meloostraightfromhertilt-a-world

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Hope Is Sometimes The Best Of All You've Got (definition poem)

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When People Go

The Day You Left (Words From A Half-Remembered Dream)

Wake Wake Wake

It Is In The Rain

Dream Goblins Of The Night

Wake And Remember

Unwelcomed Like So Much Unfinished Business

In March (Finally, Spring 2016)

All For Algernon

Weak In The Knees

The Finisher's Song

Nothing's Sadder Than A Rose

All Beings Considered

This Is It

Max on the max

I Long For Stars

Falling Leaf, Falling Man/Woman, Rising Star

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

Its About Waking In The Middle Of The Night And Having To Write It All Down

Not For The Bloom of Tears Cultivated These Last 100 Years

If This Is Any Art For Which You Care

If I Could Be The Sky...

It Feels Better To Be Unfinished (Wish-Unspoken, But With My Eyes)

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Non Compos Mentis    (Blues)


Fine felt hat
you tried me on,
within your saw-tooth mouth
you made of me a song
of insolence
and spite.

I was all those things
of which you might,
but couldn't be
in the burning of the light.

Rum tum trigger happy, how you
make me a sober-simpering smile.
You've fooled the fools that I have been,
most of the while.

So...
Where'd I get that upside-downside
turned-around so-sideways grin?
Its a put on uncleanly with un-safety pins.

The world likes you
kept neat and clean in a mason jar
of saline anti-septic broth.
And if I live in it too long,
I begin to foam and froth.
So I've got to turn it over
or be eroded away.

Cuckoo-crazy isn't funny when
you're not thought of in this way.
And how is it you've been made to believe in
the cleverness they say you never were...
nor of the star who's shining bright inside of you.


Come crawl beneath and live between your skin.
Tell of the misfortune it feels like to be you.
How not to fit in.
And what is it to be a hidden
in some secret sin
not of your making.

I want to be set free
from your feeling of imposition.

I know what its like to lose.
Come visit me at my broken down place.
Its not so small here
that I can't accommodate you with space.
There is room for everyone
for
crazy fingers touch us one and all.


You can spend a few moments, you can pass your years.
I've reluctantly weighed anchor
here far for too long.
Its an uncomfortable comfort here.
Are you a visitor, or,
are you an impatient patient,
dear?
(Here's your placard. Take a seat.
Its been reserved. We all have a name
at the table of momentary insanity.)



LEGAL COPYRIGHT FOR THIS WORK BY THIS AUTHOR
FOR THIS SITE TITLE
Copyright January 16 2013
time stamped 10:11 am PST
All Rights Reserved by this Author
Melissa A Howells/Meloo /
Straight From Her tilt-a-world





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