Best Lessoning Poems

The lost Wonderland

Made me break down all at once,

But I learnt what’s real....

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Glowing days that were once red-cheeked and ripe with promise,
Are narrowing like tall candles in a church window,
Tapering from the golden stand and the sturdy...

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Jimmi cannabis sweeps,

toward deepening feet,

doesn't call a river to wash me out of the Sea,

I’m deepening the beat...

Jimmi Cannibis leaks-
lie’s of the beast,

jumps out a...

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As the storm rolls in, the thick dark 
clouds build up in the sky.
 
The extravagant pink, orange and yellow 
colors appear over the water...

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She cried somber tears with each sad suicide attempt, 
      delirious due to drunkenness as dying is what she dreamt.
Each...

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DREAM ON 
 
I dream on, from my dome to my chest
to my toes and to the tips of my palms. 
We dream on, in...

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Of what you know to be beautiful
never becomes a real thought,

of how you seek it out-
the lessoning of everything combined,

sanctimony as tree's can do when...

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So sweet
  The lonesomeness of the city light street
 has me hearing the sound of my heart beat,
 I quickly fall to sleep, I...

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Misty days and nights call my bluff.
Yesteryear was blinded rough.
We take chances ever so deep.
I myself listed in such sleep.
No winter, whether season or age.
Travels...

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When I walk, I can feel Your hand in mine because it's just, Your and I.

When I fall, I can feel You carrying me because...

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I watch the second hand on the clock.
Every tick and every tock is my life lessoning.
Amazed at how you can truly watch yourself die.
by every...

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Glowing days that were once red-cheeked and ripe with promise,
Are narrowing like tall candles in a church window,
Tapering from the golden stand and the sturdy...

Read more of this work...

Glowing days that were once red-cheeked and ripe with promise,
Are narrowing like tall candles in a church window,
Tapering from the golden stand and the sturdy...

Read more of this work...

I used to imagine that the body
was a sort of fleshy gospel, bound together
by mind and ligaments.
Years of smutch, and oily reduction,
daily, a thin scum...

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The junk drawer of my mind processes MOMENTO, like golden Ark Dulcimer, Cimbalom that shatters the font of unfinished sound, into pixels of mime, song...

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