The world is in reverse,
we felt so sorry for the Jewish
of their anguish...
of Hitler and evil
But their vengeance
is 10 times fold
and killing
the innocents
starving
little children
and NATO does nothing,
You can't say the word
evil
without the word
Devil.
I wish I was never born
into this story so told
to sheets that fold...
with those so bold
are left in the cold.....
This world is not mine,
I gave no permission
in fine ink so fine,
from birth to the end...
Tots waddle to the throttle of life...®a©e®s...start your engines!
Human nature takes wobbly steps forward >>>
Each clumsy effort supported to maintain balance$
Space and times collide *×*
Perpetual motion prevails...®a©e®s...engines revved!
Adulthood rapidly approaches!...Lord help us survive till they move out!
Chance encounters...on and off the computer °}©{°
Experimenting with forbidden fruits @ hormones.com/applejacks
Concerned parents patrol computer...once they figure out the password ?+?=?
Alcohol and weed are soon dating...huh?...what did you say?...uuh...huh?
Driving home with the ***** in their eyes!
Except...they're still in park!!!
Too much ghanja juice dulled their drive ° ° °
Spaced out at space station number: 5
September reaches into the soul
Comforting so that it makes me feel whole
activation codes
energy frequencies move
touch surface trace form ~
… do you love me, woman
it is cloudy in this street
as that sandalwood perfume
stretching between our arms
here everything of it is gone
with the floods and good
you are the only tree left behind
and love is the dewdrops
even the axe that cuts them
into pieces, remains a noble soul
falling slowly from the last leaf
to the bare ground of mire
somewhere in the mist behind the bridge
a brain is smouldering with the request
to return this soul
to its former position
and retains its fragrance
in the trap, unaccompanied
thinking about a lover is sweeter than kissing
because love is not feeling
and I cherish that moment in itself
when I am alone but through a subsequent passage
that’s why I illustrate
your perfume filling the dig we create
woman, do you still love me
I’m one of the connexions, though really why
it should be, after all, is none so apparent
your body is a cloth I wear
in this cold weather I’m
struggling with my broken left leg…
. * *
* * ***
* * *****
* * ******
* * ******
* * *******
* **************** nothing but blue skies *
/ * /* /******* /* /* /* /* /* /* /* /* /* /* ****
* * ************ the landscape is a surprise *
********** the route this plane flies *******
* *
* *
* *
* *
* *
* *
number to call in case you are mad
but what if you are glad? what if you are glad?
You may call it also if you are sad
But where is the number to call if you are glad?
The razor;
It slipped
Leading to
Unexpected consequences.
The redness
Splashed and spread,
Splashed and spread.
Driving down the black tongue
Of the desert highway
Mirages rise
Like pools of water on the highway
Reflecting even the sky beneath
Suddenly, a darkness arises
A flatness on the pale horizon;
There is no time or purpose to slow down -
It rises, and engulphes the world
We move into it
And it
You were a poem with bad grammar.
I revised you in my mind
until your hands almost made sense.
You touched me like punctuation—
brief, deliberate,
never intending to be part of the plot.
And I let you,
because absence feels cleaner than false presence.
Another name in the drawer.
Another night I slept skinless.
The body is so forgiving
when you lie to it beautifully.
If in all innocence
broccoli brings out flatulence
not to dwell but how many unfortunate smells
will it impart from a single floret
and in the end when it rends
does it sound like a bassoon or clarinet?
And what about the brussel sprout?
No doubt it will create heady fallout
and if on the quiet you ever diet or fast
as you are and repeat all you eat
this gas too at last shall pass.
Also the humble cucumber
which on you may do a number
what light wind
breaks through yonder soft butt?
Smile if while seated at the dinner table
as you may be able to blame the mutt.
CATOGORY LOVE
-------------------------
to inspire: Capsaicin Anaheim
__________________
It completes the sound
it makes itself perfect
it's recommended to those who who love
and those aspire to be loved
I must apologize
I became bored with you
knowing what you'd say often
lead me to be with others
It's exactly what you think
and true to form
might you forgive me
that I shall heed Cupids
call might you say you'll be my woman
I must beg the wealthy and poor
to gift you
the humbled companion
I'm your humbled companion
that It stresses me to
find you not wanting me
yet the next day shall begin anew
often
or more so than what anyone could
understand
Could you love me
and be in love with me
so we can be one together
Love and relationships
work and life
a true understanding
trusted in thought
best to believe
could you trust me again
and marry me?
Twenty sit-up
and a BigBurgerDeluxe
at Slappy's Burger Joint
Dolce Drinkers Specil
Number Twenty Won
Nothing But A Number!
Don’t speak of sorrow, don’t pretend..
You were no lover, not a friend.
I gave you chances through every tear..
You traded love for someone near.
You lied with ease, you cheated more..
While I stood aching at your door.
Tanya in Denmark, then Laura’s bed..
You stitched your guilt where I bled.
You spun your tales and smiled wide..
While hiding all the things you lied.
And now you say your heart feels pain?
You can't lose what you never claimed.
I loved you past the lines you crossed..
But I was found where you got lost.
You wore my trust and let it fall..
But you never really had me at all.
So keep your sorrow, wear it well..
It fits you more than truth could tell.
To you, I was just flesh and name..
A number scored in a losing game.
Streetlight dander. Jawbone asphalt.
Blink razors carve her iris script.
Rib stars ovulate in feral grates,
mechanical tongue juts a bloodline breath.
Keystroke ruin writes in collapse,
a waveform lodged in sternum glass.
Lipsticked rodeo—a gash in faded denim
Banana-knuckled hands torch filterless ghosts.
Tree-call through copper root systems.
Wire-pluck storm,
vapor chews the stock market
Cancer caught in molar hush,
brined in citrine static.
She opens her throat like a coin purse.
Spine bows in semaphore.
We dismount the edge—
An incisor cusp,
the confession still blistering
beneath the flesh of no language.
Numbers change,
years fly by.
I observe internal changes
with curiosity,
pleasure and interest,
with less interest,
no pleasure in external ones
well, here it is
I'm moving on...
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