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seriously
the blues are just another clever disguise of night when the sun goes down it turns the world to shadows variations of black the blues lack color but they're the blues all the same the blues are a very serious sorting game its an art you can become an expert one who could paint their portrait and identify the genuine article in blue its said today we celebrate the losers instead of the risers I think we're continents of empathy-demisers and deny-ers lost and loosing out on love losing out too on all the necessities money, housing, companionship the very last of these contributes to the mostlasting losing demise no one talks about the blues in their lives maybe they're too quiet too wary maybe the world's too contrary and full of judgment hiding and too much in the shadows to speak is not where we seek our leaders, our friends here is where the beleaguered meet their end what if we chose to celebrate the meek is it not they will inherit the earth and all the blues contained within it this is the box of darkness we chose not to examine in not doing so we risk being the (reaL) losers. blue menu/of course/Times, they are Roman all scribble-scrambled directly to the page as if it were a stage LEGAL COPYRIGHT FOR THIS POEM/WORK AND ALSO FOR THIS WRITER MELISA A HOWELLS AND ALSO FOR THIS LEGALLY COPYRIGHTED SITE TITLE MELOO STRAIGHT FROM HER TILT-A-WORLD OCTOBER 5, 20177 11;39AM PST....... RE-EDITED NOVEMBER 6 2017 5;25AM PST DIFFERENT TIME*S)/FALLING BACK Vote for this poem |
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