Silver Star - 3,185 Points (JUNE 7 1964 / ABERDEEN)

The **** - Poem by GRANT FRASER

I don't think you see
the **** in me,
in fact I don't really
see me either,

but I have conjured
up this computer assembly,
of thoughts,

the words, or the art
in trying to make them sit,

please just stay right

I don't know if placing
them like this
is worth the bother,

meaning is elusive,

and they get stuck
in my innermost places,

hold on - don't go!

I've been in here,
inside the psyche
for 25 years,

moments where as I should
not feel deceived,

and if anybody should know
a little bit about
these tricky little buggers,
then it's me...

and that's the ridiculous demand
that comes with it,

I always think,
well just paint
an everyday picture,

but the cat for instance
that I see,
just comes over looking
like it does, either God
smitten or attention seeking,

And Ted comes into my head
right away, and Blake too,
but what I can do?

eat my word brush?

you see poetry is a drug
whether you do it well or not,

and the person who calls
oneself the very word I find
most difficult to discuss,
is lost to me...

that of being a ****
and it being true....

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Poem Submitted: Thursday, February 27, 2014

Poem Edited: Friday, March 7, 2014

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