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Allen Clarke Allen Clarke
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soul mates

This free-style prose is a little something inspired by the Outhouse poet in all of us. I labour, as a security guard. I mainly walk my little legs off all night, while more sane people are snug in their beds. You may respond at any time, you know. Don`t be afraid. I don`t bite. Although, I see some of you have a very lovely neck.

This midnite song
is for all those weary souls
who have flip-flopped worlds

They are much like
Lone rangers
in a lighthouse
or mayhap a fire-tower
where they are
willing prisoner
of the almighty dollar
they watch by night
like hawks
red-eyed and forever yawning
forever pawning their precious
daylight hours
daylight savings time
Indeed, they would make
the poorest of vampires
bleeding themselves of their youth
nocturnal, and perhaps supernal
in their imaginings of
things that
quite, simply
aren`t There
Alone, heartbreakingly awake
they watch the sun come up
while secretly hoping
that the sun`s rays
will not, somehow...diffuse
their glory, though inventively imagined it
may be, you see

Clock strikes off the hours
at 12.60 a pop
The city sleeps
the dreamer weeps
for lost youth
and, how, did you guess it was me
you beautiful scoundrel
was it because of my grey
and why do you think
it facetious that I am known
as Silver Fox
enough of me
does my heart so swell with pride
I am alone, you see
I ache
to bake
my own cake
far away
in a castle
in my dreams
or perhaps on
an island of my own
where no man should live
as Solitaire
even a billionaire
needs air
to breathe sweet air
of friends

No one has to be alone
we are all
never by ourselves
there is always someone to watch
the Watcher
and, so I leave you now
but just remember
you, as well as i
are only alone
If we choose to

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