Sticky melon juice
Drips down potbellied toddlers
Dirt and dust encrusts
Lichen adhered to tree's trunk encrusts its capacity
Patches of debauchery, bumpy story depicts warts
Climb skyward inhibited by extra growth grotesque
A habit steers without cognition, clutched roadmap
Tipple ripples laughter beneath a turbulent fountain
Frantic factory produces smoothly upon first guzzle
Unified aim wastes chaos, pours tranquillity on dust
Pasted nerves pacified stick with visions of Nirvana
Ego free to abandon its cage, street stomp rampage
Drank moderate half bottle is replaceable tomorrow
Appears bearing beseechment of devilish yesterday
A sip didn't administer mist thick enough to sleep on
Thimble begins ruined resolve, vat improving futures
Quantified estatic elation equivalent to liquid imbibed
Reign of rib rub anointing sterilises dried callous cuts
Sun stream runs nude nonchalant in dim changeroom
11th February
Innibriated
Pacific beautiful sleeping flowers
Accentuated by great diamond white towers
Radiant many agile butterflies
Accompanied by incredible golden pavements that makes treasure-lovers cry
Dainty darling dazzling stars and a dangling debonair moon
Illuminating pleasant terrace floors with angelic looks
Seducing many ecstasy-lusting sights
Enchanting ebulliently with an elegant view that encrusts the sun's bright light
Now comes November's chill and gale,
when northern winds must oft' prevail.
We feel its frost and sense the spurn
as seasons yield to winter's turn.
How long until the first deep snow,
when ice encrusts the river's flow?
On each clear night the chill runs deep,
while cold stars watch each family keep.
A dormant season soon will cast
its shadow on green mem'ries past.
This month of gray and in-between
still has a gilded, silver sheen.
Thanksgiving's grace will soon bestow
its warmth so grateful hearts may glow.
November brings a wintry blast,
and ends with Holiday repast!
Come November
11-5-14
the trees now lay
deluded in their thrall,
in the blood and chaos
of a blackened corpse
after reading the ashes
on the ground
they offered nothing
but spirals of smoke
the dog has been
long buried
the leash and collar,
rust in the dirt
as soil encrusts it
in our anguish
glass shards
of a glittering face
scattered
with the four winds,
and nary a whisper
the silence of heaven
and depth of hell,
now cast no reflection
the mirrors are silent
and without a ripple
I issue invitation,
as quiet finds me
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