My Bond


Must unravel, this unhandled display of being tongue tied in instances. 

By truthfully saying what everyone thinks, and by questioning businesses pleasure conducted by winks.

Disallowance to untangle an engaged wit, 

of thoughts created to pacify the ways of thinking that stinks, 

but it forms a piece of peace, 

for it is what we all seek, 

to please a discerned link, 

by the pleasure of the ego and  heart’s need of a mink.

A cozy cushion of cute words, 

empty of true meanings, to roam free, floating airily toward our hearts’, but never truly sink.

As we wait for it all to capture and  enthrall us, catch up with our gall and stop appalling the nature in which we crawl, to recognize, 

a ring  of infinty trapped inside a real 24 kt compliment’s zing. 

For what I say I mean, 

no reading between the line, 

half guesses, if ands, or but’s unanswered, left unassured, unsecured or defiled in my labeling to measure the kinks. 

My word is not untangled from my bond, my word is essentially, effortlessly, effectively and exceptionally my word, 

my tie, 

my pleasure, 

my pride

my bond.

POETRY By Tamara Dorsey-Moore

Thinker on the Loose

Copyright (c) 2017 Reserved purposes intended. Reblog


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