I'm writing this long letter
to a mysterious stranger,
I'm staring at her beautiful picture
with some tingling sense of rapture!
Patty lives in Bloomington, Indiana;
it's such a lovely town, not like Elmira
where homeless people roam and sleep
on sidewalks and apartments are cheap!
We've never met and exchanged glances,
I can imagine when that actually happens;
our warm hands won't keep from touching,
our joy can surely be expressed in feeling!
Patty lives in Bloomington, Indiana
it's hundreds of miles away and Diana
can't wait to move there with Danny,
they both adore their new-born baby!
I'm a city rambler and I'm used to people's jeers,
and moving fast I tread on the wide city streets;
silence drives me nuts, noises is what I crave:
it's good for the solitary guy hiding in the cave!
Patty lives in Bloominghton, Indiana;
all I have is this photo and a single wish
that she might write back and not swish
this silly dream whenever I lie to Sara!
Categories:
bloomington, anxiety, beauty, betrayal, city,
Form: Lyric
They giggle upright, albright, these days
They are doing quite well
And wellness is not an overnight cameo
Or a clearance clothing deal
Some are awakened, some are healed
Some are some over maidens in a mending
meant mending around normal and Bloomington
They all meant Tora, a wishing well
To bring back the bird hoodhood, again!
8-11-2024
Categories:
bloomington, addiction,
Form: Free verse
If fifteen pigeons circle a chimney it is no time to light fires. It would be very very dangerous indeed. Feather fires flake flames finale. And a sweep of soot is not an avenue of mature beading. Antelopes occasionally make great butter in large urns. But quantities of flashing serpents is not a quarterback or an orange quantum theory. Danger of losing numbers then. Outnumbered are outstanding and occasionally octagonal oceanographic octopi sing in caves to the tunes of the tidally adjusted clam who arrive with plates of curries at a prawn ballroom. Hahahaha Bloomington Abbey hahahaha derogatorily did differently. Hahahaha *** existentialism z
Categories:
bloomington, bible,
Form: I do not know?
If fifteen pigeons circle a chimney it is no time to light fires. It would be very very dangerous indeed. Feather fires flake flames finale. And a sweep of soot is not an avenue of mature beading. Antelopes occasionally make great butter in large urns. But quantities of flashing serpents is not a quarterback or an orange quantum theory. Danger of losing numbers then. Outnumbered are outstanding and occasionally octagonal oceanographic octopi sing in caves to the tunes of the tidally adjusted clam who arrive with plates of curries at a prawn ballroom. Hahahaha Bloomington Abbey hahahaha derogatorily did differently. Hahahaha *** existentialism z
Categories:
bloomington, art,
Form: I do not know?
i am from you have to work for it
from worthless and invisible
i am from hatred.
i am from 7
from black and white
i am from not begin accepted for who i am
i am from you are who you are for a reason
from depression to anxiety
i am from i want to be happy
i am from Spanish
from puerto Rican to dominican
i am from slang
i am from Michigan to Indiana
from drugs and alcohol abuse
i am Tiffany (12.22.11)
i am from grandmas house
from Christmas tree to scary costumes
i am from big celebrations
i am from don't talk back
from sleeping in
i am you fend for yourself
i am from the heart and soul
from beat and rhythm
i am from hip-hop and r&b
i am from jeep music
from slow jamz to gospel
i am music
i am from Illinois
from small town
i am bloomington
i am from two human begins
from the womb inside my mother
i am Ayanah
Categories:
bloomington, abuse, addiction, best friend,
Form: Free verse
The rain cascades over the roofs of stone
The wind sways their foundations as they start to groan
I walk on the paths in aimless direction
These are the places I shared my affection
Cream for the innocence with which my heart is filled
Crimson for the scars, and all my blood I've spilled
I continue with my winding sojourn
And lightning illuminates what I have learned
The loves that have come and gone
Or the pain that just keeps marching on
I pass the creek in which I'd like to drown
And the trees where my body could be found
But the storm lets up, and stars fill the sky
The beauty I see won't allow me to die
Categories:
bloomington, introspection,
Form: Free verse