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a poem
(by) Thomas Kelly Sitman

Jumanjii Days

T. K. Sitman


     There is friction, there is difficulty, there is scorn, there is madness, there is ill-repute there is injustice, there is filth, there is squaller, there is impatience, there is dispair, there is lonliness, there is twisted-thinking, there is negativity, there is desperation, there is diminished hopes, there is broken dreams, there is impending doom...

     ''Where would you rather be, rather be,
               rather be... be... be... be... ? ? ?''

     Thank you, Vishna, thank you Krishna and thank you, too. ''Now what do I do right now?''


     I die the death of the day of the moment of the change of the minute and second and hour and the proton and red blood-cell that pops and dies for my very sustenance...  I am dying every second that it is that I am also re-born...

''I want to be truly alone so I
can truly cry the tears
of frustration for my-
in relose.''


     I am rediciled, I am ruthlessly sought, and I am not extirpated by your thoughts of rehement revenge and world ego trampling me underfoot like a rhinoceros in the throes of panic and terror in the rage of the stampede... Jumaji!

the women of the order
of dracus and scorpius will
bury your sick soul with
a frezied hoarde
centuriuds sculptarus!!!


     Baby born, blue sky, starryeyed stillness in the sweltering night, I am shamed for my existence simply because I exist and lo, if I did not exist the, woe, I would not be shamed!

     So it is the trance of theme whines thru the expance of my shattered exisstence where icy shards of glass fall and burst into the fragments of psyche that tear and bore at my tortured soul today...  as it did so yesterday and te day before that. -The End

If anyone wonders... I feel like I am less-than and I don't want to think about why.

Tues & Thurs @ 9:00
Burleson & Benwhite
# 14 Tronic heighty
a 'path' to the left
walk down the path
to the church.