August Poem 29: Speaking Meditation

Worker who has to make up the public

Violence. Words are not sticks or stones. They are

That glass’s condensation as working.

President Trump. If he were eloquent.

Wouldn’t be bad if the poetry gets

Cold. Speaking meditations. On things owned.

Directed out of the static essence.

Pine trees. Pickled pig’s lips. Anything sold.

Solid. Delusioned. Private. Growing like

Weeds. Walmart garlic flavored racial strife.

Once gave the mid-morning the second day

People that speak those vile and evil words

Fried emotional nature. Destroyed.

This as a work for you to recreate.

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