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Mathieu Hotte Poems
Words Of Time
Substance of existence, a breath defined, birth of wisdom, words of time.
A Strolling Man's Journal
A strolling man decides to sit, checks his time, rests his hip.
Hours of anxious, I tend to tire, face pending expression, relief, the coward.
A child is born, takes a breath, a heart beats a rhythm, behold, creation.
We, The Endower
We stand on the soil of moral growth, we bleed to sprout, and heal to know.
In times of abstract givings, I worry I'll end up staring at all that shines upon the lines of sanities limitations.
Live With Agreements
Today, the hours will watch the minutes play tic, and the seconds play toc.
A rising man gives his legs, to me.
Menacing thoughts invade this good I thought I was cured. Guess I missed the double blink, of deceptions, 'sure'
Bring us here to listen, leave us here to reason.
Comments about Mathieu Hotte
Menacing thoughts invade this good
I thought I was cured.
Guess I missed the double blink,
of deceptions, 'sure'
Pessimist gesture from television,
I thought I changed the channel.
Guess its karma paying a visit,
infecting my precious cable.
Concrete legs and gravel hands,
is this my true reflection?
Sanities chisel above my head,
brick layer bows laughing.
His mixture hidden, outside relief,
a close friend supplies him.
A friend that tends to all his needs,
brick layers defensive.
This house almost completed,
my will ...