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Category: Poetry

Practically Catharsis

Speak Goddammit. I’ll wring you till you sing a sonnet so sonorous, that weeping will only unerringly honor it. Sing to me so lyrically an Iliad, but brief! Make Troy of ennui An Odyssey of relief Lend me your voice For un-screamed screams walls stricken at half-force For sake o’ deferred dreams whisper. this is practically catharsis   –Raymond Lew

Ode to the Sound of Progress

What sound should sound the march of progress? what beaten drum resounding? Bell rung, howling out deeds done for all to hear and recognize Ah Progress! Hear, hear! The mellifluous melodies, marking the march of progress! How sweetly doth chords swing and sway to thine ear? How beautiful the composition! Could this not be but Progress? O’ now, the horns blaring, with sound so concrete That cannot tension but build, build, build! Silence straining, sleep breaking, waking to the Sound of Progress!   –Raymond Lew

Autumn 2

Rustling swooning, dying leaves haunt an evening gusty breeze swirling twirling dancing on wind that whistles in the dawn of an early winter. –Raymond Lew

Autumn

A last kiss from Autumn warmth leaving, lips left cold rose complexion, now so gently pale by every tender sigh exhaled on frosty breath imbued a softly sweet perfume haunts an evening gusty breeze rustling swooning, dying leaves waking me just in time for winter   –Raymond Lew