meloostraightfromhertilt-a-world

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Your Next New Dying Black Swan

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Not For The Bloom of Tears Cultivated These Last 100 Years

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I WILL RETURN

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Within The Green Wind Becomes The Fall

Think On This--IF YOU WOULD

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Ghost Fox


in the dream
I have four white socked feet
with delicate black-painted toes
my coat is lustrous
dappled with radiant multi-hues
of the blazing sun

I slink into the edges
of the scenery
I am chicanery
I am sly-wise
but, I am hated
despised for who I am
though I don't know or care to know why
I am what I am
and I like me...

one very singular creature
no one quite like me
how my collective molecules
reek with what's unique
let them ridicule my natural nature

I will smile
and
I will eat grapes
I will gorge on chickens
sucking bloody marrow out of their fragile bones
just before it thickens
then devour a full clutch of their raw progeny
I am SO artful at Dodgery

it gives me glee

I see into their darkness
and then I flee
saying good-bye to all of their misunderstandings
and misinformed hatred of me

see how I run

scrambling away
with a satisfied sniff
leaving no trace but toe deep footprints
not even a whiff
of my artful presence  

the ghost fox
in white socks
the black masked marauder
and illustrious carmine colored thief
and happily-mad plotter
I am so well-pleased being me

I might never wake up.

date/time stamped May 1 2018/5:55pm PST
legal copyright for this poem
and also for this writer
Melissa A Howells
and also for this legally copyrighted site title
Meloo Straight From Her Tilt-a-World





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