The Edge


Original DDE™ surrealistic art entitled “The Edge” by: rob kistner © 8/15/24

 
Standing at the edge
feeling far below
the great tides

the ebb and flow
the rise and fall

the come and go of centuries
of millenniums
wave by wave
day by day
as it has always been

this might incarnate
this power of indifference
this surge of perfect apathy

and I
as insignificant as the grain of sand
bounced and tumbled
dragged helpless in the undertow

a great froth crested wave
rises up in beckon
the silk of azure blue
draped smoothly down its sloping back
as it dances on the deep

how easy I could slip
into that fathomed realm

down
down
ever down
into the waiting silence
without so much a noticed sound
quiet as a breaking heart

absorbed into the churn and roar
without so much a ripple
to disturb the steady surf

a subtle crease
irrelevant
erased
even as it came

*

rob kistner © 2011
originally linked at Magpie Tales

rob kistner © 2024

More poetry at: dVerse

 

Dark Love

WARNING! This is dark!


Original DDE™ surrealistic art: “Love’s Sin” by: rob kistner © 11/16/23

 

D o you think
you’re not still my slave
since digging yourself
from that earthen grave

since you sullied
your delicate hands
clawing up and out
of my bottom lands

do you think
you’re safe

think perhaps
that I don’t know
where you are
as you come and go

do you think
that I don’t feel you
with my every breath
that I don’t breathe you

do you not understand
that I hold your life
in my clenching hand

really – don’t you

do you think at all
foolish girl

anytime I want you
you are mine

anytime

you know I love you
you love me too
with a love uncommon
you know you do

don’t you

you are mine
it’s true

forever

you are not free
your every move
is known to me
your every thought
is mine to see
your every fear
mine to trigger

feel your terror
as it’s growing bigger


Original DDE™ surrealistic art: “Dark Love”
by: rob kistner © 11/16/23

I watch you walking
every dark late night
while I hide under
my dim street light

you will not know
whence I may come
I am the shadow
you are running from

the stranger hidden
across the street
the sudden sound
that startles you
from your sleep

so cling mindlessly
to your false hope
as ‘round your slender neck
my fingers grope

you think I’m mad
well that may be
but that’s too bad
for you
not me

you pray
they catch me
we’ll see
won’t we

your nightmare is
I’ll not be caught

well
that dream’s come true
for I will naught


Original DDE™ surrealistic art: “Dark Love’s Captive”
by: rob kistner © 11/16/23

you hope I make
a big mistake
dare a close call
risk my downfall

foolish girl
there is no risk

for I am brilliant
wicked cunning
you’ve felt my power
is it not stunning

does my magnificence
make you afraid
as staring in my eyes
you feel resistance fade

you will not see me
in the cold dark rain
but you feel me squirming
in your troubled brain

as I’m creeping quiet
from behind
to steal your mortal life
as I am so inclined
as terror shivers
up and down
your spine
remember always

you — are — mine


Original DDE™ surrealistic art: “Devil In A Downpour”
by: rob kistner © 11/16/23

*
rob kistner © 2021
edited rewrite © 2023

Poetry at: dVerse

 





Pepper’d Memories

 

Yes — I was the walrus
so too the fool on the hill
I was the nowhere man
sometime I feel nowhere still

but when the Fab4 took the stage
and raised their voice in song
they roused my golden slumber
my spirit sang along

I strolled to strawberry fields
along sweet penny lane
and when miss Rigby died
I felt McKenzie’s pain

stowed in the submarine
and sailed beneath the waves
down with the octopus
among the coral caves

and when the sergeant
struck up his lonely hearts club band
I fell in step by step
to march off to Pepperland

but before I’d hit the road
I ended up wounded in my bed
a delinquent name of Maxwell
took a hammer to my head

he’d come through the bathroom window
I forgot to shut it tight
I should have known better
but it’d been a hard day’s night

my friends had called for help
doctor Robert came in time
I’d said doc don’t let down
he did not — and I feel fine

cops searched helter skelter
looked here there and everywhere
but they found clues for no one
I said let it be I didn’t care

leaving home, you won’t see me
I said heading out the door
when I saw her standing there
my lover from the night before

oh darling let’s go day trippin’
I want to hold your hand
down this long and winding road
it won’t be long to Pepperland

now we’ve come together here
me and my sweet belle Michelle
she’s been writing paperback novels
the kind the drugstores sell

we have no plans to get back
we’re swept up in the allure
of Lucy and her diamond skies
on our magical mystery tour

even with George and Johnny dead
that old magic’s not yet slipped away
because old Paully‘s discovered AI
so a brand new tune is on the way

it will be so very cool
to hear them once again
to remember those wondrous days
get to relive them now and then

