These discarded faded rags
Reminiscence of past struggles
Pains that once drowned me
In an ocean of nothingness

The renewed ugly condition
Brings back bitter tang of air
That once boomed in my throat
And choked my frail lungs

On a rainy day, abandoned tattered clothes
Are worn by those who discarded them

Look down O! Child of calamity
An echo from within, rocks me softly
With a little touch of amusement
As I wear the rags to clean the filth

Time marches in, right on cue,
asks for his just due
holds the weapon of every choice
in the cloak that bares concealment.

Hey, but that's just for starters, we don't get the menu
until much, much later. There's nothing to eat but what wastes
away,
hunger manifests in each and every statue,
deep-veined in human blood
willing to come to life,
to be alive in dreamscapes, near and far;

motes of dust we travel well,
never break the silence of wild geese
with impossible intervention

Cinderella man…

As he sits on the stool staring
through eyes cut and bruised
He hears the crowd swearing
feels his body over used.

The bell, he dances on feet so light,
now he knew why he had to fight.
This was not for belts or to sample glory,
his was such a hard, sad, simple story.

He’d never erase that hungry picture,
his children trying to hide their fear.
However hard he’d tried to reassure,
they worried, would he always stay near.

I decided to accept Wesley's challenge to convert this verse of Blake to Iambic, but won't try for pentameter, that would demand a total re-write.

To see a World in a Grain of Sand
And a Heaven in a Wild Flower,
Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand
And Eternity in an hour.

To see a World in Sand's small Grain
a Heaven in a flower's bloom,
To Hold infinity in your hand's palm
Eternity each hour.

Goldenrod explode on the road sides
on a cool day 'neath the leaden sky
with black eyed Susans close as brides,
yellows exhaled by fall's first sigh.

Among the forests poplars turn,
gold sprinkled among somber green
like specks of butter in a churn
foretelling colors yet unseen.

Not yet time for the orange blaze
of hickory or maple trees
glowing through calm morning haze
or flickering in a gentle breeze.

I speak not of the holocaust,
Not six millions gassed to death
But the writing, “Never Again”
At the foot of a statue in Jufure
A man with a global map head
With outstretched arms
With broken chains of slavery
To mark the end of an era
When free men and women
Even children were sold into slavery
We celebrate now, at the Freedom Pole
And relive Alex Haley’s ‘Roots’ in June
With boat regattas to James Island
And with the proclamation, Never Again

A rumbling in the heavens
Is it moving day
For those
That walk upon the clouds

An eviction of sorts
For the ones
Who refuse to conform
To the antiquated ways

Time has been
The master of great change
But do those of old accept
A revolution of new thoughts

Is the golden rule
Still applicable
To mindfulness in those
Of free thinking

Where does it say
Choice was taken away
When it was given at the start
The road is there before us

bold face dancer
the lick of lights
sway quick to the beats
washing through
subsonic undulations

sweat drenched perfumed
treasure
with all your glitter trophy
gleaming

sweet saphire soul
a queen to eyptian thread
sheets on orthopaedic
bed thrones

I shall not be gone for long
but where I now belong
is far, far forlorn
sooner than later
I may be gone

But

hope to return
with Love to all
from Loved Anon...

I now reside
In a different world
they call paradice,
not paradise
but
where their is no ice,
only infested by mice.

None-the-less
life here is also very nice.

I miss you all too.
With love to all
who still loved Loved...

Life is a bipolar illness of the mind, I think.
The pendulum swings, emotions
to-ing and fro-ing on my heart dangling
from free-floating clouds,
stormy weather riding the heart-line,
the life-line shifts
from every direction,
but my director takes no hostages, pins no
awards for lifetime achievements or indiscretionary
wardrobe malfunctions
(it's all about the wardrobe and the make-up, eh?)