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Saturday, January 12, 2008


This one is not necessarily titled (and that's not the title of this poem! lol)
This one too, is dated 27.12.07 (English dating, the day and month are swapped) and I was in a happy mood writing it!

My poems are to be read aloud with passion,
rather than the teacher dictating it to you in a monotone drawl.
The passion within these words keep my body going,
so treat my poems kindly.
I retell you the events with the joyful drama
that I did not add myself.
It is there already, and I saw it,
and now this comes into play.
The haste of the writing, the drama of the scenario,
all created this simple prose,
emjambement ABUSED, but I think this as I go...
The cloud I am out of, and the Pierrot mask goes on!
I am happy on the inside, sad on the outside,
the host of pain and misery!
And I do but like to tell all…
Drama is what I love- the passions of the loins I have not bore witness to,
even if it leaves me a quivering, maniacal mess on the floor.
you get up, dust yourself off, and prepare yourself for it again.
Inside I say ‘I am not a worrier, not a warrior’ and yet I still live,
my email address ‘fightagainstdeath’ bears witness to it all.
I may be dragged down, all sense be gone, not willing to see the light,
but I always know the hermit will come SLOWLY out of her cave.
And when I prevail, I beg, no applause
“it’s all part of the fun; I bid you thank, I bid you praise for putting up with me when I was gone”
I smile coyly, I give the thumbs up, I jump for joy that the sun has come back
I cry with laughter, but I kid you not, IT HURT LIKE FUCK!
These poems I write with dry irony, are present to all who bear witness.
These get me along in my days of pride, and a necessity in my fallen days.
I have the way, all I need is the will, but will you help me in it?
~Amaris Dixon

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