*
rob kistner © 4/5/11
expanded version: rob kistner © 6/13/23

Poetry at: dVerse

 


https://youtu.be/oz3JlMhgfq0

Love’s Summer Serenade / Seaside

These first written & published for NaPoWriMo 2010

 
Love’s Summer Serenade

sing to me my sweet sweet lover
songs as soft as silk and satin
sensual as a bare embrace
warm summer sun upon our face

promise me the world is ours
that this perfect moment’s endless
lift me up on rapture’s cloud
my racing heart is pounding loud

make melody set sail our souls
fill our hearts with passion’s fire
smother me in scorched sweet kisses
oh what a fiery bliss this is

come to me and take me timeless
sweep me off to ecstasy
enfold me in your deepest dreams
simmering under summer moonbeams

so hot we’re looking for some shade
aflame in love’s sensual serenade

*

 
Seaside

soft sand warms bare toes

senses stirred by surging surf

summer at seaside

love as fresh as ocean breeze

kisses hot as sizz’ling sun

*
rob kistner © 2010
revised © 2023

More poetry at: dVerse

 




SunsetGunn

NOTE — I borrowed lines and inspiration from my 2011 poem: Skye Fyre
 

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The SunsetGunn is loaded, the controls, in GunnMaster’s grip
calmly concentrating, he scans the horizon with careful eyes
the golden sun having made his journey, is weary from the trip
quicksilver moon will very soon, traverse the starry skies

Gaia rolls on gently, hushed in quiet space
GunnMaster has her skyline, locked squarely in his sight
Gaia pulls a veil of stars, slowly across her face
GunnMaster has a task, he needs complete before its night

he’s to set the sky ablaze, before he falls to sleep
a fiery coral-orange, twilight-blue, and crimson-red
in patterns broad and bold, in colors rich and deep
he carefully aims the SunsetGunn, and blasts it overhead

in a brilliant, blinding flash, he sets the dimming skies a’fire
in vivid hues, and lavish shades — the dusky sky ignites and burns
GunnMaster has succeeded, so for this night, he can retire
the SunriseGunn already loaded, in early morning, he returns

IMG_8599

*
rob kistner © 2023

Poetry at: dVerse

 



A few more from Animal Logic — GOOD SHIT!



Castle Walachia

~ I originally published this October of 2018, again Oct. 2019, now Oct. 2022. ~
Happy Halloween

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This castle is most ominous
since becoming Voivode of Wallachia
Vlad II has not followed his father’s example
no joy and celebration reverberates
through the greattooms, hallways, and towers
of this venerable old structure

it has become dark and foreboding
and rumored dangerous
even deadly

but I know they are not just rumors
there is a murderous evil dwells here
undead and otherworldly
bloodthirsty and cruel
a ruthless predator
whom I have come to slay

I must move quickly from this light
that pools incrementally
in this long
pungent
segmented hallway

there is some safety in the shadows
that linger tight
to the arch walls
so I bolt
through the full moon’s glow
that seeps silvered through the windows

I press myself
against the damp irregular surfaces
that are the stacked-stone
boundary breaks
of this eerie chiseled passage

I pause at each
listening
casting glances all ’round

this monster moves like a vapor
so what I can see
is far more important
than what I can hear
but still
I listen

this demon has servants
soul sworn to loyalty
that must move on foot
their approach I could hear
so fully alert
I employ all my senses
in my critical vigilence

stealthily I move
from archway to archway
until I reach the last

I halt
E3610F00-F899-4D98-B180-D31F9E59E23E
relaxing the tension
in my right hand
I carefuly open my fingers
very slightly
to close them tight again
feeling the smooth wooden shaft
of the stake I have carved
securely in my grasp

this is the weapon I’ll wield
to bring and end
to the ungodly bloodlust
of this ghastly creature
the good people here call
Dracula

as I stand here
back to the dampened wall
relief seasons my trepidation

nothing in my being
wants this dire mission
to which I am shackled

but it is only my hand
on the carved wood dagger
tightly in my sweating grip
that can bring an end
to my uncle’s unholy
reign of horror

