52. Recycle
- November 11th, 2010
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Recycle
Poets think and most of them drink it’s the elixir of human emotion
Spew out all the good in you to make room for the poisons kill
Feelings precipitate and emotions fluctuate as we pop the still pill
Nothing can play the time away from the yelling inside
Right now the places where the rivers meet inside me is rubbish
There is no weekly collector for it I see why no one is swimming
There is no solution except by my own hand
I must wade into the mess
Salvage what I can and recycle the rest
Painters see everything from far and close it’s the love of light
Revolutions and executions transformed by brush and sight
Deep springs from dark places is best water for the clearing
Beyond the transforming of each cell each second each day
Grass grows and worms sow the earth every seed has to find its way
No matter what I am not what I am is changing anyway
There is no solution except by my own hand
I must wade into the mess
Salvage what I can and recycle the rest.

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