who will soon wear shame
she shrinks she hermit gets shy
spreads the sour scent of runaways
quarter to six I woke up
coffee how many sips did i take before i knew?
our trifle insignificance
on the outside it's just a skinny shell
in the middle nerve pulsate membrane
and in the core where it weighs tons
act the gargoyle
that accuses us of being nothing, 
my injured limbs, 
my sons

Copyright © | Year Posted 2022




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Date: 11/3/2022 8:50:00 AM
Very interesting poem, Marco. I particularly liked "...how many sips did I take before I knew our trifle insignificance." A consideration of self-awareness that penetrates the "nerve pulsate membrane." Yes, it is an inner gargoyle "that accuses us of being nothing."
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Marco Chies
Date: 11/3/2022 2:32:00 PM
Your observations are always punctual and neuralgic, Milton. Thanks for commenting.

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