I hate the way you smile
But I loved the love we rot
I hate these feelings piled
And i love the feelings caught
You taught me to be me
You broke me to be free
You fixed me up with glee
Now you break me down and flee
You gave me will to move on
But broke my will to start
Your heart deserves a new dawn
While mine remains apart
I gave you love to lean to
And you gave a poison kiss
I gave you hope to be soon
But you gave me life amiss
I lost the love I got you
And you lost the gentle smile
I kept the things you'd want too
But you tossed the memories to a pile
It Tickles Me
By, Fawn P.
September 6th, 2026
Stars dance,
They touch and hold,
They feel, and grab,
They watch the koi fish swim,
The moon is my anchor,
As i swim in the deep,
It’s lights my only guide,
warm yet empty,
It’s grip strong yet, gentle,
Guiding my tail it propels me,
I turn to the wind,
I lean to the smell,
Dust and wax,
Tickle my nose and tongue,
When the songs are soft,
and the world is dimmed,
I lean to the world,
To guide my movements,
The key to disrobing ego
so that divineness in us can grow
involves letting go of conceit
and allowing God’s light to glow.
As our fellow man we put first,
we’ll be letting go of our pride,
and by practicing self-denial,
we can lean to the righteous side.
It’s a matter of being humble,
being grateful and serving others.
Our love for God we can show
by loving our sisters and brothers.
It passed him by how much he spent to card tap happenings
old school drunk home found wrapped on the mat again
Take it back sacks honour cracks hes grappling tryna build facts past just like he clasp vasline
How's a man last with the past world grasping him
Stuck and holding fast only things flasks masking him
Sorrows or the horrors of his making turn directions
Choosing life or exit signs emergency protection
Last glass was half assed let's make this one a winner
No rent goodbye when roof is sky a bentos pie for dinner
Tryna lean to something just to calm his own beliefs
Knowing that to pass the time
he sleeps as light release
it is a hovel now, due to the work of a poltergeist
once a home, it is plunked in the middle of despair
the copper wiring was pulled out ten years ago
it is a vacated domicile which probably still house the jokester
no one has been inside for years; too many horror stories
We approach it from the east; in the background we see orange
at first I think there must be electricity, then I realize it is sun up
surely the poltergeist is gone, my companion says.
His voice is smiling, I can hear it.
He does not believe in malarky
There is an ambiance about this shanty I cannot describe
a feeling that has no name; I walk a bit slower now
reluctance is the closest name I can come up with
yet it is not enough; terror and fear and reluctance
I decide not to go inside; feeling the entity is still there
waiting with sharp teeth, ready to climb on my back
I fear he will return to my home and turn it into a lean-to
The white church lifts its fragile hands
Against the burning sky,
And hymns drift out like whispered prayers
Too tender not to die.
The pine trees lean to hear the words
Of grace and quiet fear,
While summer presses close with heat
And judgment drawing near.
A woman bows her careful head,
Her sorrow folded tight,
And hopes that God will read her soul
More gently than the light.
The preacher’s voice, a trembling flame,
Declares both love and loss—
A mercy wide as southern fields,
A shadow shaped like cross.
And somewhere in the gathered hearts
Where faith and longing blend,
A question blooms no hymn can still,
No certainty defend.
For even in the softest psalm,
Where hallelujahs rise,
There lingers doubt as quiet as
The floating dust in open eyes.
Form: The Vesper Step
The teapot pours out the sky,
The beetles hum us a tune,
We watch the clouds float on by,
And dine upon the pale moon.
I take your hand, the porcelain is smooth,
With every step, there is an ache you soothe.
We waltz above the moss and vi'let beds,
No other thoughts are living in our heads.
But when you lean to kiss my blushing cheek,
I see the metal 'neath your shirt,
I hear your hinges squeak,
It starts to hurt—
Click.
Electric Line's sway,
spider webs of industry
along a rocky lane under
a hot southern sun, cicada…
cry high, into the crystal blue sky
We are a ghost nation
of Man’s hypocrisy
crossing shadows under a hard
noonday sky.
The empty road under the leaning
Electric crosses of civilization
Shadows fall, carving silhouettes into
Upon hitting noonday ground
Humanity lost all reason
Along a rocky, dusty road
As day bleeds into a hot
Southern night
Crickets cry high
As the moon rides the
White galleons of cloudscapes
As star falls in infernal southern sky
Frogs sing the song of endless rain
As electric crosses lean
Under the halogen of streetlights
Crosses stand, lean to and fro
Like graves of the day
Souls drift and sway
As a nation is lost along the way
Bought and sold
While electric crosses align
A forgotten road
Of a Nowhere nation, undone…
Watching all fold…!
