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Home, Ghuey, Sweet Home

All Beings Considered

I Long For Stars

The Best Revenge (For All Your Critic's Critiques)

Your Next New Dying Black Swan

The Dreaming Life ( A Series Of Dream Vignettes)

Nothing's Sadder Than A Rose

Not For The Bloom of Tears Cultivated These Last 100 Years

All Too Clearly Now

If This Is Any Art For Which You Care

Informed Through Pain

Sometimes In Losing I Have Gained A Lot

A Man Of The Clouds

The Birds Are Such Un-numbering Creatures of Distant Hitchcockian Past



Didn't You Learn That First Lesson In Kindergarten?

They Grew (A Poem From The Imaginarium)

Cuba Libre


Max on the max

The Little Bird Said

The Factory of Resentments

When My Blues Are Gone

Expect Yourself



Silver-Tongued Devil

Within The Green Wind Becomes The Fall

Think On This--IF YOU WOULD

Open Lines

You Got Your Lilly Back

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I'm having a hard time
feeling grateful.
Not keeping it real.
Or is it in reality?
Too painful
not knowing who's for me
who's against.
And guessing at the monster
that is in between.

The one who's not quite as they seem.
They flash their vibrant colors.
Am I growing color blind?
The monsters simply shape and shift.
Adapting to the emotional climate.

Adults learn to be chameleons.
Children deal in absolutes.
Lies and their metaphors adapt and
change even more quickly.
Trust me. Trust them. Trust myself.
"Who?" I asked.

Nothing or no one answered.
Nothing being a sordid forever.
Except eternity and damnation.
Where is the salvation?

In the sky?
In the earth?

Copyright June 22, 2013 All Rights
Reserved By this Author.

Melissa A. Howells Meloo /Tilt-a-World
Straight from the Blue Menu

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