Frank Poems: SAXOPOMES

saxophone

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I write as near to silence as I can get.

Selima Hill

In the beginning
God created the heavens. Earth?
The hardest bit last.

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In the beginning
Was the wordle, but wordle
Couldn’t be the word.

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La la la la la.
Why should the la la’s be last?
Let the la’s be first!

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So far, Century
21’s been anything
But exemplary.

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Rejoice and be glad!
For this poem is both short and
Comprehensible.

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A short poem a day
Keeps the temptation to write
Longer poems at bay.

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A haiku is ars
Brevis that aspires, like us,
To vita longa.

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You might not like this
But you cannot much dislike
Such short duration.

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No use listening
To roses. If they whisper,
No one’s ear knows it.

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Had it not been for
The Angles, we anglophones could play
At being saxophones.

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From piano-forte
To pianissimo, impro
Has it all to play.

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If you must harp on,
Harp on as an art, e.g.
Harp on on a harp.

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Greenwashing’s a way
To cloak catastrophe with
A clean conference.

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Leave the Moon alone!
Be content with fucking up
Planet Earth, our home.

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Will lyric poets still
Be writing lyric poetry
Come the apocalypse?

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No need to be koi.
Carpe diem, no matter
What your element.

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They say the word Love
Is overused. Whereas love,
My love, is under

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Rather depressing
Can be rather uplifting,
If you’re not depressed.

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Mini-minor good,
Better than any make of
Maxi-major bad.

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Only one way in,
One out. Amazinoutly
Labyroutinthine.

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A traffic cone sits
On the head of our hero.
Glasgow smiles better.

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Dropped capitals: fine
In monastic manuscripts,
Less so in short rhymes.

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Coventry’s three spires
Were seen from four sides, but now
Three fourths have expired.

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Now is the time for
All good men to step aside
For better women.

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Allotments are more
Than war on weeds: peace and love,
And lovage and peas.

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Double you double
You double you dot. World-wide.
Do make it worthwhile.

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Porridge is poetry
With whiskey butter. The proof
Is in the porridge.

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Here’s a little dream
Where you’re dreaming of a dream
You dreamed that you dreamt.

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At New Street Station
Last night, the ghost passed me by
Of the late last train.

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If you’re nice, the train
At Platform 5 will take you
Straight to Paradise.

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In the human race
Don’t run too fast. Jesus said
The first will be last.

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Trains and boats and planes,
Cars, bikes, buses and trams, and
Feet and legs to boot.

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Wait for the green man
And be patient with his twin.
Better red than dead.

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See Naples and die
Or see Little Eccleston-
With-Larbreck and live.

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If your choice were this –
Earthly or heavenly bliss – best
To sample each first.

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Red postbox, blue sky.
Push the envelope inside, but
Think outside the box.

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What’s not rocket science
But is now the new normal?
No brainer! Cliché.

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Escherlators are
Escalators that only
Seemingly escalate.

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Yellow, blue and red,
Thence orange, green and purple.
Black and white? Not quite.

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Mondrian disliked green,
But whether that was mutual
Remains to be seen.

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The Christian Alt-Right
Is the religion that’s right
For oxymorons.

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If you must be mis
Ogynist, you so must miss
Not having been born.

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Hey, Eponymous Joe,
You misogynistic sod!
Good tune; lyrics – no.

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Alas, Alaska!
Que será, à la Sarah,
Is baked Alaska.

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I fell out of love
With my pre-loved pullover,
So I post-loved it.

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Seventy-six and
Never been in a mosh pit.
Should I regret it?

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Brexit meant Brexit,
But, for Boris, I resign
Really meant Remain.

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David, Theresa,
Boris, Liz, Sunak. Alack!
Years we won’t get back.

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Will legislators
Who advocate a little state
Auto-evaporate?

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Your Royal Highnesses
And every aristocrat, pray
Be orf and don’t come back.

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A republic means
A country that’s made itself
Unmonarchable.

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The rich and powerful
Like it when we bow and scrape.
Don’t participate!

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Live life by profit
And loss. Lose your soul and let
Profit be your boss.

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Expensive perfumes
Containing hardly any scent
Make hardly any sense.

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Last night I dreamt of
Rebecca again, and tonight,
Reader, I’ve read it.

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They were the best times,
They were the worst times, even
Without genitives.

