Look -- O’ look
The books we could be;
Seas of lumber
Slumber in dusty sleeves.
Thieves of the night
Write on our eyes;
Lies in the form of words,
Worlds in forms of home.
Some call it fiction,
Imagination calls it sanity
Gravity of our own two feet
Meet to stay alive.
“Strive” it tells me.
“Be all that you can and more.
Doors lead to windows,
Intros to the Galaxy.
Actually living more lives than one.
Undo the restrictions-
Dictions people have over you.
Few are even close
Most will never get there.
Here there is only you
Through the woods behind the books
Dreams in the night
Like a mysterious sigh,
Make me wonder
who passes by.
Dead eyes wonder
through the vague purple tone,
Of a lost soul
looking for home.
I long to touch you
with my likeness of love,
And be the one
you always think of.
The beauty of desire
and wanting to need,
Fly through my heaven
in songs that I bleed.
sweet gas station champagne
and rocky cocaine
melodic moans escape
as you whisper my name
our tongues dance
like children in soft summer rain
silky lips on my breasts
desire surging through my veins
now drunk on your presence
and high on romance
you softly kiss my forehead
then slip on your pants
body tingling, mind racing
while lost deep in your trance
you waltz out the door and slur
"glad i had the chance”
Forged in the crucible of love and longing,
I have been made.
To say that I have lost,
Would be to greedy a statement.
To lose what most will never have.
Then feel regretful for the loss of it.
Is that greed?
Or is it love?
The humans and animals.
May never know.
A boy riding a bicycle was crossing the country border
The border guard stopped him and checked his bag
Found nothing but a bag of salt, guard let him go
Again next day the boy was riding a bicycle
With a bag of salt, the guard let him go again
This same process went on and on, for weeks
One day the guard checked him
To see if it was real salt or drugs
After some test, the guard found out,
That it was simple salt and nothing else
But the guard has no idea,
Because he was deceived by the bag of salt.
Moonlight shines upon the lake
Darkest black and cold it's waters
Silver ripples running, flowing
Slowly, gleaming through the night
Here the fog is breathing poison
Unnoticed it transforms whoever
Dared to come a few steps closer
Enticed by bewitching sight
Morning will make magic vanish
In the deep it hides and waits for
One that here belongs from now on
That runs far but can't escape
Nothing else will bring him solace
Warmth of sun will burn his skin
All he hears is genlte whisper
Of the silver painted waves
Resonating haunting rhythms
Overflow heart with strange longing
That one day will surely bring him
Will return him, to stay there
By serenity enveloped
All fades into swirling darkness
As the waters close above him
Leaving shattered moonlight trail
In this tale never told.
Lived old lady who lived alone.
As the sunlight peers through half closed curtains
elegantly eluminating a dusty antique table
made of oak, upright and stable.
A musty scent ecaptulating the past
A life that was made but not to last
Her garden grows weeds as tall as trees
Still a rose appears to attract the bees
Who was this lady, whom did she know?
What was her life? god rest her soul.
Davy's hands were highly skilled at many different things;
They'd play the mandolin, and dance across the strings.
A woman's willing body would melt within those hands,
And countless hearts were broken throughout the western lands.
He wore pearl-handled pistols, and loved to juggle knives.
They said he'd fought a dozen men, and all had lost their lives.
I'm told he rode with Jesse James, in the bad old days;
But trouble with some woman sent them separate ways.
He drifted down to Mexico, so the story goes.
But what became of Davy, no-one really knows.
Some say he got married - settled down at last -
Turned those hands to farming, and buried all his past.
Davy's hands were surely blessed by some magic spell.
It seemed for good (or mischief), they always served him well.
Seventh son of a seventh son, he had the charm, for sure.
He had the style - he had the smile - to open any door!
The pantry that is a mystery
You put food in it and it
never to be found again
Mystery kitchen pantry
Mystery kitchen pantry
I wonder where the
food go does
it go to mystery
World where food
Go to never to be found again
Because I know you buy
Cans of food a put it in the
Kitchen pantry but when you
Look for the cans of food and
Can't find it is a mystery
© Amanda Kay Hill