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Untitled

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For me to unmake the wild light that candles me would seal me in the darkness of another’s choice.
Misery tried to form me from its clay of sorrow, but I refused to surrender to the sculptor’s knife.
Waiting for the world to turn back to me, decide I fit in a slot I’ve outgrown is not living.
I believe what you love you must love now because tomorrow could arrive empty.
©Susie Clevenger 2019
My poem was written from Kenia Santo's prompt to create a poem from a list of Post-Rock song titles she provided. The songs I chose are: Unmake the Wild Light, Waiting for the World to Turn Back to Me, and What You Love You Must Love Now.
Real Toads ~ Kenia Santos

Blame it on Music

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I’m going to dance, not care about stares, not care about glares.
My happy grooves when music moves
me to step up and step out.
If I smile, you can smile. If I sway, it’s OK. If I clap, it’s no trap.
Music doesn’t care how you look, doesn’t care how long it took for you to get over yourself.
Bring on the band…I’ll take your hand. There’s no divide when happy glides right up to your seat to get you on your feet.

©Susie Clevenger 2019


Real Toads ~ Juice!

The Wink of His Words

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I bloom in the back of his mind where tea leaves speak and blood is thicker than tears.
He walks hat tipped in salute to every dreamer that catches my silhouette in the wink of his words.
Pin striped lanky limbs struggle to keep him centered, but I am the ink writing him out of his mind.
There’s no warning when a pen breaks a glass heart, or madness finds a mirror. Love is never born from common sense.

©Susie Clevenger 2019
This poem first appeared in Visual Verse and was inspired by the artwork of  Craig Carry The photo I used here is by Alex Fu via Pexels.
Real Toads ~ The Tuesday Platform

Reevaluate

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Trying to subdue my passion for feral with pretty color baths of tame sunshine invites rebellion.
Prepare to address scratch marks when you reevaluate your capabilities regarding domestication.

©Susie Clevenger 2019
The Sunday Muse #65

Take It Personally

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I travel heavy and keep secrets in deep pockets of my skull.
Every broke down town has bottle therapy if you have enough green in your wallet to pay for the prescription.
Some like to drink until they're empty. I tequila to the edge of my teeth, and give the beer crew just enough sad song to keep the waitress collecting tips.
I like to wear yellow, collect blue, and keep whispers at arm’s length… If I don’t answer your questions, take it personally. My wheels don’t turn on your dime.

©Susie Clevenger 2019
I don't know why this sounds like a trucker speaking, but my muse went there.
The Sunday Muse #64


Long Nights of Burnt Days

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There’s a lot of flesh and blood in his harmonica, long nights of burnt days, and prayers carrying him to the crossroads with the devil on his back.
He testifies about his dark side in blue notes walking their way toward redemption until the liquor congregation pours another amen.
He was a lot of things… Is a lot of things. He pours past and future through one day at a time into music that helps every listener carry their own story.
©Susie Clevenger 2019
The Sunday Muse #62

Real Toads ~ The Tuesday Platform