Feeling like someone else wrote my autobiography-Ward Clever/Demons, Unicorns, and Cupid’s Assassins

Ward Clever

I’m at the top of this hill
Wind blowing right into my skin
Thrusting stinging whispers of you
What you were, what we were
Right through my capillaries
Nerve endings tingle and twinge
I am forced to admit the truth of things
The garments we wore when we were happy
Seem to be destined for a charity box
The coffee, once warm, sits unfinished
Just like we never touched one another
Talking about me rather than to me
I lean away rather than towards
I know what I said
I know
I know this, believe me
But I know what I see
I know what I feel
I know what’s happening
I know how it ends
That slow goodbye where images fade
Dreams go undreamt
I don’t know what will happen
Becomes something obviously happening
Sliding down slippery slopes
Can’t climb back up again
Sliding into the gaping chasm

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The Green Grass Of Time-Ward Clever

Trying so hard

To recapture youth

Don’t forget that youth is free

It never was captured

In the first place

It never could be

Forcing reality

Into the mold of memory

Causes damage

Both now and in the past

As both become distorted

The past remembered

Better than it actually was

The present experienced

Worse than it actually is

The green grass of time

Cut down by ghosts

Mr. Clever describes himself as a struggling romance addict, winding down on a Lady Gaga song.  He writes at Ward Clever.

Appearing In The Mist, Insatiable

Ward Clever

You knew that metaphors were direct, but you asked me why I never used similes. I said that similes were like diet metaphors. They just didn’t taste as good. You laughed.

That walk to the woods was magical, in the mist. You kept disappearing and reappearing in a place I didn’t expect. Once you were gone for a little too long, and I didn’t want to call out because it was very late, so late it was early. I finally found you by a cat and her new kittens. I didn’t blame you for not calling me over. I loved you more, then.

Whatever we were on had no signs of wearing off, so we went deep into the woods, down the giant staircase to the stream. You nearly fell, but I caught you. I would always catch you. We walked to the spring and laid down across the rocks…

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Summer Taphophile Melancholy-Introducing New Sudden Denouement Member Ward Clever

Shadows of shadows

Watching over me

Take their tasks

So seriously


Echoes of echoes

Listening to me

Rippling noises



Wheels within wheels

Turning me

Gears are grinding



Thoughts upon thoughts

Remembering me

Time ticks on


Mr. Clever describes himself as a struggling romance addict, winding down on a Lady Gaga song.  He writes at Ward Clever.

Listen To Me, Daddy-o/Ward Clever

Ward Clever

He always kept the gum wrapper, to put his gum in after it was chewed, after the flavor was gone. He always kept a bevy of women on his arm, to put his soul in after he was used up, after his faith was gone. He always kept a wipe in his wallet rather than a condom, because he had a greater chance of getting dirty than getting off.

She glided in like a dismembered jet engine, slamming into his heart and summoning his fire brigade. He dissociated her from pain immediately. Somehow he knew this crash would have two survivors.

He flipped her over his back, twirling her in place before matching her steps. This lindy hop was jumpin’ and jivin’, daddy-o. One more martini and he would be spelling their night backwards.

The view from the penthouse was lovely. So easy to just jump off, living happily for…

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