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A foreign country
Where they don’t do things the same?
That’d be the past.

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A wife is wanted
For a rich young bachelor.
Of that we’re all sure.

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April. Bright and cold.
The clocks were striking 13,
19, 84.

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Bugger all down here.
Let’s pray intelligent life is
Being clever up there.

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Turkeys, vote en masse
For Benjamin Zephaniah!
Don’t vote for Christmas.

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Humanity v
Humaneness: hopelessfully
Syninymical.

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One can never be
Too clever, except when one’s
Too clever by half.

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Cleverness is nice
But it’s not clever to be
Clever but not nice.

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Even the erudite
Can confuse what’s eruright
With what’s eruwrong.

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Initial ID
Isn’t the real entity
Of identity.

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Be true to yourself.
That is, if you remember
Which self is your self.

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Whether you travel
Near or far, it’s not easy
To arrive at who you are.

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Are you a glass half-full
Or glass completely empty
Sort of not-full glass?

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Look up on YouTube
Led by Donkeys and you’ll see
We’re led by donkeys.

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I remember that,
In the 1960s, I
Wasn’t really there.

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At seminary
I learnt being good’s better than
Belabouring God.

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A world religion
Is a cult that’s currently
Holy sectcessful.

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The dead don’t come back.
The living don’t want to leave.
Brexit’s total crap.

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Neznámý jazyk.
Krásný schovaný výhled.
Otevři okno.

Teanga iasachta.
Radharc an-álainn i bhfolach.
Oscail an fhuinneog.

Lingua estrangeira.
Vista linda não vista.
Abre a janela.

A foreign language.
A beautiful unseen view.
Open the window.

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Paz em três linguas.
Síocháin i dtrí theanga. Mír
Ve třech jazycích.

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Would you have others
Do unto you, sisters, brothers,
As you do unto them?

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Not knowing how to spell
His name didn’t diminish
William Shakspere’s fame.

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Perfectionism
Plus imperfectionism –
Hey! Humanism.

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I wandered lonely
As a cloud that floats on high
Over No Entry signs.

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Half of England owned
By one percent is serfdom
By any other name.

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Sod the effing bastards!
(Unpoetic language is fine
If kept to one line.)

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The fearless fighter
Goes down fighting. The writer,
Right to the full stop.

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Does Mandela Effect,
Mirror, mirror, on the wall,
Not affect you at all?

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Indefinite a
And most definitely the
Shouldn’t end like that.

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Please bring some apples
Up the pears, when coming down
The pears and apples.

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Being invisible
Shouldn’t mean you can’t be heard,
Just you can’t be

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As mighty oak trees grow
From little acorns, just so
Plant little poet trees.

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Always a better,
Always a worse, but never
A mediocrer.

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Be the bestest you are,
Not the worstest you’re not, and
RIP the rest.

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Pandemonium, pan,
Pandemic, saucepan, frying pan,
Panic, deadpan, pan.

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Did it all happen
By happenstance? Half the world
Ruled by psychopaths.

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How to put the world
Out of order: pander to
People like Putin.

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What’s so familiar
About the mass murderer
Adolmir Pitler?

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A prayer for Putin’s
May parade: May it rain, may
It rain, may it rain.

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Says Mr Putin,
Don’t be good. If I could be
More evil, I would.

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Which side butters best?
Patriarch K bets it’s better
On the side marked P.

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I’m coming for you,
Владимир Путин. My name
Is Fate. Как дела?

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Seven, eight, nine, ten,
Eleven. Evil bastards
Don’t go to heaven.

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Tories are revolt
Ing. Boris Johnson’s revolt
Ing. Why aren’t we re

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Political poems
Can be too polemical.
Peace is poetical.

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Poems won’t stop a war.
Perhaps that’s not what they’re for.
Here’s a curse instead.

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The Taliban ban
Women from doing what men can.
Ban the Taliban!

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Will the world survive
Is a fuss about nothing.
The problem is us.

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Things could be better
Elsewhere in the multiverse,
If not multiworse.

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A part of our world,
Our galaxy and universe.
Uniquely. You and me.

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Whilst waiting in line,
Synchronised jigging of hips
Might help pass the time.

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Précis: precisely
Saying what was said, but less
Not more. Precisely!

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This might have been like
What one would write, were one not
Sick of subjunctives.

