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Image for the poem Crying Miseries of Wisdom, Love, Wine, and Dope, (Long After They've All Spilled)

Crying Miseries of Wisdom, Love, Wine, and Dope, (Long After They've All Spilled)

 


Obviously (it should be clear by n'ow that )

Everything                                is made of copious
                                                      amounts (portions)
                                                     of
No Thing....................................so, what
                                                     is One (let'lone two)
                                                      t'do'bout it?

It's the very day that, supposedly, November becomes December
                be-coming thee first day of thee final month of thee
                 i'maginary   y e a r ,
                                                 a  prick'ly recall of autumn days near winter
                                                        from'back fifty fckn annuals ago.
                          something               tells ye          The World       is cold
                                            somewhere      (but certainly  not  here, nor
                        was it there, if indeed  "it"       is the same day i'm thinking
               about.
But, hell, wee canno think of whole days from fifty years ago.
Only
      moments       that may convey   A Feeling (sen'sation) of that pre'posturous
                     piece-of-time(ly)    /g]nostalgia wit             that beautiful young
                                                                                                girl, who is now
                                                                                                  lost to serious
                                                                                                    ugly old'age (or
                                                                                            died before such a deed,
                                                                                       this golden age bullshittiana
                                                                                              could man'ifest
                                                                                                   it's-self
                                                                                       so bloody tragi'comedically
                                                                                  upon
                                                                         the light
                                                                whatever
                                                      youth
                                                   might
                                            have been, were I (wee) had paid any
                                            attention to
                                   a few
                              of the particulates.

Like trading dirty water for precious tears, not sure if there's any difference.


aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaajjwbsy2iducgiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiooooooo
2018dkzk\\\\poom+badfotogrf/////////////////////

dkzksaxxas_DanielX
Written by dkzksaxxas_DanielX (DadaDoggyDannyKozakSaxfn)
Published
Author's Note
A fractious misconception made for lunaticular preponderance.
(Isn't it obvious?)
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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