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i am the dissident poetician...i tear down fences with sardonic sardines and metaphysical cucumbers

Wednesday, September 18, 2013


a disheveled room filled with junk

blunted needles in a hay stack

walking purposefully with promptitude
through rain, hail or shine
those were our halcyon days
a convivial period of unremitting adventure

nostalgia for yesteryear's pandemonium
fraught with danger at every junction
a debauched period of stultifying decisions
dire ramifications catch up with us all

this will be the final time
the last taste, she tells herself

despair temporarily assuaged
self-deceit now unveiled
a vicious circle reinforced
more than merely a waste of time

and we are in the same sinking boat
going nowhere and going there fast

this shall not be my future
the last time, I told myself

only the fortunate few come out unscathed
if only it were fools who reminisce
but she certainly is far from a fool
and I believe myself not to be a fool

the last time will be the final time
so we would like to tell ourselves

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