Since the Trains Left Appalachia I
By R. Gerard
Predevelopment of the mind individual
predominantly sitting high on clouds full of syllables,
raining words, letters are residual,
from drying of the pouring forth from
the beat of heavy feet in the middle of the street,
dance along but know that
I am a parable,
waiting to be told to the people
young and old,
cloth of desire will unfold
transforming shy to bold
through the copulation of validation
in ocean waves so cold
as to freeze the heart of a humble start
my inspiration sold
for thirty pieces three times over
sealed my fate foretold,
but no mistake this story, is bearable.
mine to write, mine to seal
mine to steal, sell, deal.
Make choices so deplorable
the chasm of my soul finally crossed,
made explorable by the inner eyes
of prodigal sons.
I've seen them.
I've been them,
with wallowed swine in muck and mud
and swallowed brine.
An unquenched thirst, and Dylan's
darkness on high, men ask
mercy, oh mercy!
But unable to die,
weep bitter tears, bitter tears.
My face is chafed, made raw with fears,
and rolling on the ground
such a thunderous sound,
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