I am the youngest male
of our cursed bloodline
so the brutal deed
falls to me

creeping ever forward
like a shade on the dank wall
I move cautiously closer
to the iron-laden
dense wood door
of his sleeping chamber

my heart pounding
my diaphram starved for breath
I feel I may pass out

but still I pursue
the evil incarnate
that lies coffin’d
in undead repose

suddenly
a noise
immediately behind me

it echoes through these catacombs
pierces my taut raw nerves
and instantly paralyzes me

trembling
I turn

no one there

hushed
I listen intently

no other sounds
save the blood
pulsing as a roar
in my ears

I begin to move
but again
I hear it

panicked
I jerk my head around
and see

in this frozen moment
my stressed mind deduces
the source of the noise

moisture
collecting on the stone ceiling
gathers overhead
into sagging condensation

it released
as a weighty droplet
splattering on the floor
just behind me
with a sharp startling slap

I relax a bit
enough to again draw
tensioned breath

several more labored
careful steps
and I place my hand
gently on the wrought handle
of the immense door

confirming the lethal dagger
quivering in my right hand
I reach
steadily as possible
into my pocket
and withdraw a strange key
I have secreted there
that allows me access
to his chamber

it is unnaturally heavy
and seems to emanate
an unearthly energy

I clutch it firmly
fearing if I lose my grip
I will lose my nerve

I guide the key
into the slot
of the ornate handle plate
seating it fully

slowly I begin to turn it

I feel the resistance
as the key’s teeth
engage with the bolt
and begin to grudgingly
draw it from its secure well

just before I have fully retracted it
I pause
my mind racing
blood pressure soaring
overcome by the magnitude
of what I am about to do

no turning back now
this must be done
and I must do it
but I am terrified

still I hesitate
attempting to gain
my much needed composure

I slow my heartbeat
steady my breathing
steel my resolve
and turn the key
its final quarter inch

the lock clicks
the handle releases
and the door unseats inwardly

this is it
fate has dealt the deck
I am both prisoner
and executioner
in this horrible game

I swing the door open
ever so gradually
eyes rapidly scanning
this vampire lair

and step in

this fate
my destiny


Vlad the Impaler – Dracula

*
rob kistner © 2018
revised © 2019
republished © 2022

Poetry at: dVerse

 


Northwest Autumn

It is three weeks until Autumn Equinox 2022. I first wrote and published this piece in 2008, significantly revised it in 2018, sharing it again on dVerse in response to a wonderful prompt by Amaya Engleking. I now have further refined it in small ways, and choose to share it again here in 2022. Much has changed in the 14 years since I first wrote this, but not my love for the Pacific Northwest, and most especially — Oregon. It is in the light of this abiding love, that I now share this piece once more here on dVerse, for OLN, September 1st, 2022. Peace!

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Autumn is upon us, as we enter our season of nature’s rest and replenishment here in the Pacific Northwest. The cycle of renewal will begin in western Oregon, where I lived for 25 years. I moved in 2015 to Seattle to be near my young grandson. Still immersed in Pacific Northwest beauty here, but Oregon will always hold my heart.

The summer’s dry period has ended, and agricultural irrigation has ceased. Harvesting explodes in October into November, including the grape harvest in our many vineyards. Following the gathering of this autumn bounty, the soil is left to recover. The fruit and nut trees, the vines in the vineyards, and the crop fields will begin the slow period of winter revitalization, in anticipation of the growing seasons to come in the new year. The Great Mandala of life turns steady. The rains that begin sporadically in late October, increasing into November, will work their magic — plumping Oregon’s world-class Christmas tree and holly crops, renewing the sparkle of these holiday icons, readying them for harvest.

Wild nature will also enter a period of recovery and renewal. The flowering plants that have dropped their petals, and the grasses and brush, gone late-summer golden, seek these nurturing rains. Mighty evergreens pause, conifers drop their cones, and deciduous trees shed their leaves all go dormant, and rest. The vast Northwest forests are enriched by this period of rejuvenation.

