here we go again

“Don’t you dare. Don’t you dare touch that switch.”
“Maybe this time we’ll not encounter
gales whose branches hint of barbarous roots.”
“Yeah yeah, so dreamed I in my
pinker years – trusted silk vows. Prepped anew
the bearings and gears. Trudged to the fuel pool
and anticipated the flowering forth

of my purpose; grew giddier
with each step closer to belching to life
my powers – stallion scratching dirt,
snorting fire, chewing coals
like carnival candies. Oh but what happened
– came to the river that runs deep and fast,
I tried to urge courage but brakes

were hit and unbelief blew in; whole system
shut down, system grown to parrot a town
– whatever it became – town
or system or machine – shut down.
Headlines blaring the paramount
damn near daily – made the editors work – tough
– toughened – all components and parties

quite sleek, functioning as one unstoppable
unit. Sure it’s a party but after about
forty parties, you know, what’s another party?”
“So we do not start again
just because you are weary
of parties? Maybe it’s mostly
because we’ve lazed longer

than usual between parties.
You forgot the smell of young perfume.”
“Well now haven’t we grown astute
over these idle months? Smell of young
perfume. Envisioning limber limbs
and leather straps pointing to paradise?
Guess it beats waiting for the trumpets.”

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About Timmy the Scribbler

Love to write all kinds of stuff I love writing so many different kinds of stuff it is a constant struggle to narrow the focus to a manageable handful and let the others go. But a few years ago I dipped my fingers into a poetry pie and of all my uncertainties, one thing that is no uncertainty is that it is one passion that must remain, so maybe that's the one. I do dearly delight in chopping up fictional works into stanzas and syllables.
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