WHEN mountains move
and sun dances
and rivers sing —
a melancholic
elegance my dreamy
charm;
the female sensitivity
that feather brush
upon my heart as
an angel’s wing!
your genius is within
your heart!
:: 07-21-2015 ::
WHEN mountains move
and sun dances
and rivers sing —
a melancholic
elegance my dreamy
charm;
the female sensitivity
that feather brush
upon my heart as
an angel’s wing!
your genius is within
your heart!
:: 07-21-2015 ::
AND summer feels folded
inside dreams of seasons
which clearly are you
the always ‘reason’ i
may-might express in all
drunkenness of this love
i have: AND if one
such is a fluttering
wing of precious white
dove feather as you,
i dream i express my
lips upon the paradise
of your virgin heart!
‘i’ is so small and yet
i is so large and what
of it? if love is me
then love clearly is
like-when i say hello
to you and you smile
and bite your lip
and i love you the more
most biggest ever of
my feeling!
:: 07-19-2015 ::
The waves are misty clapping
seas, lovvv–i—,ng some——
thing inside a roar |beating heart/
| Gogh once painted it
but decided on fields with
flowers and twirl-swirling
stars
enough to make me cry
:: 07-19-2015 ::
the conception of my
poetry is less a spark
than feeling
the feeling that i know
my emotions are true:
the truest thing in all
the universe i have friended
:something to never betray
but hold dearly and especially
while i write!
sometimes i scream
other times cry
and a few in anger
but when i write
i seem more than ‘me’
it’s the voice of
universality
:: 07-19-2015 ::
A Heavy molar likes to
hurt me so painful
sweet tooth in my
heart aches like
the tooth ache
and did you say
you are ashamed
don’t make me pull you
mister dentist says
you are so like me
loves sugar and coffee
:is it the trend of
living in shame
aaah! i really hate
to love you and we’re
really weak and smell
like lovers rubbing
on the mask of the
dentist pulling the
molar of our soul
:: 07-19-2015 ::
MY calm heart weeps
in all (did i say
express life?)
of this magnificent
day __ it is the fruit
of breakfast mornings
any m,erry berry pretty
(i shall awaken soon)
to this-day! \you and this
grand thought who-singsong
says –does do re mi
with her white three
stimpstamps) chokechump
singSpeckled brightendSKIN
strut:scratch-scrutch
moi bay be daz lovely
YOUR EYES are the world’s
oceans and that heart!
and i have forgotten the
five simple facts
— and simply: when we are
forever and not this ‘now’
i say we shall never be
the dead children of adults
so gently lay down your head
to dream(nothings) of || i
can begin to imagine
through mysterious mankind
locked in foreverish time!
::; ;07-192-15 ::
Frère Jacques, frère Jacques,
Dormez-vous ? Dormez-vous ?
In the morning sleeping dreams
wake me with pregnant ringing bells
Ding, ding, dong. Ding, ding, dong.
I’m so tired so tired my little friend
“Where did my life go?”
And the little girl in pink on a
bicycle says, “First tell me;
what is your monster?”
the cat has a voice eating me
and i’m so exhausted in this world
and cicada likes it’s voice
droning ding, dong, ding!
Found myself in a cemetery
“don’t be shy so come closer.”
And blue skies sins a tune
so familiar I should have known.
the lining of a coffin lost it’s
glue and smothers the breathing
death of a half-life corpse
I am on a date and everyone
collapses in applause realizing
that i know i am one of them
:the dead disbelieving life
and well does it matter if
9 month old babies laugh
at me?
:: 07-1/8/9-2015 :::
AND if tears (they are from me)
drop in descending
decay as time tick-tocking wishes –a
burning life cheated by fire called,
“I wish to be more this time”
what of “me?” and
my role models are
Mountains and vast Seas! and nothing by
flesh!
the dirt smells like the mother who
born me: all her musty loving scent
especially when after rains so wet and
borning other “others”
the fields are green
Today i am the ‘no one’ and yester-
day more and tomorrow?
:: 07-18-2015 ::
THERE, the hunger! When (sometimes i
never wish them) TH0UGHTS are born
i open my mouth to DEVOUR THE WORLD
in all it’s strange tastes || the how
is less strange as why –> ghosts like
me! I am the rare paranormal flesh
that sees and feels since I once read
the Book of Knowledge (elseWhere) and it
burned my brain and soul in the Akashic
Library — the garden is beautiful and the air
has music within it’s space and light is living
and souls sprout up from the ground like children
grinning for a kiss!
:: 07-18-2015 ::
DID anyEVER hear patter-
pitter dripping tears
upon the vast roads
of New York City?
And roofs have steeples
as flowers petals
and beggars dreams
as pennies pockets
to sleep within
to taste a Dream
sometimes bitter
to eat a wish
so much sweeter!
And when those dripping
tears splat upon the
path of many-go-doers
it makes me the happy
didWHO someEVER seeBE
the heart who stops
to love it all?
:: 07-18-2015 ::
You must be logged in to post a comment.