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Undressing · Of · A · Salad

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Steam rising up
Suds cascading down
My neck and back and front
Along my arms, along my legs
I watch as the water and suds form ripples as they pass over the little scars that now cover my leg. I touch them with my finger, tracing the lines. They are fading but still visible. Some of the marks, the deeper ones, the ones you can’t see, will never fade away
Current Music:
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Hi this is Michael Klausen how are you dealing?
Current Mood:
sick sick
Current Music:
voice to text mc
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Bonnie McMichael
Go get chatter
I'm back with a tenor
Bang bang bang

If I've ever let Bill
And I had
I got my goal
At bugs of the tainted

Were low lack laughed last

Lull this is a very brick in funny

And you start was a bank
I am wearing a minute gone
And I have wiped them
And you're all I have

I have beat of orange of Gore

A pink Gretna
Green to agreeing
To Barkley Korea
And I hope double in the backbone

And I a BNSI

Had me a Nomad
Like minute
and a hub broad debt editing

That I have big butter
The eye and lag
Bought the ticket
And I have begun to end

Had been the end
And I have been to the days
When he had to be sawed off

I've been a nil-by pleading unknown

I have been Mahoud-the buyer
Known body
When you need a no

Thank you

Stop Les Allen
As its Bob

(This isn't exactly what I said into the microphone ehe ha ehe ha)
Current Mood:
giggly giggly
Current Music:
the microphone did all the work!
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Picture: The following scenario begins with a Concert, small venue, good music...When it ends,this dark-haired woman asks if I would join her invitation to the band's after party...Surprized and feeling spontaneous I accept at the moment's notice (knowing all the same I have a rendezvous shortly).

I find myself speaking with the lead singer about his poetry and mostly about his first album and notice my surroundings appear to be a lemon-white four-walled hotel suite world. There is a coffee table and a few unlit votive candles. There is one other band member there, the drummer, and the woman who brought me in is at the door of the apartment with her sharp nails on the lock. The singer continues to speak, but all I can hear is her screaming at the door to "stay back!", that "the band is sleeping". I start to hear another voice from the other side of the door, but I can't tell what he is saying (whatever it is,it is aggresive,scary).

I try to focus on what the man in front of me is saying, when I notice his palm is holding many white pills...Looking over to my right, I notice the drummer has fallen asleep and snoring on the couch behind us.

As I turn to the door, I notice the door is open and the lady is gone. I don't even look outside, I shut the door right away, chain and bolt it even...Trying to get an idea of what's going on, I turn to the musician, and shell-shocked, find the singer asleep on the chair.

The door starts to rattle. The doorknob twists and moans.
Running to secure the door, it barges open only to have the chain catch its swing-I catch a glimpse of the man on the other side of the door-Grinning leather jacket with combed and jelled-back black hair. I quickly push back the door-his force, a wild thing.

The door continues to rattle...And with the situation not yet fully contained, I am awake.
Current Mood:
quixotic quixotic
Current Music:
Iron Maiden
* * *
In the arms of early dawn
A growth in sun melts the frost
Into a traffic of aqueous beads
Nourishing a birth of springtime blossom

Spring is life surprising me

The caterpillar dreams its wings
Of a butterfly; dancing
A wild mouse quickens its movement
On the beat of a footnote

The end of a long winter sleep awakens

Even still, within the crack of a stone
I see a flower daring to grow
Survival seems natural today
A warm goodbye is felt
As winter waves in passing

* * *
* * *
Come to me my salty friends
Flow freely from my eyes
For after all the weeping ends
A piece of sadness dies
Current Mood:
Current Music:
the buzz of fluorescent lighting
* * *
Sunday's rain set in like December's dance
Thunder called your name & gray was felt all week
Manamoo, I pray papoo has found your hand

Short time passes on the kitchen window sill
Sunlight & water gives life to your memory
You never knew how I took a little piece
To remember to pray every day for you...
Your pain, your broken heart, the pills, your sickness

My life has not been a perfect one but you've always
Given perfect love through simple smiles
Language is not of importance now
I speak with you every day
I believe you hear me when I say
I want to make you proud

Too soon the Burrow's Tail came back
Physical grieve would not let me bring it in
Until yesterday I realized
What wonderful memories it's door would bring

The following Sunday, summer's sun gave in for a last fight
As if a peace was understood

Current Mood:
* * *
Liquid Sunrise Trickles
Past Venetian Blinds
Through Darkened Pupils
* * *
House Warming Party

(((((Not really Poetry)))))

Full House
Barren bookcase
White wall decor

She can't decide exactly
Where to stack all his cards
Or the books,,,
The many, many dusty books

Or even the smallest thing
Is undecidable

Like the tea flavor of the day

Whacked out

Definitely an apartment
Yet when she paces closer
Towards the window,
The curtain is tattered


Shape~shifting curtains
Like chameleons

They turn into my parent's
An ugly 70's motif

Dark forest greens

Like a funny tripped out kaleidoscope

There are many compliments however
and perhaps


A love interes

* * *
At last I heard his voice;
The words unclear
About the third time 'round
The sound grew distance
And I heard the words......

Clarity grew many vines
I couldn't tell you in
Repetition exactly what
The words were......

Only that I was asked what state I was in....

Shaman man explained poeticaly
The details of our test
Mixing, melding alchemist palms

There were four;
Olive's oil
A tincture?

Explaining poeticaly once more
This time delicately

We would trail into the room with the locked door
Running past the beast,
Drinking exactly half the potion

Then and only then
would the door open
Thus lending a hand in rejeuvination.

The beast was dog-like
Spotted dalmation
Paper tiger teeth
... a brick tower

A brick-shit house
Approaching out of a closet's
Darkened corner

I fumbled with the potion
I tried to drink
My half
The bittery seedy taste
Wounding my tongue

I was nothing short of clumsy,
I could never be the graceful swan
And the drinking lasted forever
Always with one hand on the beast's muzzle

And he did nothing; stared....

When the potion was handed to him,
He placed it high up

Out of reach
Out of sight
Out of mind

One hand on the ancient's body
My eyes fixed on the exit

And I heard him whisper breathlessly
What did they think it would do?

And I heard shaman magik
Cry from that same dark corner
What state are you in?
The words were clear once more

Did they think I was in New York?
Current Music:
MAD laughing
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