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Wet Walker

A poem from 1991
04 Sept 2019 Poetry

The night is very wet and fullfilling

The 9:01 reflects passionately

off of the broken glassy puddles

My umbrella protects me

from the down pour that curves to wet me

it sings fabulous tapping encores

as drops of water echo through my head

like mental argumentation

My bodily shadows shift

as I pass the lofty overlooking street lamps

The trees lean over the street

to give shelter to the spirits of the blue

which have been haunting me dryly

Cars pass me slowly

like some insult to my damp stroll

My feet collect the water

and produce slapping sounds upon the ground

as if I was being followed by some other lonely soul

I linger slowly past the drain

where all of the night's products exit the street

like all of my hope exiting my body painfully

I must find another drain

one that takes my problems from me

a drain that could transport me

to a happy land

above the dark clouds thay make me blue

Take me you wet walker of the night

take me from this illusion

this image which keeps me making the same mistakes

You leave me here

like some lost child

trying to find his way through a garden

of creatures lurking and scaring me to insanity

Give me a home to sleep in

a place to dry off

and a place to put down this throbbing noisemaker

christopher m. pilie' 1991

Crimson Rada

The Crimson Rada Experience

There is a part to all of us that we wish to cover and hide. It is our shadow. This collection of work is a peak behind the facade for a view of the shadow. Why hide the shadow. Embrace it.


Embrace the Shadow

There is a part to all of us that we wish to cover and hide. It is our shadow. This collection of work is a peak behind the facade for a view of the shadow.

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