Oh, dear, I'm a blogger,
Won't be the first and shan't be the last.
Where to start, how?
How should I call my blog?
Decisions, decisions...
I grab one of my poems and borrow one of the closing lines.
THE HIDDEN CRACKS OF OBLIVION.
Done.
Are you sitting comfortably? Let's begin...
GROUND ZERO + 47
Time calls
For a Spring clean.
All bad moments
Frozen by the Winter air,
Laid out
In the open.
Bare.
Time calls
For a Spring clean.
Broom and bucket,
Out on a fair,
Not a second longer
To be spared.
Time calls
For a Spring clean.
One of those
That’s after those figments of the past
That did not find
The comfort of perdition.
Like
Bad memories that
Turned to dust.
Or stagnant whispers
That seep through
The hidden cracks of oblivion.
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