Tuesday, November 20, 2018
Bluest Despair
Idiolects, intellects, and derelicts
huddle behind the loneliness
in the grayest area between joy
and an epithet; one's pique
becomes an anchor chained in
solitude with an incurable
melancholy;
disfiguring reason blots out
the yuletide and adding snow and
rain only compounds the
vapid emptiness; the misanthropic
cheerless greetings symbolize
the cruelty of Christmas whereas
many see cordial kneadings and
intermingle revelations, for thee
old and forgotten are soon rotten
in memory, though the ones who
brought unforgiving grievance
stay affixed to recollection like
thousands of dangling icicles.
- John Hardesty
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Hardesty Humor
I slept like a rock last night, one rolling over a cliff.
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The great oak stands magnificently alone in the meadow, far from the nexus forest. Seasons have passed for the secular oak as decades...
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One morning cleaning up behind the bar there was a loaded sawed-off double-barrel shotgun propped up beside the cooler underneath the...
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Man's defeated when born, yet he contrives an escape clause, and that's to be immortal.
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