ANTE GOING UP
POTENTIAL HORMUZ BLOWUP
COULD BE THE WARMUP
Monday morning blues, the hues from the rusted lantern sprinkle on the walls.
A shadow sways swiftly through the open door, into the halls.
The night prior, a monster filled the spaces in your head.
You seem to be a stain on the sheets, spilled ink upon the bed.
A heartbeat seems to be the only sound you can hear.
Well, my sweet angel… this is it — you’re in fear.
Winter Warmup
Cold
salad.
Cold! Salad?
Warming up, though
I thought, beforehand,
about warming soup. Soup?
Who needs to sip, now? I don’t!
My salad, topped with yesterday’s
tomatoes, dressed with ranch and fig, balm
of nutrition. I’ve warmed up to salad.
MUSIC WARMUP
footle
tootle
On that day
we found a squandered fate
in loving...
as it failed our inspiration
towards
the truth that our worlds need.
But who am i?
to speak of squandered fates
of love...
which pales in situations
where
we find our total evocation.
I am but one
who once did draw forth allure
from you
but in time the instigation
of lust
leaves all consumed in illusions...
And now you shall lie with another
caught up in a selfish pinned staunch agony.
with words now you roll with the tangents,
speaking devotion in sanctimony.
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