She was prone to moonwrath;
She was coming to goldenness;
It was an outblown image of potential –
Forever was smiling and playing with her hair.
Catullus was laughing bitterly,
And butterflies opened like hearts,
The slaves all walked to the sea, now dark,
But she…she was prone to moonwrath,
Unleashed upon tides, economies, minds,
With a necklace of conquests
Adorning her like a Yuletide wreath

“This is where I bleed through for you,”
I say, (in the unlikely rain, incessant)
Where Phoenix’ wings molt without
Sol touching & the songs all playing
And where I have no more of time, and
“Who are you?” I ask on this night of
Desert rain, of she, prone to moonwrath
And dire changes; But she leers, vanishes,
As this desert rain pours its tears down
Upon the silent cars and lives,
Tears poured back into the void of this land,
“Black teacher, lend me a hand!”
Joy will push through me,
Buzzing and weeping, wavering swiftly,
I an otherworldly being…
                          …can they even see me?

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I say to no one in general nor directly, I love myself; then a thought occurred, “Am I boasting?”
So, I asked another, “Hey, Am I boasting when I proclaimed “I love myself?”
He looked at me as to sized me up and ask me, “what you think?”
I answered, “that why I asking you. Am I boasting was my immediate thought after the statement?” He look around the cafe we was in and excuse himself, then joined a table with an attracive female sitting alone with no other words then “excuse me,” while pointing at her.
I was sure at that time for certainty that that question shouldn’t be asked again. I then given a quick thought about the statement and then felt a little happiness physically swelling within me.
I then loudly said in that public place, “I love myself!”
After that it didn’t matter what others nor I would conceived of the statement. The statement was one of those nice feeling emotion, which is a life of one’s own.

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That old concern as defintive verb.
Hasnt lost any luster in any era by an occur.
Power politics within pérsonalized compromises.
An empty courage in the realistic eyes.
A signalized threat as our natural sorceries
Most religious are spurn for this nature’s inconvience.
Yet some does realized their own vanity under this mortality’s summarized.
With all gains are valueless to everyone’s priceless life with you live, you die.

Written by George Eddie Burks Of St. Micheal’s Church Post 201, Chicago, Illinois.

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Untitled (so far.) by Geo E. Burks

Was that her I was thinking of.
Why should not I think of her?
She cared for that role,
The one in her life I was.
But she couldnt had me,
And I was contented as that.
Not as my pride nor my failure.
I loved her as my preference.

She did tried though.
To make me her more,
To make more of me.
I was already all that,
All that that had need.
From known pride and failures.
Remaking our preferences.

Yet, she wanted more of me,
The more she can entrusted as me,
Which isn’t not from me,
And all that because I was not had,
By a wanton desire mistaken as a need.
For I knew my pride and my failures,
By preferences that are known as I.

I did need to be that role for her,
Her friend, her lover and her strength.
The one who cared by caring.
The one who love by sheltering.
The one she can call reliant and loyal,
But she or I can’t had this,
Nor remake any of this.
These are my pride and my failures,
All done as my preferences.

This is why I was thinking of her.
Looking at that cage’s latchless door,
I made for us as our togetherness.
To make all that as what I had her for.
Knowing pride can easily marred this,
And either of us can easily fail this.
Fail that that was not meant to be had,
yet built by our preferences for our betterment.
A betterment for both of us as one’s loves.

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(To Those Of The American Music Association Who Are Always There Thoughout My Life With What I Really Need. Please, Allow This Poise From My Pure Essential Life’s As Being Convey Why I Had Always Appreciating What You Do.)

Thank You For Letting Us Know We Aren’t Alone Feeling.

Purity By Geo. E. Burks

You, songbirds’ sweet touch wells life anew.

In my mind, you can redefine love’s steadiness, too.

Find anymore love forms in my kudo?

To do me better with that form again as true.

Tears I hid well, You shame me there, too.

As my culture’s most high, and there I praise you.

Don’t let me, let this fail, for what I do!
For the failures will always have me alone to show as dues.

This I can placed when my balance is made anew.

Our heart’s strong commonarities impressed as art by you.

Thank You, for never allowing the thesis we be as a neglect for dues.

As a world under one sun, our skys resounds by the harvest of our common felt lieus.

Always true as of our natural capacity for refining what we crude.

For these refineries we grew to be the reforms our uniqueness as infinitive new!!

Consistently since we first noticed of you songbirds’ justifying and maturing my living life moods.

With your airborne felt flights of everlasting passages thru and above my estate’s refuges.

You are very much of my earth’s evolving sustances arising reinforcing my humanly soul true.

With signals liberating the whole spirit from points within that are uninformed subdued.

To reproof us as an always and again as we love and this is why I will evermore always love you.

Thank you for the sheltering and nurturing of our distinct hearts’ life-giving cultural rooted muses

Your love and honor does enriches my country’s symbolic blues!!

With with evermore XOX(S) THANK YOU!!!

From A Fan Who Happily Dwelling In Your Snafus Named George.

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The first ring,
And they stand still,
Could it be for them?

The first ring
Brings eyes to them,
They want the attention

The first ring
Brings eyes on them,
They recoil at the stares

The second ring
And they look back
Look around

The second ring
They begin to suspect
There is a message for them

The second ring
Someone must have that song,
I can’t be the only one

The third ring
Out comes the bag
From under the coat

The third ring
And the hand fishes
The gap for the device

The third ring
Now out in the open and louder
Until the voices replace it

With that music
Coming out of a little box,
Straining to the max

They should be embarrassed,
But when my phone rings,
I will jump up,

Someone remembers me.

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One shave and you’re
Back in the world,
Two blades rub
Against your face
In a metallic imitation
Of the kiss you miss,
Luckily it’s all electric,
Your hand trembles too much
To hold a naked razor
Against your jugular.

Now you’re the gardener again,
Taking care of yourself,
She would be proud, only
If she was standing in the threshold,
Her face looking back in the mirror
Like a painter placed
Inside his creation, observing himself.

Before you were alive,
But not awake, the world
Had its way with you
And let time sit on your face
To conjure up a brush
Sweeping everyone away.

The engine growls,
The first music you have heard,
And the best, sound independent
Of any passion, of love lost,
It tells you that the bills are paid
And the fuse box is working,
Small joys you had a hand in.

Gently, you are reminded
That there is still creation,
There is time to carve a mask
Or to liberate a chin for the world to see,
Time will bury you soon enough
You can take a moment
To climb out and walk around
Before the gravedigger notices you’re gone,
Your Delilah wanted you to grow these hairs,
She wants to hide how you looked,
She’s done with that man.

Bring him back, bring him out,
And parade him under her window,
Let her know who’s she missing,
Risen from the dead and taking no prisoners,
Including her, you’re harmless,
But she doesn’t know that,
Let her be afraid, thinking of those blades
And what they’re capable of cutting.

One shave and you’re
Back in the world,
Welcome son, and stand
Before the mirror,
Watch your hairs falling
Like black snow
Remember to trim the bushes
Sprouting from the nostrils,
She never liked the sight of them.

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