# the goblin does a poem then



## fleamailman

*growing old*
what now, do you still want your past
and how would you, if I may ask,
still believe then those lies of innocence
now dispelled through your own experience
delicately masked not to betray your age
so do you still wish to turn back this page,
and are you really so shallow and cheap
that some youthful need is all you seek,
amongst the blind who now share this pain
and as if the past could be relived again
while forgetting that old age has a goal
to seek within to find one's soul
and if not a “soul” a simpler wealth
to reach within to find “oneself”

-fleamailman-


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## fleamailman

*Microsoftious*
I met a broker of the Wallstreet brand
who said: Two vast and worthless piles of stock
lie crashed upon the ground. About them, near to hand,
now shrunk, these tattered credits lies, that shock,
of bloated slips whose sure and bold command,
tell that their author well those passions read,
which yet survive, scribbled on these worthless things,
the hand that believed them, and the heart that bled,
and upon their cardboard box these words appear:
"my name is Microsoftious, Share of Shares:
look upon my works, ye wealthy, and despair!"
nothing beside remains. Round the decay
of this colossal crash, boundless and bare
the blown and leveled brands stretch far away.

-fleamailman-


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## fleamailman

.


*Endless Mistrust*
Curse you crows on better branches
Who leave us owls with lesser chances
Who made us creatures of this night
Always in fear of your daytime strike
But in the dark you cannot see
The owl that swoops upon thee.

Curse you owls in your hidden nest
Who stork us crows as we do rest
Who made us creatures of this day
Always in fear of your nighttime play
But in the light you cannot stop
The crows that group to drop.

-fleamailman-


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## fleamailman

*Modern day witches*
Ah but I too, have slipped beyond this Earth
and formed those things that reason brings
onward I've typed and joined a tumbling mirth
of cascading codes -- and made a hundred things
you have not dreamed of -- revealed and stored and strung
ever on this black screen. Typing here,
I've raced my thoughts along, and flung
my heart at goals where others pier
of birth, these children of a coded .bat
who, if they could, would laugh and say:
"Well thanks but isn't it funny that
man has his maths where God has clay"

-fleamailman-


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## EastTexFrank

I enjoy your poetry, insights on life and your humor.  I wish that you'd shoot that fuckin' goblin.


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## fleamailman

EastTexFrank said:


> I enjoy your poetry, insights on life and your humor.  I wish that you'd shoot that fuckin' goblin.



("...ah but it's not going to happen though is it..." replied the goblin suspecting that the real question was not so _much how one was received_ by those who were real enough perhaps yet quite unprovable too, where just the nature of this _virtual reality_ was that not being _reality_ meant that it was _fiction_ in other words, but more the pressing question of _what one actually wants for one's time, _while passing through here where it all ends in the end anyway, adding "...no your reaction is understandable though no one is ever asking you to read my posts to begin with, and where I for my part have escaped to here still thinking that it tests my understanding of _online interactive content_, _the alter-ego, the projection of persona _and so much else that you have somewhat overlooked it seems...", in fact, the goblin was not confrontational, only that he wasn't conformist neither, smiling "...naah, nobody reads my posts but it's always a somebody who replies, you're a somebody to me now, but there is absolutely nothing real about you now...")


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## fleamailman

*A snapshot moment*
Ragdoll on a gravestone
forlorn upon the grass
seems you have made a home
amongst these bodies of our past
whose silent watchful ways
divides the worlds between us so
into you the one that stays
and me who has to go,
are you watching too I wonder
and what is it you see
just a man in his late Summer
in this churchyard cemetery.

-fleamailman-


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## fleamailman

.


*Ex-girlfriend*
If I had known what I know now
I would not have asked
nor grown somehow
into that person in your past
who remembers you still.

If I had better hidden what I hide today
I would not have shown you
nor given away
the me that remains out of view
that l have to kill.

If I could hate you like I hated then
I would not have come today
nor dashed again
these passions lovers pay
when all comes to nill.

-fleamailman-


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## fleamailman

*do not feed*
sprinkle sprinkle lowly troll
how I wonder at your goal
down below that bridge so high
like a duck to passers by  

-fleamailman-


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