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A Tempest in a Crackpot
by MrDaMan Virgil R. Hall II (Randy) A poke full of broken dreams, of schemes, of fame fortune and worldly significance. In a bag of perspectives carved out of fantasy, filled with the sands of reality and placed carefully on the souls levee to manage emotional flooding. A tempest in a crackpot, swirling life brimming with love and dampened by doubt, inhibited by vexations without. Survival of the whit in the pit of don’t quit, shammed, crammed and damned into the doom of the gloom in the spirits room exiled extroversion introverted into a silent raging sea. Behind this levee of broken dreams. It’s leaking now… weakened by age, by wisdom that understands nothing. Understands nothing. Wisdom understands nothing. NOTHING! Wisdom, a word to the wise, a word to the wise, Wisdom understands nothing. Sandbags of broken dreams, of schemes, of living, of crying, laughing and sighing of whying and trying… Again and again … Old soul where have you been? You’re wet, you’re leaking, you’re speaking. You’re dreaming.
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Category: Cycle of Life / Coming of Age
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