Boston    1982 -    71 followers
Keith Collard is an American writer much to the anger of others.

Gemini well after I die.

Keith Collard is an American writer much to the anger of others.

Gemini well after I die.

Keith Collard
Keith Collard
3 days ago

Go my husband, show the Romans how to die.

Poison will slip thru my lips,
As the gladeus slips your spine.

Go my love, give the Romans something to write,
Inhale the smoke, from the sacred Athenian grove,
The invaders burn, where we were pronounced man and wife.

Go my husband, show their might ~love is Etruscan,
That once ruled their tribe,
Look, the Roman General already wants a Greek wife.
And wants to spare your life,

Go...Show them how to die,
Our love will make their spears sigh,
After defeat,
They run into their own swords, held by their trusted centurion chest high.
After defeat,
We run into each others arms,
For the last kiss on this side,
The enemy can know,
We gaze forever into eachother with death's unblinking eyes,
Go my love, show them what we value in life,
Preparing for the last tragic nuptial,  
To find each other through the dark death night.

In the glaze,
of a lover's gaze,
in the iris,
I see the virus,
a petri floatin in a dilate haze,
Those dishes, are so delicious,
For my dna is nutritious,
But is love so viral,
As to absorb my spiral,
Rewrite in a different way,
Would  those dishes,
Still command my kisses,
If I chose to love,
At a distance,
Is love only a charming virus,
Do I have to be absorbed,
And be rewritten,
Cannot we be lovers,
Stenciled on  Grecian dishes,
Almost and never to touch,
Preserving love,
Forever smitten.

Keith Collard
Keith Collard
Mar 19      Mar 20

I love the nightlife, I love the lotus,
in the island that holds us,
campfire in our eyes as the fire smolders,
I love the nightlife, I love the lotus,
watching infinity wind down,
in the waves curling towards us,
no one from our ship has our voltage,
only born on our eclipse, will know this,
one foot in island's moon meadow,
where we picked the lotus,
then barefoot to infinity destroyed before us,
moonlight on dark tree line,
is our voltage,

campfire in our eyes,
campfire in our lies,
the fire holds,
due to the lotus folds,
which are our iris lines,

moon makes dark twined canopy porous,
then from white light into crashing chorus,
watching campfire,
eternal ripples destroyed before us,
surviving, recombining,
as a ripple in moon meadow's lotus.

Voracity is the centipede,
hunting in a-downhill-bleed,
pull what you think is a string,
to pitch your tent,
feel the centi clench,
and incision of dopamine,
your esophagus that screams,
could have had the segments and seams,
harking back to when the earth was steam,
when night jungle shines upon it,
with a red lens,
as it devours a tarantula,
adding a segment to its length,
sense the kinship,
sense the progenitor strength,
turn your red light on,
see the red esophagus of black chiton,
run for the zenith,
before the apex makes you bleedeth,
let your bayonet it bite on,
drop in alchohol,
and as a dragon,
it will soar and fight on,

beware the apex,
only the mountain,
set your sights on,
beware the early esophagus,
of red-neon, black chiton.

Snow Globe

Such wintry presents is incandescence, flakes shooting through magnificent lamp's orange glow, such a beauty contestant is my future love spotlighted below,
white wedding lace, is her hair that intercepts crystal snow.  I am her groom, dark in suit dressed in drifting bank's dark soak.
     Those flakes making westing, darting east, then on her hair are resting, in that orange incandescence, give foot prints no longer lone , and night chimes of metal creaking signs, remind  of just her and  I, and that is more than fine, for when weather vanes act insane, in that lonely night snow, and my prints are lone, she is in my heart staring up while standing on my toes,
wonderfully lonely when the streets are dead, under street lamps glow much magnificent, her snow flake lashes night sky has sent, our sole footprints in globes lonely presence, watching night snow turn incandescent.

Keith Collard
Keith Collard
Jan 4      Jan 4

It's ruined, random kiss,
mornings, sun, love renewing,
I sit on those sun bleached stones,
of our relationship's ruins,
toppled, symmetry of romantic Rome,
she says it's ruined,
but now we can be alone,
and with the palace undoing,
sunlight on her face has shown,
with the ceiling bluing,
sea breeze through her hair has blown,
ever pretty in my ruin viewing,
wall's wildflower for her I chose,
my love undying--stronger in ruins
holding hands to walk over stone.

Keith Collard
Keith Collard
Dec 29, 2013      Dec 30, 2013

hey playboy, I  like what you did
Just not what you do,
Hey playboy, dropping tears
On letter " its me not you"
clever letters, clever watermark,
Still smitten whats written ,
signing with fake teardrop on top,
Oh I clutch and claw,and still you part.
Hey boy all play, playing your life away,
I like what you do, not what you did,
He plays like you, you should see,
he makes then rakes
His sandbox family...
And not too far
from that goddam tree,
Oh playboy,
Your words and smile,
Make me hope for a breeze,
that took your apple far,
But it took you away from me,
Hey player, playing in your own play,
thought you would perform everyday,
driving and paying to see it,
will never know the feeling,
When curtain went to the ceiling,
Family, friends....your play I rave,
I curse the day,
I stared Into a dark deserted stage,
Hey playboy,
hey actor of "everafter,"
Busy writing a new play?
I like your acting,
playing is laughing,
Hey playboy,
Actor in his own play,
Will the show return one day?
The thrill and never still,
changing name playbill,
Assures a girl,
It never will.

ahh, the charm, laughing, acting..
....saline sadness,
Oh the affects of the cape,
Only to be a curtain trapping.

Written from phone, cannot find apostrophe and dash.
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