Category Archives: #1800s
MY confession : what be it may
stately said I do adore
hedonistic lore and my passion
borders beyond the day of light
into a fray some may fright
But at the end of any day
a brilliant sun and nymph of light
rules out all it is my sweet
love for life
::01/20/2014::
Leave a comment | tags: #art, #between, #eye art, #eyes, #friends, #love, #oh, #poet, #poetry, #prose, #strawman | posted in #1800s, #art, #artists
no need
for military solutions/police
::please oh please::
the holy church ___
if we say this first, ”
if i ever lost faith within Life
i lose faith in YOU
oh yeah, within you & me FAITH
so say this and much worse
we drink the water of Life
(oh look oh there she goes
i stared within a greatest sunshine)
no need
for poets, artists nor me —
I closed my eyes to EXIST.
:: 07.16.2020 ::
no need to eat politicians
if the world has faith in
dough
Leave a comment | tags: #baby, #brain, #forever, #glow, #heaven, #ink, #my head, #pencil, #poetry, #prose, #walls, #youth | posted in #1700s, #1800s, #1900s, #1970, #4:20, #a hundred poems, #abstract, #abuse, #aching, #adult, #afterlife, #alter, #aphasia, #Apocalypse, #apocalyptic, #bees, #Beethoven
DEFINITELY a few minutes ago
: walked within your footsteps/
walking — oh, walking in your
footsteps\ hey mister, i would
not ask for more (i would not walk
within those foot steps) but could you
sing to me about how mighty brontosaurus
died even built three stories high: he
would never hurt a fly…
Execelsus
walking within those same footprints
are my own foot-steps…
:: 07.16.2020 ::
Leave a comment | tags: #flag pole, #horror, #painting, #poetry, #prose, #rain, #soul, #souls, #spirit, #sun, #weather, #word, #words | posted in #1700s, #1800s, #a hundred poems, #abstract, #broken hearts, #broken prose, #broken soul
SO…
WORDS are dying everyday
(within my mind) LOVE i gave
too much (sometimes)
the weather is us ||
and science an empty heart ||
LOVE, we shared our lives
for a time: i command your
face is the way it was in
grand facade and without notice
i am always complete with
knowing i saw the Light & Heat
within your eyes / so WORDS:
to express so much wasted
pain & these moments keep slipping
away
:: 07.16.2020 ::
Leave a comment | tags: #hypnotized, #ink, #news, #paper, #poetry, #prose, #rope, #tied, #words | posted in #1700s, #1800s, #1900s, #1970, #4:20, #a hundred poems, #abstract, #analysis, #antics, #be, #beating heart, #fascination, #fashion, #fatalistic, #flowers, #got to wild, #goth, #gothic, #moments, #monkey, #new sound new word, #night, #night scene, #nights, #no forgiveness, #pace, #pain, #paint tubes, #powers, #prayer, #precocious, #predator, #prescription, #presidents, #puzzles, #quantum, #queen, #queer
within THAT part of humanity
that responds to all threats
we tell ourselves: we shall
bury you ; beneath our tears
i scream toward my little boy
run and hide across all
political fences ::we share all
same biology:: regardless of
ideology / if history was
a President there’d be no such
thing as subscribed views |
my sweet butterflies
my royal golden bees
my children are this world
we share such the same
and wishing God too.
:: 07.16.2020 ::
Leave a comment | tags: #authors, #common sense, #editors, #ideology, #ignorant, #ink, #leaders, #poet, #poets, #political, #president, #prose, #publishers, #science, #toy | posted in #1700s, #1800s, #1900s, #1970, #4:20, #a hundred poems, #abstract, #aching, #adult, #afterlife, #Ages, #all of me, #all we are is all we are, #please, #poems, #poet, #poetess, #poetry, #poets
In this past I remember crickets &
flies indiscriminately conflating
phylum and Genus. Whether my flesh
within Babylon or Bayonne–
tonight is the toast of this Night:
Herr Ludwig Van Beethoven
his anger and brilliance could bore
kind hearts but his sugar notes and
finesse of the keyboard was charity
and progress — so sick am i within
all these strange looks […]
we saw and heard and were all these
sick happy heaps of children on the brink
of pleasant discovery.
:: 07.04.2020 ::
Leave a comment | tags: #love, #poetry, #quiet, #say, #shadows, #some, #wishing, #words | posted in #1700s, #1800s, #1900s, #1970, #4:20, #a hundred poems, #abstract, #love, #poetry, #poets, #words, Love, Poetry
Hemingway, i smell your cigars
like when you had a friend
shoot a cigarette out your mouth
so i smell what you are
words burning sheets of
paper like i hate me and so like my heart –>
Emily Dickinson; weed dipped in alcohol
made bees buzz your brain
plus heroin caused
time to freeze so that carriage of death
would stop for you And I’m the lonely one
who knows it hates my untouched soul
i leave it for the angels who should rape me
and take my soul into their den!
:: 03-28-2015 ::
i moved somethang around
Leave a comment | tags: ##poetry | posted in #1700s, #1800s, #1900s, #1970, #4:20, #a hundred poems
HAVE you never
ever walk
-ed the edge of
fields so yellow
they smell of Gold?
–the wheat fields
of Vincent Van Gogh
he was a bastard
to most but greatly
to ‘self’ –>kill
the personality
but never the Art
nor the Soul
:: 04.29.2020 ::
Leave a comment | tags: #art, #color, #emotions, #Gogh, #poetry, #soul, #Van Gogh, #words | posted in #1800s, #abstract, #art, #heart, #hearts
i have allowed the world
to rape me with its eyes
and with thoughts they have
stabbed me through.
be kind be grateful
i have heard these voices pray
a shattered-like brown preserving
jar broken too;
a squashing pressure perturbing
my heart ~ a *Family Cherry Stoner
making six goblets redder than life
a condiment bottle for my tears
a broken doll upon crutches
fixing it’s wooden puzzles
And my bed, the gathering basket
upon the bread which lay my Soul;
and there i go! Falling upward
and begging so!
:: 05-29-2017 ::
*(Circa 1880-1900: advertised as “The Family Cherry Stoner,” the cherry pitter–intended to remove the stone without squashing the fruit was a popular kitchen item).
Leave a comment | tags: #poetry, #victorian, #words | posted in #1800s, #1900s, #victorian
ALL the world is S T R A N G E
and if you take a LIFE it will
be your own ~
watching burning
angels falling from high
//All your life you’ve
armed yourself
\ \ and no other can deny
all of the ghosts
and dead lovers who follow
you AND when you think you’ve won
the game played wasn’t life — the
game played was a cerebral death
AND LAY ME TO REST
(love betrays you)
this pure heart! ~ all within the palm
of several thousand days gone by!
:: 11-18-2016 ::
Leave a comment | posted in #1800s, #poets, #remember, Uncategorized
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