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Wiederspruch
by Gracie Katzmar
I walk, wandering in delicate filth,
sludging through sunken opium dreamers.
I coax them through lofty shadows.
I’m smitten with their bitter muttering,
soothing infernos seeping though space.
Hostile moaning,
swarming.
Smitten with rot. Pale filth,
dirty snow, angelic derision.
“I see. I hear. I touch. I kiss. I die.”
Beseeching madness.
Slavishly loving the earth.
I walk, I forget.
Melancholy
by Gracie Katzmar
I have no passion,
no drive.
I am a lump, a dump, a chump.
No metaphor is needed, for I physically feel the pressure.
I feel it on my shoulders, pressing.
Why the long face?
Sometimes I find myself saying something that isn’t really me,
I find myself worrying about social status,
or sometimes I agree with something I know is wrong.
I’m in too deep. Too late to go back now.
Fight for the right.
Believe what you believe.
Form your own opinions.
Yet I’ve wasted hours and hours, entire days.
I’m just not happy anymore.
Don’t be the complainer,
no negativity.
You are a strong woman.
Be assertive.
Still, my muscles are sore,
and by best friend thinks she’s fat.
How and when am I supposed to grow up?
When I’m around you, I act really pretentious.
Surrounded by immaturity and ignorance,
selfish,
self-degrading,
self-esteem.
I just need more sleep.
Ode to my Car
O what beautiful lights
Blinking in and out of focus
Like sleep laden eyes
Seen from far off on a moonless nights
Its heart beats
Like a dull droned hum
A faint stutter
Like a mother hare stirring softly in a secluded glen
My seat belt lays on top of
my lap like butter
That paint so soft and white
Secure all safe and tight
Away from scare and blight
O to have a beautiful automobile
Poem by Clark Snyder
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