Thursday, July 15, 2010

CALABASH OF BREWED PASSIONS

My carapace now lacks space for me to show face

Show of face is now but a farce free of facetious phrases

My public is in multiplicities of eyes I cant see or be

I can't hear the social silence that comes with confidence

I cant trust my rustic reticence for my love is now rusty

I'm lost in familiar neighbourhood and absent from my being

It's sad and hard when one feels a yearn for a yawn

To miss the sweet memories of boredom of contentment

When those public eyes were part of mine and none so lethal


I'm traduced by tradition of my own deductions of dues

My denialist deeds that take me away from naked truth

For I want to believe it's alright when it's all wrong

That I do because I'm wired to do only that Ive afore done

Hard and fast the facts harden but still I deny I'm undone

That I've lost, I'm lost, I'm getting lost though I can revert

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