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My ears are ringing.
It's ringing; not a buzz,
while my head feels
like it is covered in fuzz.
Perhaps it's my body,
giving me a hint,
that my old grey matter
is full of old lint.
It's surprising to me
as my mind does recoil
and what I see in the news
makes my blood boil.
The ignorance that is seen,
in this great land,
is in both parties as they
await the command.
Get out to vote.
Vote where you can.
Vote for your choice,
Woman or man.

She said to me,
"if I tell you to go,
would you just leave?
When you look at me,
I see the sadness, you feel
and know you'll be
better when I'm gone."
I said "Stop don't talk like that
for I am here for you,
no matter what you might do.
Please don't worry about me;
we will manage this, please agree."
She looked and nodded at me.

Sometimes I sleep "The Sleep of the Dead"
with no thoughts or dreams in my head.
An absence of words, so deep inside
stay within my head; are trying to hide.
When I awake from this stupor so deep,
I then know what it is like to sleep.
Unlike the times I get up at three
as the words in my head will remind me,
scribe down to paper, in my notebook,
the words that appear haven't been forsook.
Later that morning, I'll re-read the words,
striking out those are simply absurd.

I wish I could see,
what she does,
through her brown eyes.
I can't, so therefor
I now must surmise.
She see's something else,
that she cannot describe,
which frustrates her, every way.
This disease is so cruel,
for her to live every day.
It is why she tells me
"I will soon be going away."

Laying in bed, words all a jumble;
I'm not writing them down,
for I will not tumble,
into this pit of worry
or feeling sorry for me.
Oh dear God, help me out of this mess
of seeing my beloved, slipping away.
What can I do, on this miserable day?
My love for her is still there;
She knows me not, I'll not despair,
for I know her and always will.
My love for her gives me a thrill.
I know these words, corny they are,
but they're my words, they surely are.

Into the night with
darkest of sky,
he waited patiently for
the Moon to pass by.
The brightness, came slow
and gradually.
He could see where to
step, walking gingerly.
Trying to be quiet so he
wouldn't be heard.
Creeping so closely to
that elusive bird.
One that is a beauty,
known all around.
This was the place where
it could be found.
The colorful feathers reminded
him of you,
when in pursuit of the elusive,
beautiful, Cockatoo.

Shades of Shale,
a flat type
of volcanic rock,
that would slide
down the hill
where ever you walked.
Yards of rock,
on a side hill,
careful to be
on Nature's spill.
Take one step,
balance a must,
shale will slide,
gliding on dust.
Down the hill,
so carefully,
learning to walk
or how to ski.
Noisy it was,
a rattling sound,
frightening the animals
who were still around.

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