CharlaXFabels 

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CharlaXFabels
 What makes a poet become a famous poet or write poems to line the bird cages of the rich and famous readers of the poems written in the day after day grind of a hard homeless life setting down his feelings writing all his heart? What makes a poem start? What makes a poet start a poem? What makes a poet poet? Where must we begin the heart the thoughts the mind become the man. A poet bleeds. A poem bleeds as a poet writes. A reader weeps as she reads the words in fright. Can he write all this and love me still and yet of course he does. A love. A living feeling of wonder and hope. She is the snow white purple dove. More than this eye will not add she it is who loves me knoes her ways today. Yet touching base to remember the young boy enthralled with stories poems were the sissy stuff of love and girls and laughter eye read the science fiction books back then that were so popular. And movies on the screen and television thing were always more than books to mee infact when eye started to receive the books from the Doublesay when place the third class deliveries kept me broke and begging older brother for the postage cod. The novel The Dirty Dozen was almost a real hard read the plot was taken from the movie so eye thought but the other way around was key. The determined that eye was to understand the book and then the movie was the stuff of poetry. There is education to be considered the formal kind with degrees and ribbons and diplomas. There is what most men call the OLD SCHOOL and the SCHOOL OF HARD KNOCKS. There is the street smart poet who reads more than he writes he loves to orate and fight. There is the turnabout prose maker who abandoned poetry at an early stage and made stories instead they seldom rhyme so he can call it prose poetry instead. There is the austere poet who only makes the standard forms the line after line of the sky is always blue in my life. The dog has never fleas the kids always never sneeze the garbage in the cans are never tossed about by strays the limits never surpassed by stranger there. For most of us the trespasses were very real admitted guilt notwithstanding there or here. The difference of meat and peanut butter pale and blend into indifference.  Charity is good eating wealth is transitory dearth the one day at a time syndrome works the best the given day equals the equations related at light speed the love inside me spills forth at odd mournings for ewe. He writes of real life stories they happen every day he tells the truth so often he even loves the way to say the rhymes of portent he makes some up in added glee he concocts a story fable not true at all but mere cartoony. He makes his poet then his story fable bleed. To them at AA that want a five year pin. May 13, 2004 is DDAY when eye did begin a life of sober mee. Next May then come see mee.


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