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Is thought inferior
To not thinking? That’s something
One might think about.

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Money makes the world
Go round, whereupon the rich
Round it up, not down.

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If you’re somebody,
Seems you must marry someone
Who’s not nobody.

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Yeats keeps arising
And going, going but never gone
Along to Innisfree.

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Round about midnight
Is about the right time for
Midnight roundabouts.

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Woke up this morning,
Got them City blues. Two nil
Sutton United.

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A game of two halves:
Forty-five minutes followed
By the same again.

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Raynauld’s wouldn’t be
So-cold, if it weren’t he who
Discovered Raynauld’s.

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The extremely unctious
Shouldn’t be that much in need
Of extreme unction.

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Veritas vincit.
Vincit veritas. Looked at
Front or back, truth wins.

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Charity may be
The best of the three, but hope
Is the last to leave.

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Nudging native tongues
To linguacide’s a silent
Sort of genocide.

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The Land of the Free:
A euphemia where people
Get shot frequently.

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America, please
See common sense and amend
That mad amendment.

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RIP but, I
YWBSK,
RSVP, OK?

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Owning a joke shop
Is no laughing matter: it’s
The way they sell them.

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This has been written
By me, A.I. Sadly I can’t
Own my own copyright.

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If there is a god,
Let her, him, it or them be
Holy pronoun-free.

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Little Bo Peep’s sheep!
Lost! … Leave them alone! Wagging,
Tails have happy endings.

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Hey, Talking Black Sheep!
Got any wool? Yeah, three bags –
One each for three peeps.

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Higgle Piggle Hen
Lays lots of eggs, which I then
Sell to gentlemen.

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Hey diddle diddle,
Cat cow little dog fiddle.
Dish spoon skedaddle.

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Miss Muffet. Tuffet,
Curds, whey. Spider beside her!
Miss Muffet hopped it.

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Little Jack Horner,
Corner, Christmas pie, thumb, plum,
Self-praise. Rum-ti-tum.

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Humpty Dumpty. Wall.
Fall! King’s cavalry. First aid.
Alas! Too ovulate.

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Old lady swallowed
Fly spider bird cat dog goat
Cow horse. Dead? Of course.

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Grand Old Duke of York.
Ten thousand men. Marched up, down,
Up, down, neither… Clown.

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Down the woods today?
Surprise! There’s a picnic there
For teddy bears. Yay!

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Go n-éirí an bóthar
Leat, is go mbeadh do shaol lán
Le áthas agus craic.

May the road rise up
To meet you, and your life be full
Of Hibernian fun.

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A lesser grievance
Of old age, good grief! is pips
Stuck between your teeth.

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Two cups of cocoa
Coincidentally must be
A cocoincidence.

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When all’s said and done
And the battle’s lost and won,
Two 2s still aren’t five.

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After poetry, there’s
Doggerel, caterwaul and –
Begad! – bugger all.

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Live in the mo… Woops!
Live… Woops! … or just keep living
In the past… Perfect!

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Being in a hurry
We’ve no time to worry about
The endlessness of time.

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It’s good to talk, good
To be silent. Better still
To know what’s best when.

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Live life like a poem.
No matter how hard at times,
Try to make it rhyme.

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We’re living to die,
Which explains why we mostly
Spend life dying to live.

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The future presents
An enigma wrapped up in
A real-time riddle.

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Life is a struggle
Of Now versus Then, in which
Then is the winner. Amen.

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Metaphorical
And literal heartache. Not
Even simile.

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Though heart failure’s bad,
No way’s it half as bad as
Failure of the soul.

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I’m dead, I think, though
According to R Descartes,
Erm… therefore I aren’t.

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Humorous alive,
Perhaps post-humorously
Funny on the other side.

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Going down fast. Tell me,
Tell me, please tell me the answer,
Coz this time’s the last.

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When you’re feeling up
Side down, try to keep your feet
Firmly on the ceiling.

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What happened before
The beginning began, and
What, after the end ends?

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When we die, nothing?
Or something? Let’s compromise:
Something from nothing.

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Spring summer autumn
Winter. Birth adolescence
Adulthood death. Spring

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Et in saecula
Saeculorum orum or
Um orum. Amen.

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Horror without end
Is even worse than an end
With horror. The End.

saxophone

"House by the Railroad," Edward Hopper, 1925

20/02/2023

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