Streams, whose water levels have dropped considerably, will come to new life when rains begin to replenish their flow. Sockeye and Chinook salmon start their run upstream to begin their spawn. Rainbow, Brook, German Brown, and Cutthroat Trout, as well as numerous other species become active as waters rise and cool. Bear, deer, cougar, elk, coyote, big horn sheep, pronghorn antelope, hawk, osprey, eagle; the varied and plentiful wildlife of our region begin preparation for their unique winter rituals.

Autumn nudges into winter, a peaceful time of rest and restoration here in this breathtakingly beautiful region. A regenerative calm lies upon the lush land, as the season of sky-water arrives to quench nature’s thirst, and revivify her energies in this utopia.

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Just as the gardener
nurtures her tend
bending close
to nourish
and protect

so too nature stoops
to embrace
and refresh
her pacific northwest paradise

her autumn shadow upon the land
she leans down
and lets flow life-giving waters
to enrich this lush realm

she covers her beloved eden
in a soft blanket
of moist cloud

a shelter from chilled winter
to insure a rich bounty
when spring returns

abundant fruits
vegetables
and nuts

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hill-climbing vineyards

towering trees
too numerous to imagine

endless grasses
bushes
berries
and flowers

all will be spring succulent
from buildiing winter waters

mountain streams
valley rivers
swell with migrating fish

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as they journey home
up these fresh waters
of new birth

birds and animals
flock and gather
embraced by this season
of quiet replenish

in balanced step
and close harmony
with this cycle
they too
will welcome next spring
with plentiful new life

a sustaining love
this affair

life
nurtured to flourish
in the eventual spring

18EC9DB3-5C36-460D-97F4-9B63007C92BF
 
*

published: rob kistner © 2008
revised: rob kistner © 2018
final revision: rob kistner © 2022

* More poetry at: dVerse

photos (top to bottom):

  • Autumn at Multnomah Falls, Oregon
  • Oregon Autumn rain on conifer needles
  • Autumn at Sokol Blosser Vineyards, Willamette Valley Oregon
  • Sockeye salmon, Deschutes River, Oregon
  • Autumn Cascade Mountain Lake, Oregon
  • Spellbound

    poet
    you are enigma

    darkness and shadow
    you veil and shroud

    fire and light
    you burn and incandesce

    torch my essence
    burn deep my soul
    trouble my spirit
    unsettle my being

    then poet
    ignite my wonder

    whet my seeker’s vessel
    with need
    to be filled full

    poet
    at once familiar
    yet
    exotically foreign
    wonderfully strange

    wrongly boxed but
    exquisitely wrapped

    in angst
    indignation
    longing
    discovery
    loss

    in love

    with all these
    and infinitely more
    you reach an empty place
    deep within

    echoing my past
    awakening my myths

    exposing
    that which I embrace
    in the moment
    as truth

    refocus me

    stirring my pain
    my anger
    my loneliness

    my hope

    offering just enough answer
    that I combust with question
    sacred uncertainty

    I’m held
    suspended in inquiry
    in memories of neverwas

    enrapt by your careful words
    transfixed by mystery
    elevated by insight
    impaled by vision

    spellbound

    Flying Backwards


     

    H ey look
    look up here
    I’m flying backwards

    backwards
    and upside down

    soaring over the earth
    over your cars
    over your blurred human haste

    look how fast I am
    and invisible

    I see you
    though you can’t see
    me

    wonder where you’re going
    going in your big hurry

    somewhere
    anywhere

    nowhere

    are you running away
    too

    I wonder
    what are you thinking

    how many of you are sad
    how many happy
    how many mad
    bored
    lonely

    how many of you
    are frightened

    frightened
    and hurting
    how many of you are hurting

    how many scared
    broken hearts
    am I racing above
    right now
    on your road
    to nowhere

    if you were fast as me
    flying here upside down
    and backwards
    you could outrun
    those broken hearts
    those hurtful words
    the mindless abuse
    your fear

    you could do it too
    I bet you could
    right now

    I bet you could
    too
    just like I am
    if you were fast
    and invisible
    like me

    like I am
    now

    *
    rob kistner © 2021

    See other responses to this photo: Mindlovemisery

     


    Bridge of Truth

    The music is a key element of my expression here…

    FE6468E4-DB21-4AC2-AE47-A151350888DD

     

    P ossessed of all it is I am
    I sigh a sigh of longing
    I feel empty sad and very old
    I seek to fill my barren soul

    ~across the bridge of truth~

    I seek not a kingly right
    nor scepter gold to rule a realm
    worldly wealth I do not need
    love’s enlightenment I seek

     

    IMG_8645

     
    *
    rob kistner © 2021

    Poetry at: dVerse

     



    https://youtu.be/cpPSBzGEklE

    ~ A live bonus from Pauly! ~

    To Us


    To all d’Verse poets — Salùte!

