Don't die
little flowerfly
i like laurels
Like daisy love Mystery
Sep 1, 2016
Sep 1, 2016 at 8:36 PM UTC
What is the difference between
Verbatim and Vitamin? hmmn
Perhaps it is the fITe within
Or the beta, - before hand
This lense flare, without a care
For every Faustian Recluse
D-&serve; but a singlefinalfatal sear
From solar contact to lack of h-ear
There is little wonder to the webster's
Perpetually lacking lexicon...
The Roman Frankenstein that IS
Protestant English.
From the truest intention of any scribe;
Can not run.
And as for those hospitals and serums--
Another handful for another animal...
I am but a wishful poet
Walking the shore for the beautiful bubbles of the water twin;
Sand Crab.
"To give away yourself keeps yourself still,
And you must live, drawn by your own sweet skill."
[I give my glory
to the glory
of nature]
Aug 27, 2016
Aug 27, 2016 at 6:23 PM UTC
Architect tie
Around the neck
of architexture
The prefecxture
is a mixture
hollowed betwixt
epithelial and
premium,
**He say ya can't
take the heat
Out tha fiya**
Aug 24, 2016
Aug 24, 2016 at 4:26 PM UTC
It is worn to reminisce on what is broken
It is worn to visualize the others being stolen
Broken just enough to be its own facade
Enough to melt anyone's vanity through massage
An hourglass could only shatter--never crack.
It isn't worth my time. says the true gambler.
Neither narrator nor character.
Whistling through the face, always betting
On becoming something between symbol and setting
Oct 12, 2015
Oct 12, 2015 at 3:16 PM UTC
I hunger for a Fuji Apple
And so Mount Fuji is where I grapple
The volcano's summit has me fooled
It is in the orchard these fruits have pooled
Dec 11, 2014
Dec 11, 2014 at 1:20 AM UTC
Hey little dragonfly
I hope you know this ain't no lie
I know you got your superstars
And cozy elevator cars.
Hey little buttercup
You sure are one cute powerpuff
And I know That without a doubt
That you will always tough it out.
Ohh, we know I picked the coldest coast
Yet I can't say that I miss yours most
I swear I'll steal some devil's wings
Cause angels can be such slow things.
Not some bugs eyes on a stick and wings
Or a giant scaly scary thing
Your spirit and a heart of wind
That will burn and fly through anything.
Dec 2, 2014
Dec 2, 2014 at 2:44 AM UTC
Ash cannot shackle
These songs that burn within me
My musical chains
Apr 12, 2014
Apr 12, 2014 at 4:37 AM UTC
I wonder if I could here a sphere
And hurl that pearl back into your eyes
Or perhaps just one eye, a triangular kind.
Jumping from left to right and up the bridge of your nose.
A particular pose played by the pacing
Of these runes and spacing
Sewn together by punctuation skipping
Comma little closer and know
That I do not want the pearl, a dot, or its growing spots
Simply something similar to its glimmer
Solely that feeling of slowly spinning that sphere
Upon contemplative fingertips waiting to flick
Into an ear, that perfect whisper
That ticks and tocks for about a handful of seconds
Until bouncing hips are dancing to that kicking flick
That you wondered about so well
Apr 12, 2014
Apr 12, 2014 at 4:12 AM UTC
I should sleep
Yes, that would fix it.
It has all things a solution needs;
It passes time,
It restores mind,
And when I finally, quietly,
Think of nothing, world becomes so.
Yet I still watch the clock.
Until I lose count of stories
That could pass in a minute.
That alone proves today is not done
Night has only begun
Some of these minutes help,
Some of these thoughts distract.
For hours I would follow them all.
Some ancient statute composed
From apathy & empathy & delusions
To place myself as dark, darkest
Oil to feed
And burn for others.
I had thought- By counting all of the quiet truths,
That I could drift,
With same sureness
Of repetitive sheep.
I have counted into an hour
Past night, but darkness has not set
Still, I cannot sleep.
I want to pass time.
My habits return to counting
I want to restore my mind, body, and eyes
My instinct cannot be ignored-
It refuses.
I simply want to fix this
These truths tick and tock so loudly.
I must think to nothing
But
It is not world and worries that follow
It is morning and its meaning.
My morning
And my...dreaming
It is not enough to think nothing
It is not enough to image something
I want to rest and escape, knowing-
More than so, return with a day that I bring.
Jan 30, 2014
Jan 30, 2014 at 9:11 PM UTC
. Excuse me,
What have you got there
That could pass time
On this drudging subway?
Well.
I stack the plays like baseball
and wait
For more words to fall
It
Doesn’t
Take too many squares
Because
You will never see them all.
My hints are already here
Your count and a little more care-
Oh, hold on- there is no way
I could keep up with what
You say, though this rhythm
Is contagious. How could you
Possibly defer to me?
Simply concentrate your stare
From the velvet in your heart
And fill in gaps from the start.
You have read them through
And looked around
There is no need
To feel confound
Ment to be found
However,
Most importantly,
Discovered.
Well, I am not blind
I must admit but your
“Simply” is not simple, one bit
So I do know of music
And the brevity of art
But what could happen
When we part? Am I
To find another mind
Of your kind to
Progress this text now unfolding?
Nonsense my friendling!
Adventure is yourself
And so many places!
That
Linger
And wait
Spinning
On all every abandoned shelf.
Though I am not of the scent yet,
You can follow those sages,
We keep our promise Upon these pages.
To one day unravel
These
Tempestuous
Ages .
Jul 23, 2013
Jul 23, 2013 at 7:42 PM UTC