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    The Black Rider

    authentic since 1981 'welcome to my bomboclot mind'

    Saturday, February 24, 2007

    1146


    Goodnight Blogville. It's a Saturday and a very busy weekend for The Black Rider. So I'm going into my archives for today's post.


    In my teens and early twenties (which is like last week, I'm still 25 for another 8 days) I considered myself to be a rebellious and enlightened poet. I wrote hundreds if not thousands of poems and and a few short stories. This is poem # 1146.


    Comfort


    I've cried enough/

    So I have a relationship/

    With my tears/

    They seldom touch my tongue/

    But my eyes always taste them/

    My tears taste like/

    Rest/

    The juice of my stress/

    They are very warm/

    Like the blood flushed hands/

    Of an anxious lover/

    On a smiling face/

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    If you know me then you know my name. I am The Black Rider and the world is my Flame. The rider writes, observes, creates, produces, and learns the world around him. Ride on. Ride on!

    The Remnants