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Rage Against This Machine

Home, Ghuey, Sweet Home

Not For The Bloom of Tears Cultivated These Last 100 Years

Oh, Now, The Pink Moon

And Even Stars Die



You Are Not My Audience, I Just Borrowed You For Awhile

why not ask the cat?

Odd Thoughts and Juxtapositions

Some Meaningful Proof For A Hopeful Dreamer's Eyes

Ramada

If This Is Any Art For Which You Care

Beauty

Make (of) Me A Snow Angel

So You Do (May 10, 2010 written for June 1987)

the life and times of Medusa

I Talk To A Machine In My Darkness

A Man Called Tsuris

Tuesday afternoon in the jewelry box

All Beings Considered

Disappear

Woman Of A Certain Age

Better Than A Cyanide Capsule

The Life of Tigger

I Feel Fine(r)

Like A Snow-globe

Mrs. Stine, Isn't It Time?

So Much Beauty

Max on the max

Certain Succulent Pieces Of Time

What Is This Death? ( As I Grow Older And Nearer To It)

Great Big Waterproof World

un-Completion (I Prefer It)

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Odd Thoughts and Juxtapositions


whenever I discover a partially full
disposable coffee drinking cup
stranded on the street

I cannot resist the urge
to tip it
over

watch the coffee form into dark
rivulets imaginary rivers rushing down
sidewalks creating miniature streams

I like to watch the directions
the randomness in which
the liquid glides and turns and pools

I think to myself
life is that way
wild and rushing
haphazard unplanned-for
accidental

I like to give homeless people something
they like to eat or drink
but I ask them first about their
preferences
and couch them within my meager budget's reasonableness

random acts of kindness seem to satisfy and please
on both ends of the spectrum
creating rainbows within and without

people feel like people again
its a kind of transformation that a little
act of giving can do
making one another feel whole again
I feel like a person and hopefully
they do once more

too often they get pushed along
treated more or less worse than curbside furniture
or like prisoners of their unfortunate circumstances
and reminded for it as daily punishment

I don't think people start out choosing
to be homeless
anymore than that cup of coffee got left
behind by the bus stop

I pick up the coffee cup after I have
kicked it over for fun

who picks up the Homeless from their
street corners beside the police...

why am I putting these two ideas together
in my head?


legal Copyright 7/21/2015 written directly to the page from thoughts on the bus
All rights are reserved by this Author Meloo/Melissa A Howells
Straight from Her Tilt-a-World

editing (perhaps) later.

 All ideas/rants/poetry/prose are the expressed LEGAL PROPERTY
OF THIS WRITER/AUTHOR.

LEGAL PROPERTY/COPYRIGHT of this WORK AND THIS SITE TITLE
BY THIS Writer/Author.





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