A crystal-pin prick at the beginning.
A monumental vagueness at the end.
The art of carving peace seems quite lost again.
In between granite slabs-a tangle of black tragedies.
Tiny clusters of downy light upon a peaceful being.
The selfishness of flesh drifting atop the brine.
In an endless maze of the triggered mind.
Where blue devils tap dance so raggedly upon God time.
Glimmers of glazed frosting levels,
enticing blissful specials,
scatters the blues of blue devils,
encased sailing vessels.
Rejuvenating windswept fresh,
limb held chirping bird thresh,
ever-changing flourishing mesh,
awaken breaths gooseflesh.
Spectacular melting winter,
beautician scene tinter,
the wood cord, no logs, just splinter,
skier last day sprinter.
Once in a blue moon.
being blue in the blue hour, and then:
'Damn it to blue blazes!' - out of the blue,
one may be just out of the blues.
For the true blue feeling gone,
walking away into the wide blue yonder.
leaving nothing but the blue devils themselves
who just keep on talking a blue streak
till one gets into a blue funk.
Like blue blazes, black-and-blue again
one gets stuck in one's own blue chamber
between the devil and the deep blue sea,
being blue around the gills,
keep on listening to the blue note
over and over again.
Teardrops in my palms
Shapeless, bitter emotions
I tried relentlessly to caress
The sour taste, warm touch
Burns my flesh.
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