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The Inner String

The Hoping

Home, Ghuey, Sweet Home

Some Children Have Nightmares (tentative title)

Night Train


wandering the rolling hills ...(written for his model)

All The Changing....


Lonesome Love

two out of three people

A Start Again...(I Green-Dreamed Again Last Night)

The Little Bird Said

cat speech

Funny, Not Funny

All You Have To Do Is Breathe....


A Dog Should Have His Tail...

Enough to Clear The Clouds Away 4/13/2019

Checking Out


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

Last Night

Someone Send Out A Search Party

Crows...writing exercise in honor of April /National Poetry month


Only The Choice To Be

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

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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.

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
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,
(Here's your placard. Take a seat.
Its been reserved. We all have a name
at the table of momentary insanity.)

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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