Our Times

ourtimes

Outlandish ponderous propositions,
From a red lady championing sordid lies,
Words imitating superstitions,
From behind deeply dead ocean blue eyes.

But what is to be said to such trappings,
Of voices in deceptive overtones,
Guised in rose petals and thorny wrappings,
To swim in shallows or the deep with stones.

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Messages In Flight

The cold winds of change leave nothing to spare,

As skin prickles and the sun bows farewell,

A force awakens and all are aware,

Of how life will turn on this carousel.

The luscious grass passes and goes to seed,

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Awaiting Dawn

Awaiting night to begin,

Saying a moot Hail Mary,

Falling deeper into sin –

Escape the ordinary.

Fearing the volcanic skies,

The crescent moon swiftly wanes;

Mankind’s chorus slowly dies,

But the raven’s cry remains.

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