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 William Seward Bonnie
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 William Seward Bonnie
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by William Seward Bonnie  FollowFollow
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A genetic hybrid cyborg consisting of old super computer parts and out dated weapons, William Bonnie also enjoys long naps on the beach and a...read more home cooked meal. An ordained minister of the Universal Life Church, Mr. Bonnie spends his free time brandishing loaves of French bread and proving that sleeping in cars and being kicked out of bars is still the 'hip' thing to do. In times of peril Doc Bonnie insists pizza is the best way to ride out the storm, in other words, he's not your ordinary poetry hoarder. Then again, this isn't his first dimension to flirt with.
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Spruce
Bringsteen my dopamine receptors to acceptable levels
Pleaseeee
Assimilate fever and general anesthesia so we wont be treated like dope fiends
With amnesia
Into the needless Jesus's,needles please us,in haste the seasons bring us
Seizures
On fences.
We're crucified with air tanks and dentures.
Slight dementia is a hint to the far side
When was our partied?
Or do we just not get a garden of Eden...
OH pesticides!
Lesions of a liaison
WHO
Teach lessons as day jobs, squabble squawk over jealous poppy cock,telling others to take a frolic of a hill
Or what not.
Spilling those inner workings in a rainbow cataclysm
An orgasm for those culture vultures and intellectual timber wolves
Golden hooves carry me to danger!
Away from these wagers
What a stranger life to be
Fore everlasting favors
Brave…is never having to say good bye…
Well at least in my estimation.
Returns are intimate
And the rest is a lost cause
a brief pause in this runaway train called life
for, I’m married to the road
Freedom is my wife.
But away from constant change
Or the canvas that is painstaking and has zapped every inch of thought
Creation is a form of destruction
Dismantling while assembling
the main purpose of life
/           /
Isn’t it to take chances and be generous?
Whether with your feelings
Or your belief system
The name of the game is
LIGHT
Works
LOVE
Up from the get
go/blast from the past/yo/robots drinking petrol/night skies light up like the fifth of July. The only rights is fullfilment as a weekend warrior in disguise/reprise/the only entrepreneur who spits vicious manure has you up in arms like you was praising your furer/explanations are rural/
southern head,
cornbread fed,
Wu-tang reciting white kid from T.E.X..issss ,entangled in stove runs and costal pirate missions/gets you thinking of transcontinental condo timesharing/
Spare me..
The rest is bearing down on me like a pyramid with an eyelid
Careless,
Let it sparkle and Gleem.

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Poem of the Week

I Walk In Snow

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Author of the Week

Jessica Dawson is a modern-day Wendy. She lives in California with Peter Pan, a preschool diva and a future statistic, unfortunately. She’s the author of one book of poetry, Fossil Fuels (Verve Bath Press), and has had poems published in Thunder...read more Sandwich, The Montucky Review, Passenger May, killpoet, Words Dance, Remark., Nefarious Ballerina, and
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