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If Prejudice Were Dumb And Could Not Speak

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Later Hours

I keep later hours.
I like to reside in the
quiet theater of my mind.
Less noise
less people
less static
less need to be
so refined.
Its nice to nestle into
the dark.
I have a permanent place there.
Its mine whenever there is a spark
of beauty or the nudge of something that
just won't recede.
We, the thoughts of mine and me,
keep late night company.
And we are fine.
So much better than you'd think.
Not minding that we should be in bed
with the ordinariness of catching 40 winks.
We've agreed to venture into the venture
of digging into the cranial archives for awhile.
Me and my imagination
have our own schedules, a singular style.
And so what if we rhyme only when we want.
And defy convention and over-sprinkle content
or taunt
after all, its someone else's missed perceptions,
not our own.
We know ourselves better and better.
Let others satisfy themselves by chewing barest bones.
And later hours
suit the palate
we muster all the luster we can
polish, we can hone.

Copyright February 5, 2013  All Rights are Reserved by THIS Author
Melissa A Howells  Meloo from her Tilt-a-World

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