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Donnie Strickland

from the Add-A-Poem Guestbook
Born of new fear
and
resident within the past pain,
I wait and in my surroundings I writhe
and remain faceless to society's mirrors.
Its simple...
I want epiphanies.
But epiphanies anger the substandard soul,
instead turning each moment into wraiths
that will escape all healing comprehension.
I prefer for the oracles to remain silent:
idolatry is low and different.
Its what we do to each other that bothers me so.
I want what you have.
Too difficult to get over not having.
Our appetites and hungers are deviant and distracting.
I could elaborate but I won't.
Here is something else to placate:
I bleed for numerable causes,
too many to name,
but I was really sincere at the time.
And is that what it comes down to?
Does sincerity add truth to our lives regardless
as to how wrong it eventually turns out to be?
But I was sincere at the time.
Everything burns like caustic poison
and resurfaces as something well meant.
Its Shakespearean for a rose by another name.
Its simple...
I want paradoxes.
No wait, I have a surplus of puzzles
and a cavalcade of conundrums.
Silence and vacancy...
I just want reassurance.



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