     
    L et us drink deep
    this wine of friendship
    ripened well with time
    aged to a vintage true

    may this nectar rare
    sweeten all our days
    may its heady warmth
    linger long and lush
    lighten life’s burdens
    and ever lift our spirits

    here’s to us!

    rob kistner © 2021

    More poetry at: dVerse


     

    Seductive Fantasy


    …a stream of consciousness trip…

     

    Soaring psychedelic
    colors pierce my eyes
    to bleed into my mind
    pulsing into shapes
    and melting forms
    dancingly irregular
    a brilliant cacophony
    of fully beautiful discord
    that flows in time displacement
    blared breathing blending abstract

    wow dude!
    ~~ drifting drifting ~~

    so wondrous and magical
    as to create a dreamspace
    where reality steps away
    to a seductive fantasy
    that roils and broils
    a seething serenade
    of sounds and vision
    a sanctified vibration

    simply too gone!
    immaculate!

    joyful noise’d orblets
    flaring and flashing
    in hues and shades
    in timbre’d cadences
    they spark stiletto sharp
    stabbing staccato’d stealthy
    and again colors pierce my eyes
    lovely rumblings fill full my ears
    shifting spinning and floating
    to journey a’new through
    my beautiful bountiful
    and utterly blown
    mind garden

    }|=|{

    psssst! hey! you!
    am I conscious man —
    — or halluuucinating truuuth?

    rob kistner © 2021

    Day 1 poetry at: NaPoWriMo 2021


    Folding Together

    My daughter and son surprised, I should say shocked me yesterday, revealing the name and photo of my actual birth father — and the name of my birth mother. This information was unknown to me for 74 years. In fact, I was unaware my kids were genealogy mining. I was stunned to look at the picture my son showed me of a man, heretofore unknown to me, and quite clearly and eerily see “myself” — and the unmistakable faces of my son and daughter. Joseph Lawrence Perrmann and Evelyn Tieke — my birth father and mother. I was utterly floored. Using De’s prompt, I’ve created an imagined romantic scenario of that day they met, and I was conceived as a post WWII bastard — later to be placed in a “sealed” adoption.


     
    she is as bright as sunshine
    and as beautiful as a summer day

    what a most unususl place
    to find such beauty
    he muses to himself
    as he paints her fondly
    with his admiring eyes

    “come here often miss”
    he rolls off his lips
    with a slow sly smile

    “only when my laundry’s dirty”
    she smiles back
    with a perky snap

    “what brought you in mister”
    she banters jokingly

    “like you, dirty laundry”
    he emphasizes dirty

    “you got a big load there”
    she observes coyly
    with a lingered downward glance

    “you got a nice full basket too”
    drawing ‘nice’ to a sly sssizzle
    “what’s your name”
    he asks, seductively

    “Evelyn, what’s yours”
    she flirts back

    “Joe, but friends call me JL
    you can just call me
    whatever feels good to you, Evelyn”
    he offers with an inviting smile
    “can I call you Eve”

    “sure, Eve is nice
    what’s the L for, Joe”

    “Lawrence — Joseph Lawrence Perrmann
    purr, you know — like a cat”

    “I’m Eve, Eve Tieke
    you know, like the wood”
    she says
    “wa d’ya do JL,
    rather, Joe”
    she teasingly purrs

    “I’m now a cop,
    was Navy shore patrol,
    I’m just back from war”

    “where’s your gun officer”
    she coaxs

    “I keep it holstered
    until I need t’use it”
    he warns mockingly

    “is it a big gun, Joe”
    feigning wonder

    “it’ll do the job Eve
    you like guns”

