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Nothing Between



So full of empty between the ears;
void breeze reasoning,
zero thoughts a-blowing

Banished to the barren cornfields,
multi-grain years of accumulated wisdom
bear no pleasant, golden-age yield

Black sky intellectual famine
was lost cause shuttered-in, 
by a blight of self-centered locust feed

Constant dry spells of self-absorption: Attic dust
sparked a bewitchingly vague      eclipse acceleration ... 
a covering blindness of gross darkness  

No candlelight activity   ~   no emotional fertility
Ancient bones of moist contention
randomly doused by fiery forgetfulness 

Addled gestures 
buried 
beneath facial dry ground,
blanches 
the ash fallow soil
with expressionless sterility

Immense nothingness    ...   bountiful emptiness
A vacuous mental sheaf
bending to the hollow wind whisperings    heard less and less

Cranial cracked cistern,
watercolors of compassion spilling
New cretin observations ...
conversation water table on the dwindle

Kaleidoscope personalities
that are always chameleon changing
Dawn memories fading, thoughts diffusing
Never able again to see
things quite right   upstairs mirror prism bent improperly,
	casting past reflections mnemonic shadowy

Where did a neural immeasurable, 
liquid electric muse 
evaporate to?
How did an oasis of joyous rumination
disappear, 
without a serene memory dip
to refresh anew?

A once beautiful, fertile mind
is now 
banished to the barren cornfields

A formerly wondrous field of dreams,
now listens to the Alzheimer wind
silently mind-blowing

There’s nothing between the autumn ears,
yet the summer fears     springing     above the chest,
keeps winter growing

A once beautiful mind
is forever
banished to the barren cornfields

To listen, agitatedly, 
for the turbulent winds 
to silently come a-blowing

Having nothing between the ears;
only the never-ebbing, night falling fears ... 
and crashing waves of misty morning tears 
A tsunami loss of knowing    
Empty tidal thoughts above the chest,
which keeps on daily rising

Copyright © | Year Posted 2018




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Date: 8/30/2018 9:46:00 PM
Dark undertones, quite powerful when one reads a second and third time. The work of a true master. Regards, a true novice.
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Date: 8/30/2018 9:44:00 PM
A scarecrow flapping in the wind watches and reads black crows flying aimlessly across a grey winter page, while the cretins croak like bullfrogs a warning dire....hmmm I think I shall read this one again of yours. Visions of that David Bowie tune Blackstar.
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Book: Reflection on the Important Things