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The very nature of my soul
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The Election
A poet thrives on mortal wounds
The Election
America is a land
untitled
The days of my life are numbered
The frozen winter froths at the bit
America is as a schoolyard
Remember
I wear the cloak of death
The demon comes in the middle of the night
I like my bed
The new child
If you were a candle
Divorce is a child
There's the door
The Jesus junkie
To my ex
Slow children
Can medals hold a child
The silence of spring
The very nature of my soul
For Robin Andrews 1982-2000
Something inside is broken
For T.
I am only one small and fragile thing
Mission statement rant
Floating submerged
Coos Bay love song
Freedom of Speech
The Indominatable Spirit
Where were you?
Sunday Drivers
Life is a film...

The very nature of my soul
is unable to grasp the thought,
apprehend the concept,
how inept.
 
Cascading mass un-animal
being force fed undercooked
morsels of putrid meat
left over from the last revolution,
evolution.
 
Living in frenzied hysteria
blind paranoid delusion
of a riotous youth,
and mob rule.
 
Insane delirium of sardine suburb life,
drug induced happiness
of trim front lawn and picture post card,
your children smoke marijuana.
 
Short changed back stabbing
livlihood of the thin dime cult
chasing a dollar bill dream
to forest lawn.

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