Robert Robbie Dudley

Robert Robbie Dudley

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Riverside, NJ
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About Me

THE NIGHT'S SHINING ROAD COVERS ME, i'LL READ. Thyme leeds a begotten hold
oh, poetry a random ray of light
shining golden drops trickles by in two and two knew thru drippings real
outta the ceilings O listenings i swept up across the corners i like it to lay it deep from leaves it can bespake wrote my rake
down i chose on the ground best meanings goes to view, what's torn
when i want to fly within, without wings
spanning high, red, green, blue, yellow, brown
or black or of purple sunset red
in orange, pink, white, yet, fades out more shades tower
to make sunrise flower across
to become music wild wind of the mind
might i stand upon to
look the other way
a thought in flight at dawn
at dusk and against the day
and at a time amidst a night sky
a line to add, to resist new a-drop into this
onto a past memory but it ain't so
the same it remains my indentity of myself
i feel, i count in here more than signs
when i'm done, if, ever, for later mountains
outwards, on-wards down the night's feeling
shining road, i'll read, cover to cover my heart
what we are all and all one long line
by a line uneven adle ways in idle hours to be
nearer away, if, must stop at times
it gets ever closer than this before
was it everso i don't know
i need too although, i can dream
in meeting rooms everyone's gloom went
our's, mine and your's to the story over again
in a space-time, in a picture, in a dream
may-be in this if not perhaps dimes dropt
perchance i lost a bit of making mud
on this time to look on i fall sad some got
if, all such and such is all rough on
the ways and rose unseen going up where-at
unto the end of an long incorrect path preening
it and, that, i am watching new leaves burst
a perfect day, meeting, keeping
a-hold on by me alone my own account
then is gone everyone deep over me
the blue fast hills chose free
now the wind rolls on like a drum rolls
within the troubles stirs up smiles
to be somewhat drifting off as a-senseless canvas blank
inside a dark crystal
O' what is this think goes must stop link, whenever's, at the end
of the night's shining road covers me
i'll read my words although between the lines
a-metaphor heals as-when bleak declines
into a shade that made it firm
the old apple tree of great art, water, stillness
seen afar with-in, with-out wings
a total slant of rain in the middle we'll have, oh, poetry
a random ray of light although shining
when i got nothing, unless, howso, to say it ?
more obsolete i live thru this mouse on a leaf


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