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Darrell Hoover Poem
Worms rotate in a peculiar procession
As spring enters - the conquering gladiator.
Saplings play in the breeze.
Dogs smile at the sun while the wind breathes with sighing despondency.
Falling leviathan snow flake blossoms, float to the ground from reoccurring trees.
Nature holds us all in her warm embrace, green, urgent, and rampant.
Copyright © Darrell Hoover | Year Posted 2007
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Darrell Hoover Poem
The Home
They stumble around humming silent, mad little tunes to themselves.
Needles of solace pierce their skin, as they recline, watching Lassie.
I look at the shattered pieces of my psyche I just hurled against the wall.
The pieces gaze up at me, seemingly unimpressed with my rage.
The holes in the white walls mock me with their inanimate grins.
The remains of sheet rock dangle like broken teeth.
I wipe the blood from my hands; an assault by an angry mirror...
I look around to see denial, but panic is there instead.
These are all dreams on the couch. Dreams where hungry jackals live.
They pry out my memories with their forceps and guilt.
Restrained, I utter no words.
There are others like me.
They all mumble and scream, meandering about in their gowns.
They drone on about Jesus and vanilla sundaes with whipped cream.
They look out the window with no clue of where they are.
Perhaps someday I will venture out past the oak trees.
There used to be a world, just past those trees.
I wonder... I wonder if it’s still there.
Copyright © Darrell Hoover | Year Posted 2007
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Darrell Hoover Poem
I walk alone on this desolate beach. There are no accolades echoing in my
head. I am a wasted shell that has excelled in the art of failure. My chemical
companions, and vanishing memories wade through the low- tide waves. I
have built many castles in this sand. But I, not the sea, have destroyed them all.
Copyright © Darrell Hoover | Year Posted 2007
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Darrell Hoover Poem
Someday I hope to feel the cool rain of autonomy on my face again.
Someday I want to understand this alien concept of normalcy I keep hearing
about.
I’d like to find this elusive God I’ve read of in his various forms and books. And
actually find love that bends like bamboo in the wind.
Perhaps someday I will regain faith in the politicians and preachers
masquerading as honest men.
I’ve just been sitting here playing 52-card pickup with my life; and I can’t even
find all the cards anymore.
It was easier when you were here to help pick up the pieces.
Maybe someday I will find hope again.
Maybe someday...
Copyright © Darrell Hoover | Year Posted 2007
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