THE voice of winter
so warm today
and burned me apart
To where love begins
in shallow rose boughs
Spring came so soon
stripping me upon the
ground: love’s eyes
risen before morning’s
sun.
:: 12242015 ::
THE voice of winter
so warm today
and burned me apart
To where love begins
in shallow rose boughs
Spring came so soon
stripping me upon the
ground: love’s eyes
risen before morning’s
sun.
:: 12242015 ::
Carry on carry on
love is bright like a diving dove
and we’re so messed
-up all overboard (oh i know i know
,i know hello?) missed your last
kiss-calling text it’s so sweet to
see you in a smart-
phone-bologna world and hello?
Hello? Hello?
My fresco heart moving
panting-painting assured bury the last time
when we kissed feeling stupid
i was a cutthroat love bleeding in your
cabbage garden of mere seeds of lust –hey
hello, hell, hell, hello//
we’re so overboard (hello) so over-torn
and the bee spits out nectar, and the robin
her egg and the monster it’s tears
hello, it was not as worse as last night
when little tribes from the forest marched
forth to burn the world//in the night-time
we’re so loose and so stupid all for albino
all for freedom! Yeah! Give me 4 olives
to sing about the werewolves in London
yeah.
:: 12240215 ::
Your lips express loving me
exploding rainbows
your eyes saw what i am
your heart grew out into
a blue ocean — all for
(hey) marry me
white sands between our
hearts
the ring of summer kissing
just all of my skin
seagulls tell him
waves show him
shores be me
where he crawls upon
and into the night
we are out on the town
saying, ‘marry me’
hey hey imagine me
with you if i say
i sat my sights on you
then it’s gonna be
your lips expressing me
all in a day on the beach
so marry me hey hey
a hot white beach with
deep blue waters saying,
“marry me’
oh this night is so magical
you married me
all in a day on the beach
so married me oh oh
a hot white beach with
deep blue watered dolphins
singing, “marry me!”
:: 12202015 ::
AND i should become this sweet death
that i may have failed you!
As breathing as faithfully as angels
weeping upon my arm slowly with pinkish
ponderous slender clawing fingers
it is my heart that aches but my
mind and body trembles for such lost
With her breathing as (lost) faithfully
her low necked soul-dressed within flowers
as silent shoulders
wishing a deep pause of terrible dreams
dreaming love and tenderness spreading
through spring’s fields of this heart
that never changes : i am Summer!
and as my dreams come
come, sweet death!
:: 12182015 ::
my tender heart speaks
and i listen but cannot
believe those words:
“the building of my life
was upon fire and i
had no escape!”
:: 12182015 ::
So, what if my childhood was full of drama?
Did it (maybe) twist my soul into a pretzel
or a mobius strip of confusing mental traffic?
Anyway, who the hell am I talking to, maybe you
but more likely myself while I’m trying to loosen
these ties around my body (mental hospitals of
the mind are worst than physical ones).
And how long my skin has contained my brain
but never my mind — a strange roof, thinking of love,
words, and sex.
And my mother — a fish that swam away and her heart
resembles a touch of frost like a frozen lake within a
forgotten mountain range and within my most
sacred dreams everything is beautiful and nothing hurts!
And Bradbury swears, “it was a pleasure to burn”
\and flesh of 1.61 feels it’s a bit dramatic to think
beauty is over-rated by any golden ratio but the most
tender lover would never say to her that nature is by
far the most beautiful creature!
:: 12182015 ::
THERE’S a joke in the smoke from the burning tires
a philosophical popsicle melting on the sidewalk
(like, who knows) and frankie from the land
of yankees is a bit cranky but rita hayworth says
she wants to rob a bank to steal all the steel
magazines that hold the souls of the old
— fools who held up the silver screen long ago
Hollywood, Florida not SC, AL, or Maryland
Hollywood, Florida uh huh
and sophia has a 30 millimeter
lester holds a steering wheel
within his calloused hands
me and rita have blood in our
burning souls and this version
of this poem will not be here
long — already gone it’s already
gone like the last moment when
i said this is a story about a
story so true within a story
of truth in the middle a story
full of lies.
:: 12182015 ::
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