Long Pastes Poems

No more faxes, no more phones                             ...

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No more faxes, no more phones                             ...

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the cause of spreading over of the fragrance
from our secret myrobalan to every side of the pillows
is not only such that in the morning 
an empty ink-pot says to the rain-water 
you are beautiful 

it...

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*Old poem that I forgot I wrote. Haha. I don't think it's as good as the last one I uploaded but I'm behind so here you go*

REMEMBER
 
Beauty is a state of mind
 
That envelops...

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The morning paper is everywhere, the breakfast dishes, are here and there
Her feet up in the easy chair, the old man in his underwear
The phone starts ringing loud and clear, so hubby quickly disappears
When he...

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O glorious Autumn of melancholic 
Gold -
All abouts the brightly lit
Woodlands
Your wonderful artistry behold!
Tinted bronzes,
Darting between awkward firs
Of sobering Evergreen,
Loiter inside mauve havens
Splashed with palest yellows -
And dappled with many differing 
Limes
Throughout this variegated Theme;
A...

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Ever touched a cactus?
When your grandma said, don't touch it
And your curious heart just couldn't listen
Then, your lil rosy hands set their fingers
On that green plant,
For a second, nothing happened
And your racing heart relaxed
But then...

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This is me.

This is me.
Not caring so much about caring,
but still caring.
Because to be labeled sane you'll have to care.
And still I'm falling short of prerequisites placed upon me by your judgemental faces, my life...

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Icarus Wings 


IN our quest for scientific exploration can we ignore with indication of failure 
coming?

as we turn back the clock to enter time machine once more?

the age old story of one Icarus flying.

How he...

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Climb those many stairs, up to the stars.
“Cut!” Comes the child, the wee Pinkerton.
Stunt double, doubles down, with plethora of scars.
Fate is what it is, bumps, bruises...sorta fun.

Pinkerton rolls and bounces, ooches and ouches.
Then they...

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he crawls in the filth,
struggles to climb,
finding a convenient spot
he branches out.

begins...perhaps 
the most baffling of all processes.

when done...dormant.
he will be prey for predators of all kinds

as time passes, 
as minutes count the hours...the hours the days
he beats the odds, success is...

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Whenever someone is referred to as the nicest it is you they mean,
You are also one of the most intelligent humans ever seen,
Not acknowledging your goodness is like committing a sin
Your greatness throws the best...

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Unlock your life’s padlock and turn not hands of time
Whether lemonade from lassitude lemons
Tastes awful, text messages irritate the mime
Your rate unfunny as savoury sermons

Scare daylights out of the bittersweet life you live
Regardless of storms...

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soak up the side streets of Montmartre, 
Paris, 	Pigalle on Boulevard de Clichy
class less 	art combusts	then drips 

- street beggars & tourists cant

writer Rubbish pastes   lace traceries
ala mode 	decoupaging decay 	
his cut-paper layers	grace	...

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night yet clings
yet smothers the numb highway

breathe the wheel
sigh through the gears
wave-ride rubber after-shocks
follow the beam-eyed light
into the blossoming gray

adjusts to blacktop rapids
the sky is passing
it is now ahead of itself
convertible clouds weep dry tears

slip-slide...

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Bottled peppers, pickles, plums, old ladies stand
In small flock at the market gate
Their bottled things arrayed, their pastes and jams
Fruit that hung all summer fat then autumn picked
Mushed and melted, now fills random jars
And on...

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Even if the road ahead is difficult
Even if I have to give something up
Push forward
Unnoticed light accompaning us

What's your price? Abandon faith.
Will you give up? Abandon certainty

Navigating the godless twilight world
Full of indelible circumstances
Is it...

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Are you frying today? No? Not at all? An attempt to pull the frying pan out would be better off left alone as other plates could fall. Oh dear. The frying is best done outside...

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The drive is not short
Right, left, right turn at sleeve’s font
Four people a prayer hold

Mona Lisa cried
Her left cheek pastes a wet smile
Her right wet hand hid the time

But, she typed her line
Using her mouse...

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September 29, 2012
---------------------
Trickling down slowly,
Over the ridges of old scars,
The fresh blood descends
Replacing the unshed tears
The newly opened wounds breath in pain
Dark circles, bags, outline the hollow empty eyes
They stare back in utter self hatred...

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Temptation Itches On All Living Things

Temptation itches on all living things
often nobody knows just how it stings,
not the icky-glues in its sticky pastes
nor the rotten fruits in its wasted wastes.

She the vixen nobody could resist
her...

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Night clings.
You sigh through the gears,
wave-ride after-shocks,
follow stretched-out beams
into the first gray unveiling
of the light

The sky can now be seen
shadowing itself.
Clouds weep dry tears,
and yet leave puddles
around your eyes.

A cloaked dawn
squints,
flickers weakly over the lower...

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Fashion cover girls these days make me sick,
All haggard and thin, they look like a stick.
Picking on South Beach diets to trim flat waists         
Do they have...

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Three letters for an infinite send off,
It ironically pastes the five letter word of another meet up.
As hallo departs and bye arrives,i realize that weathering too occurs in the heart.

Your T.L.C fades by the augment...

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bloods curdle into sour pastes,

touches reek of bitter tastes,

an unethical monster,

a lustful devil,

an insult to society.

 

a burning heart and soul laced,

two lips and her happiness blazed,

but what about her?

she who walks home to hell,

a...

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