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Sunday, May 4, 2008


Another start, will revisit it later...

A telephone rings crisply
echoing down a concrete hall
trembling hands, devoid of character,
reach for the reciever.
All teachings of new age calm
are abandoned with his whispered
and cracked hello.

A voice without emotion, yet
strangely human, relays an image
through pristine technical terms,
facts pierce his father's heart as
they request to torture his eyes
in the pursuit of an identification.

Angels tears beat upon his chevy's
windshield as memories of a simpler time
surface in a flood of accusation, if only.
The clouds of despair part for an instant
as a troubled soul enters a world of clinical
white, a blast from the past.

A sweet sixteen soul beat down by
the modern age, electronic friends
and no love to be found, you were in
or you were out, gathering the dust
of a rebel spirit that tried too hard.

His hands reached forward to feel
her silky midnight hair, remembering
when it had been harvest gold and
as he nodded to the questions,
tears of an outkasted kind hesitantly
make their way down his face,
melting the mask of modern society.

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