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Post by AquarianM on Oct 17, 2020 7:15:38 GMT -6
Poetry In The Dark...
I may never win a Nobel prize, Yet I write.
In the moments just before sleep, The clock being shaved, The morning with it's green paper chains, Art is a "quaint notion"," Here is this goal-oriented gilded cage, Yet I write.
Torn between technology and artistry, One fuels my intellect and wallet, Yet poetry keeps the soul alive, Like rice and ramen in a famine, Perhaps some days red beans and rice, I write.
The Ferenghi would fear our engines of profit, The warp in our drive, This haven of capital, Bastion of corporate motivation, The place that craves every click, Yet I write.
With love, I bid we automatons, Good night.
AquarianM
By: Daniel A. Stafford © 10/16/2020
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Post by Catlady2710 on Oct 17, 2020 11:23:48 GMT -6
You just have to right Dan, and I am so glad you do
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Post by AquarianM on Oct 18, 2020 1:49:33 GMT -6
You just have to right Dan, and I am so glad you do Thank you, Cat. It's a part of me like breathing now. Dan
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Post by Catlady2710 on Oct 18, 2020 9:04:53 GMT -6
Oops, I meant write, not right...lol! But I see you know what I meant.
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