    “not usually
    but I bet yours is nice”
    she says breathily

    they continued chatting
    and flirting
    while they laundered
    growing more interested
    and mutually attracted

    just then
    buzzzzz

    “well, laundry’s dry Eve
    wanna help each other fold”

    she looks around
    “these tables are awfully small”
    she replies encouragingly
    “I live just around the block Joe
    and I have the perfect table”

    “great Eve, let’s go there
    and fold together
    — how does that sound”
    he asks suggestively

    “purr-fect, Joe
    I would love to fold with you”
    she says directly into his eyes

    “OK,
    then let’s go
    show me the way Eve”

    they pause
    their imaginations fully engaged
    smiling deeply into each others eyes

    “OK” Eve says warmly
    body language relaxed
    eyes willing

    then JL turns
    grabs both baskets
    full of their warm laundry
    and out the door they go

    together

    and into my history


    rob kistner © 2021

    Poetry at: dVerse

    Frozen Man

    Vote = Voice — Speak Up! 2CC45105-E580-4197-9120-35D724A74CF8

    Voting HELP: CLICK HERE

     


    line art: “Frozen Man” — rob kistner © 2008

     

    Stopping Is No Option

    ~

    — QUADRILLE —

    Stopping is no option

    giving up
    is giving in
    grip letting go of dreams

    frozen is the frightened man
    withered in a worried cage

    happy is a voting man
    a hero heard and heeded

    stopping is no option
    for the times
    they are a’changin’

    rob kistner © 2020

    ~ ~

    — COMPLETE VERSION —

    * Watch me read Frozen Man complete version: CLICK HERE

    Stopping is no option

    to lose the way is to keep going
    keep moving forward
    lest one atrophies
    rigid with despair
    paralyzed with doubt
    locked in hopelessness
    bound by fear

    the giving up
    is the giving in
    is the rot that sets
    with the loss of wonder
    when grip lets go of dreams

    loss of faith debilitates the soul
    cripples the manifest light
    that shines so bright
    at the leap into sacred uncertainty
    so bright
    as to boldly illuminate truth

    frozen is the frightened man
    withered in a worried cage

    terrified of the wrong step
    of the journey all in
    of daring the way unmarked

    wounded by fear
    bleeding out the color of life
    hemorrhaging joy
    exsanguinating possibility

    a cold brittled husk
    mired in regret
    for never having shone so brightly
    as to blind the eyes of death
    as to light the way of truth

    valiant is a voting man
    a hero heard and heeded
    a cry of dissatisfaction
    a voice of change
    a stand for defiance

    stopping is no option

    so senators and congressmen
    you best heed the call
    don’t stand in the doorway
    don’t block up the hall
    for they that will lose
    will be they who have stalled

    so brothers and sisters
    raise up your hand
    let it be known
    throughout the land
    if we want change
    we must take a stand

    NO
    stopping is no option

    for the times
    they are a-changin’

    ~ ~ ~

    rob kistner © 2008
    revision © 2020

     

    https://youtu.be/wZ9drv78dCQ
     

    NOTE: To read more about folly: CLICK HERE

    Day Breaker

    “stream-of-consciousness rant”

    2D8B7CF5-E893-4B4B-B175-EFCFFD9F6BDD
    ”Drinkin’ Thinkin’” by: rob kistner © 1997

     
    DayBreaker

    (hard-drinkin’, jazz-lovin’, workin’ man’s lament)
    ~

    day breaks
    on
    a new week’s
    sun

    putrid
    as the stains
    on my
    flesh-soaked
    mattress

    damp
    as my sour
    mat
    of fevered
    greasy
    tangle

    hot
    as my
    whiskey-foul
    breath

    another
    un-commuted
    sentence

    6A-6P
    ’til
    merciful dusk
    delivers me

    jack-knifed
    into
    my
    jack and coke

    don’t obsess
    in sorrow

    drown
    all
    ‘da-way
    down

    a bottom-dive
    to comatose

    no virtue
    feigned
    nor
    implied

    mad goes
    the struggle
    ‘til
    saved by
    jazz
    48 over
    ‘da
    dub-ya
    hump

    2
    debauched
    24’s
    then
    the hissing
    sting
    of monday
    and
    the mindless
    6-6 grind
    120 n’out

    cruel numbers
    game
    goes
    round round
    and ever round
    ’til
    the tombstone’s
    tender
    solace

    ~ ~ ~

    rob kistner © 2019

     

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