Adventure Time Poems - Poems about Adventure Time

transcend dents of time

opposite my upstairs relaxation chair
window-corner be a pendulum clock

...above a low shelf-cabinet
and below a black and white
buddhist meditation image...

the pendulum keeps swinging
but the reading doesn't change

...reflecting that a time reality
be as our heart keeps ticking
and we sew mental concepts... 

that can be set to one side
because time be of constants
that transcend and dent all

changes in

sub-track

time's sub-tracks tie-me
to a now

that's as some...

pre-sent present pressing
to pass-age in

a timeless aware-nest


stans sand

Time

Time could have the answer to all questions 
So everytime you fail don't be disheartened 
Shy away your fears and cure your lesions 
It is time that tells the moment for redemption 

Time is a treasure, plentiful but scarce 
But many people fail to realize 
There is too much time spent for wasting 
Yet they

Time-Item

(...t...i...m...e...) bubbles...

i met me time-tie
...item-tie...
time-item me


stan sand

The Bard of Ancient Smyrna

After enjoying a pleasant walk, I then spent an hour at a park,
And I relished the dulcet sounds, of cheery airborne skylarks.

The blooms were so lovely, all sultry in the fervid sunshine,
And the hummingbirds were in bliss, with their tour of daytime.

Ducks upon the cool clear lake, gaily uttered the solitary word,
As the thunder retains

Adventure Time

Now I will tell you a story.
Some of it might even be true.
But that is for you to decide.
Once I took a trip around the world.

In a hot air balloon.
For sure I went past the point of no return.
As I left my footprints in the sand.
And swung on ropes tied to the moon.

Swam with the

Better Than Today

I can’t be the best in this field
But this isn’t the game of stardom
This is the first step of excursion
Now I’m going beyond the borders

Pain is not a struggle nor weakness
This is the way of knowing oneself
It may not be now nor tomorrow
But I’ll be better than today

The start may be the hardest
But the end

Free

There is a beautiful world
Couped up in my head.
I'd love to share it with you,
but I keep it bottled up instead.

There are so many things
I'd like to do and to say,
but like every other time
I say "some other day."

I need to live in the moment,
live in the here and now.
The only problem I foresee,
is that

Fantasies

i guess we are  fantasies of the mind...
another place another time ...
embraced, in kind but set in place,
 where hearts and love is kind...
solace,  
fantastic connection of the mind...
embraced ...
where we are joined time all time 
n space.....xox

Don

Past the Point of No Return

I keep being asked why I'm returning
It's the love and memory's I've felt
The culture I feel I belong
Southern hospitality that reaches the heart

I've had many friends
and memories I'll never forget
It's time to make new ones
on this return

The hope I have
as little as it is
The joy I once felt
to experience again

It's my chance to start over

The Bloody Y

the bloody Y

their time on earth it was complete,
a gruesome death perchance did meet,
books now balanced, of  'sow n reap', 
come up a level Alice.
for your receipt,
of malice,
next time a better life to keep,
perhaps you earned a palace?

re: Russell Sivey,
'Murder in the Fog'

Don Johnson

Todays Music Newfaces

some come with motion
from over the ocean
and from the worlds
young boys and girls
they dance prance
and sing do many thing
that music world bring
from many racist
TODAYS MUSIC NEWFACES

A Long Wait

I had to wait in a line for a urinal one day.
This was during a home game in May.
In front of me was an example of a pipsqueak.
This little guy looked very worthless and weak.
What he did would seem very peculiar.
He voided enough urine to fill Lake Superior.
Standing behind this runt was no fun.
I wondered

The Tree

its big its wide
its city bright lights
on this night
its where to be
WHERE THE LIGHT UP 
THE  TREE

Summer Fun

 Soap bubbles float through mid-school breeze
that crack our giggles, to the playful night, 
we dab the sheen film on oak trees
or glue bobbed orbs on crushes’ kites

And vapor-like, our summers warmly wrap
the peek-a-boos squeaking tag games 
on moonlit field where foams eavesdrop;
inviting tricks without a shame

Long days collect more popping sprees 
as sticky piles

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