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did you do you
get what you expect or expected i eat my food and drink cold because i am impatient because i do not expect to eat nor to be quenched that is my past experience one not asked for someone wrote in a novel that fairness is a concept for the weak (or of the week---think on that?!) then what of justice and what of equality and what of the laws of the land and what of the contents of the character of those who would be the "meters" those who dele in deals and would be the ones who mete it all out whilst we swallow open big and wide are they the opposite of we the weak or are the power hungry those who would walk in the big shoes and who lie and tread on cat feet who walk while i lie alone in my bed as if there is no god so thee is no fairness and caprice and the worst of men and man rules all of the night and day is a thin blue -blooded line is that thhe thread which catches and fails...the pulled seam which I/we ought to rely on its pull and its inevitability random and unfair or is that too much a frail-minded frill of the weak like a/my belief in fairness inevitability being another flimsy thread in the veil of veils we all live in our randomness of life in my randomness i would chose and crave happiness and i would want it for others as dandy-lions are not weeds but not-things...actual beings who'd desire and wish to grow and thrive and not be cut down for plants and all creatures have secret desiring lives is that you have not asked me about the coldness of what i eat and drink the cries i cry the book which those who decide is random and willful unfairness and then they you all have asked me do you cry often why do you cry why do you leak and i would answer because i am whole oh so whole and i ask of my life a totalness of all i am and strive to be the definitions which are changeable but are unordered by my hunger and pain my love and bliss and sorrow and my true-learned and un-learned knowledge hoary horny conjugalness with the element i would name GREAT JOY if there is one life i chose to live it i am my own Mona Lisa who existed in her own sphere before Leonardo she who will not be blotted out who will be not canceled nor made invisible if this is too much for those ghosts of you of my past who would say to me you are too much, you feel too much to this and that of everything i would say this dear moaning souls is what life is and i have not yet had nor am i ready to close down the banquet of my heart i would like to share what is at my table the paltriness of it and the poorness if that is what i have if that be the label the poor are the most generous and large of heart they will give you their everything if you are in need they see and understand you at times to the leaving of nothing for themselves i am never-weak there's no weakness in crying nor in believing fairness ought to be the form of the universe for all you know my heart's address you've read my manifesto there will be more lines written yet my door is open for you to call... knock and I might answer for each of us in our flaws and failures as well as our small triumphs is extraordinarly beautiful and transformed. LEGAL COPYRIGHT FOR THIS RANT/POEM/ WRITTEN 7PM PACIFIC STANDARD TIME DIRECTLY TO THE PAGE ON JANUARY 2, 2022. AND ALSO FOR THIS RANTER WRITER POET AUTHOR OUTLANDISHIST MELISSA A. HOWELLS AND ALSO FOR THIS LEGALLY COPYRIGHTED AND REGISTERED SITE TITLE...MELOO STRAIGHT FROM HER TILT-A-WORLD THE WORLD IS NOT A SOFT BLUE MENU Vote for this poem |
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