My Hands Shake

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My hands shake
As I raise an overfull cup of coffee
Perhaps already had enough
But I’ll continue to be me

These roads, waterways & paths
The most beautiful moments I’ve come across
I love you, but I sometimes I have needs
Today I’m going to purposely get lost

Quiet Practice Of Language

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Quiet practice of language
Where saints lay desecrated
Discarded words & their meanings
Grizzled by dreams we’ve created

Continuing on is our only option
In spite of our demon’s desires
Internal resolve beats steadily
Rising once more; trial by fire

One Must Be A Seeker

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One must be a seeker
To discover unique truth amongst the thorns
Head down, hiding that grime I feel inside
I’m intelligent, yet not enough to forewarn

Trying to eek out a stable existence
With all these storms heading my way
But you have to want to be something more
Never content at the beginning of the day

We’re bordering on anarchy
With the streets continuing to seethe
This communal madness
Fighting for our shared right to breathe

But I have a long forgotten confession
Which will leave you confused & aghast
Tacked to the back of a soul’s liberty
Forever within the defense of our contrasts