The gorse withers on the ground
The Sun is autumnally thin
Silence hithes in blue
Those roughshod days
are scattered with the leaves
Schemes are forgotten
Feelings disposed Into the chamber
of nothingness do we ascend
Lamenting Guitars are trickling
And the lamp lightly lit
We have come to dream
I can be something of a ham,
take my energy or leave it;
Here’s the deal I am what I am;
Imperfectly immaculate
is the vibe I aim to transmit;
Addictive I have no gateway;
Left so hungry with a tidbit,
come feed on a seasoned entree.
The gorse withers on the ground
The Sun is autumnally thin
Silence ties in blue
Those roughshod days
are scattered with the leaves
Schemes are forgotten
Feelings disposed
Into the chamber of nothingness
do we ascend
Lamenting
Guitars are trickling
And the lamp lightly lit
We have come to dream
I ordered my whole gourmet restaurant staff
to serve my pals Molly and Max Giraffe
I humbly have to admit
the vegan meal was a hit
The tall order sparked a jaffy good laugh
oh …
such fine things be mine, and more
should I slip through your cellar door
yet all that wonder, sweet and south -
but frosting to ... your melting mouth.
Copyright © Gregory Richard Barden, September 25, 2022
Translucent juices flow
forth with each syllable,
every moan,
a heightened affair,
every groan
a chance for repair,
We've made reparations
reading independent declarations
knowing we are free
but always a slave to this.
Touching you ever so subliminally
you becoming more
friend than enemy
confiscating all your energy
You hate the way I do this to you
Every word
your body devours,
Ordering from my menu
requesting, "Desire
on desire with a large diet
desire to drink."
Go ahead,
let me taste your reply like
Me, Oh, we,
Oh my...
You've been quite
the surprise
Sweet frangrance of savador
Savor preciously before the door
Wind that transform humanity
Above their cackling insanity
Pool-entree through the poetry
Entranched perfectly to enrich luxury
Not in empheral form but forever
In equilibrium between life and nature
He stands tall like the sun to nurture
He brings future time today and stay
Spreading his wings in admonishment like ray
Poetry lives after his creator
Like a little child, he glows and shines
Beholding perfection on earth above the stars
Pool-entree to poetry, art of life
One who lives after the creator has gone out of life.