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Remembering You

Remembering You

A ghostly flower blooming and withering,
(or blot) blinking with colors that strain to brightness,
to equal those of what were seen before;
fragments, with the music or plain utterances
attempting to be as loud (or as soft)
as what they really were...

But all in vain.

Blurred and ephemeral. Just for a haunting and fleeting...
Many times an unexpected visitor,
an intruder, inside...

What is complete and constant is that depressing spirit:

Void of form and details, yet lingering, encumbering,
dragging. Punctuated, highlighted,
by the thief that intermittently
gives, curses, and leaves

with a piece.

Cog





Cog

 
 
I am a new age slave mind-whipped daily on an electronic plantation owned and operated by morons and moral midgets.

I am a cog caught in a digital machine digging deeper for a number.

It’s all about a number.

Their number.

Your employee number.

Your bank account number.

Your social security number.

It’s all about a number.

Their number. 
 
You work ungodly hours for ungodly people whom deem your existence disposable.
They often quote “there’s three hundred like you on the street ready to work for that number.”
Their number. It’s all about a number. You are just a cog.

 

 Mark Antony Rossi is a poet, playwright and author of eight books.

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