Cherries stain her fingers bright,
Deep and dark as midnight wine.
She pops them slow between her lips,
Her smile lazy, soft, divine.
The window's cracked to summer air,
The city sighing, fast asleep.
She smokes and laughs, her lashes low,
Her secrets folded warm and deep.
The cigarette burns slow and thin,
Forgotten in her careless hand;
I lean to kiss the cherry taste
And feel her breathing where I stand.
Her teeth are gentle on my skin,
Her lips a quiet, glowing spark;
She bites, she soothes, she bites again—
The night is soft, the hour dark.
The clock has stilled, the world is far,
Just cherry pits and curling smoke.
The moon is pale against the glass,
And every kiss a promise spoke.
We stay until the sky turns gray,
Our shoulders bare, our feet entwined,
And every cherry, every kiss,
Is sweet and slow and wholly mine.
You were sharp|ning grass
With your eyes | sit & fixed
Again | a substitute for mow|n
Machine chug|ging along lug
Nuts, molar friction | u - r - n .
Lawn stretches of up|beat
Beach | was there even wind?
Filet a cannonade me | see
The crayons fly | in a circle
A head | towards blu|er | stretches
There | where clouds resemble.
Light is a commodity, scream!
Silly | man | omnibus no teacher
Not even a man. Well still: Lorine
Niedecker e|merges like new
Breath, pulp come together
Mis|hearing cranes, a making
Multicolor wax, bending fuse
Forge |X| fissure for left foot |
Right foot,—we'll find a job a kind
Of game | it’s just planes turned
Paper crane | creosote guardians
A dead lean-to shouldering volts.
in the hush of dawn’s embrace,
where roses sigh in velvet bloom,
I found you waiting--soft and bright,
a whisper in the morning light
your laughter spills like silver streams,
your touch--a petal on the breeze,
each glance a spark, a silent vow,
a love that lingers here and now
the garden hums a lover’s tune,
sunlight bends to kiss your skin,
while roses lean to breathe you in--
their crimson blush cannot outshine
the warmth that blooms when you are mine
so let us dance where lilies dream,
where ivy twines and willows lean,
for in your arms, I’ve come to know
that love is more than roses grow
it’s in your voice, it’s in your gaze,
it’s in the way the whole world sways--
a garden vast, a sky above,
and you, my rose, my endless love
Grandstanders are crooks as far I can tell
Some grandstanders aren’t what can I say
A mixed system is needed I do yell
Dems weak and do zip homie. did foretell
Biden’s Israel mid-east plan good. I relay
Grandstanders are crooks as far I can tell
RNC foul;,get things done chum did tell
Ike did great things,Reagan too anyway
A mixed system is needed I do yell
Try the Green Party that party, I’ll sell
Green Party to quixotic , I do say
Grandstanders are crooks as far I can tell
Libertarian Party is quite swell
If they lean to left or right they be bad
A mixed system is needed I do yell
Most politicians certainly do “smell”
Is a multiparty system a fad ?
Grandstanders are crooks as far I can tell
A mixed system is needed I do yell
Walking the tightrope so narrow
Careful not to lean to either side
Public safety over here, freedom of speech over there
~ In the end, administrators so damned scared
I cannot deny my “yellowness”
Its golden edge slicing the sunshine
Causing the sunflowers to sulk
Although they claim residency
While I just blew into town
Nearby Jonquils aren’t impressed
Yet lean to take a look
I revel in my “yellowness”
Rest gently against the breeze
Beckoning the honey bees
They will tickle me tenderly
Gathering my essence
Promising my “yellowness” is safe
Just catching a fresh wind to another town
Thomas Hood said he recalled the house where he was born
He would not recognise it now, its structure is long gone
But as for me, and where I’m from, the house still stands today
Although my family home no more, I fear to pass that way
Time moves on and people change, I know that to be true
But memories from those four walls, they stick to me like glue
The garden toys, the trees to climb, the rickety lean to
The things that made me who I am, they echo through and through
We had our ups and downs, we did, what family does not
But on the whole we lived and laughed and read an awful lot
And after many years had passed, it came so clear to me
The things they went without for us, the things they made us see
I like to think I’m kind and fair, I try to do my best
Though never have I really had to put it to the test
So where I’m from, I have to say, the answer lies within
A drop of this, a pinch of that, mixed up inside my skin
And if anybody says to me, “who do you think you are?”
I’ll say who made me what I am and thank my lucky stars
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