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Damn, words are not enough

and I'm tired of dancing with starlight

damn, nothing is working anymore in this sideshow

this little shop of horrors, the anna-plant is chewing

me up down and sideways

and no one is here to save me or to savour me

either, stupid plant, it used to be green and now it's

a rudimentary shade of bullshit, I want to sit down

and drink tea with you, see what makes you fly and

how you fall to earth, I don't want to talk about

enlightenment or stories and colours of what hues

love is and how it moves from you to me and

why it does, I want to play a game of basketball

with you or walk to the edge of an ocean and see

the waves of reality and let the salt spray my face

in actuality, not this obsessive poetry writing

story writing or tales of glory and woe is me,

misshapen and deformed words on laptop screens

going to identities and cosmic dancers

I'm tired of holding my skin in

paper cups, I keep searching for

dime-a-dozen Christ-bums,

but oh I would share a nectarine or plum

and watch the sunset and ask how your

day really went and if you had thought of me

while you were gone, and we'd hold one

another oh so tight and love the scent

of Us

 

 

 

 

Love,

anna

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Nisargadatta , " anabebe57 " <anabebe57

wrote:

>

> Damn, words are not enough

> and I'm tired of dancing with starlight

> damn, nothing is working anymore in this sideshow

> this little shop of horrors, the anna-plant is chewing

> me up down and sideways

> and no one is here to save me or to savour me

> either, stupid plant, it used to be green and now it's

> a rudimentary shade of bullshit, I want to sit down

> and drink tea with you, see what makes you fly and

> how you fall to earth, I don't want to talk about

> enlightenment or stories and colours of what hues

> love is and how it moves from you to me and

> why it does, I want to play a game of basketball

> with you or walk to the edge of an ocean and see

> the waves of reality and let the salt spray my face

> in actuality, not this obsessive poetry writing

> story writing or tales of glory and woe is me,

> misshapen and deformed words on laptop screens

> going to identities and cosmic dancers

> I'm tired of holding my skin in

> paper cups, I keep searching for

> dime-a-dozen Christ-bums,

> but oh I would share a nectarine or plum

> and watch the sunset and ask how your

> day really went and if you had thought of me

> while you were gone, and we'd hold one

> another oh so tight and love the scent

> of Us

>

>

>

>

> Love,

> anna

 

Whoa Anna.............Sweet! Damn good poetry. Keep it up...I mean

it.....this is SPECTACULAR. I loved it and Ilove it and I love you!

 

 

........bob

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