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almost the scent of autumn in the air
a gentle breeze ran fingers through
each tress of hair that ghost-like rose to kiss
the promise of the bliss of cooler days to come
almost believing, almost
until the blistering sun
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it’s time!

hidden neros fiddle while they
pull their puppets’ strings
raking in the trillions while we
pay for everything
wars to kill the poor among us
young and old we bleed
not for glory, same old story
poverty for greed.
rome is burning, still they haven’t learned
from days gone by
staging false flags to enrage us
murder’s alibi
they are few, tho we are many
anytime we stand
jackboot military-like police
at their command
television spews revisionist
agendas views
fear and other opiates to dope us
nightly news
masses that might kick their asses
poison kool-aid drink
passion gone they don their yokes
forgetting how to think.
blazing haze of rhetoric they
raise another war
but what if we woke up en masse
asked what we’re fighting for
sloughed the shackles off our minds
refused to play along
would their castles keep suffice
to stand against the throng?
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I gather my thoughts
while dew gathers in sun
sharing a moment
of infinite now ~

basking in ponders
that too soon surrender,
like as the dewdrops that vanish

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The vase

Never far from reach I keep
a shattered crystal vase
its jagged edge reminding me
of things best left behind ~
of what once was.

but I shall wield it
like a knife,
the weapon in its flaws
to ward off further robbery,
vouchsafe the fading memories
I keep ~ of what once was

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like wound half-hidden by the gauze ~
the thoughts that plague my mind
unkindnesses of ravens seem,
because ~
unlikely healing come, at least
enough to form a scar.
just ebon nightmares soaring through
the holes they leave
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morning, but nothing…

Van Gogh clouds in a Monet sky,
Giger creatures drifting by
Looking down on me.
Bamboo thoughts filling moonscape mind,
unforgotten dreams unwind;
Nothing here to see.

Hiding in the brushstroke grey,
As I listen to the nothing to say
Taunt me to seek them out
Somewhere between hope and doubt.
But I
Know better than to play their game
Cuz everything will stay the same.
So I just sit as tho
A bas relief I told you so.

Dali start to a Rockwell day,
Nothing sudden along the way
Inspiring me.
Mozart soul in a Ke$ha world
Surrealistic wings still furled
Not flying free.

Idles in the “nothing new”,
Keeping visions from coming true,
Pokes fun at those who try
To soar to a different sky.
Til at last the evening comes,
When the promise of tomorrow numbs
I’m but an unhewn stone
A sculptor’s chisel never known


higher truth


as dawn unfurled in partly clouded sky, ~
and painted heaven with a crimson hue, ~
the thoughts that came to mind were twice as high,
as cloud or soaring hawk, or shards of blue,
those random bits of sky that hid behind,
the storms as they dispersed and took their leave,
great peace infused each corner of my mind,
as tho an inspiration or reprieve.

and so before my day could quite begin,
with all the many things that must be done,
propitiation for whatever sin ~
was granted by the glory of the sun.

and tho we’re told tis not for joy birds sing,
a higher truth exists in everything.


Tony Cochran

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