bluesamuraipoet - Hello Poetry

MARIA, LAY YOUR HANDS ON ME PROTECT FROM THE WOLF THAT WANTS YOUR LOVE WANTS ME TO BE HIS SWAN, HIS LILY WANTS ME TO EAT HIM BLUE OVER, SOMETIMES YELLOW WHITE FLOODS MONEY PROBLEMS HURT AND LEAVE WITHOUT WORDS WITHOUT WISHES WITHOUT SALT HE WHO TOUCHES THE BACK OF MY NECK AKNOWLEDGES MY WOMAN-ITY HE OBSERVES NIGHTLY WINDOWSHOPS THINKING THINGS HE COULD BRING FOR MY GLORY HE MEANS WELL HE WANTS TO WE KNOW THAT PAROLE SHARES WITHOUT ANY WORDS I WAIT FOR THE BOY WHEN THE MAN COMES STANDS AND STARES BY THE TREE THAT I SIT'N'SING ON HE HOLDS COLD, HE SHOT WOLF -- NOW IT'S HIS TURN MARIA, WHO WAS YOUR JESUS? HOW WELL CAN TWO LOVERS HOLD WITHOUT EACH OTHER FOR YEARS ON?

0

bluesamuraipoet

Jul 26, 2018

Jul 26, 2018 at 5:42 AM UTC

dora

Maria

MARIA, LAY YOUR HANDS ON ME PROTECT FROM THE WOLF THAT WANTS YOUR LOVE WANTS ME TO BE HIS SWAN, HIS LILY WANTS ME TO EAT HIM BLUE OVER, SOMETIMES YELLOW WHITE FLOODS MONEY PROBLEMS HURT AND LEAVE WITHOUT WORDS WITHOUT WISHES WITHOUT SALT HE WHO TOUCHES THE BACK OF MY NECK AKNOWLEDGES MY WOMAN-ITY HE OBSERVES NIGHTLY WINDOWSHOPS THINKING THINGS HE COULD BRING FOR MY GLORY HE MEANS WELL HE WANTS TO WE KNOW THAT PAROLE SHARES WITHOUT ANY WORDS I WAIT FOR THE BOY WHEN THE MAN COMES STANDS AND STARES BY THE TREE THAT I SIT'N'SING ON HE HOLDS COLD, HE SHOT WOLF -- NOW IT'S HIS TURN MARIA, WHO WAS YOUR JESUS? HOW WELL CAN TWO LOVERS HOLD WITHOUT EACH OTHER FOR YEARS ON?

23

Luck she smokes coming out in clouds spreading all over violent tracks grey noises breaking dreams in sleep slow waves blending to blues when the sun is coming out breathing in back volumes of screaming alarms ocean salt crunches in her morning bones last time she was a mermaid past life she was a Fortune spinning a thread sewing her dress spinning later in dance stranger creatures downstairs look great finally staring at the spring sun through fingers it burns seems for luck like a candle play of the past evening reaching heat on the highest spot on the top where she finds lucky solution in the underworld kingdom watered with five wholesome oceans room covered with vital rose blossoms to the dusty pink noise Fortuna goddess is dancing on her tip toes

0

Jul 2, 2018

Jul 2, 2018 at 4:24 AM UTC

bluesamuraipoet

hidden luck in dust

Luck she smokes coming out in clouds spreading all over violent tracks grey noises breaking dreams in sleep slow waves blending to blues when the sun is coming out breathing in back volumes of screaming alarms ocean salt crunches in her morning bones last time she was a mermaid past life she was a Fortune spinning a thread sewing her dress spinning later in dance stranger creatures downstairs look great finally staring at the spring sun through fingers it burns seems for luck like a candle play of the past evening reaching heat on the highest spot on the top where she finds lucky solution in the underworld kingdom watered with five wholesome oceans room covered with vital rose blossoms to the dusty pink noise Fortuna goddess is dancing on her tip toes

25

where does the line between rose and blue lies opposite directions meet me at the edging spot is it a coma or a dot? melody swings like bird sings swimming in sun dust some silent men and women clear that noise in the time sun rises hold their brushes clean streets today have no smell of spring i paint a lot for that, the smell of start my hands are aching drying out black inks formed to letters formed into paws long pauses and a quick jump of a cat chasing birds feathers cry of help breath in paint smell ,crush, cross, ruin that line Imagination is fooling you start the lies. no cream can help to cure your featherless skin Sunburns are breaking walls. isn’t it heartbreaking? i bite my hands to the blood meeting dead birds they are the first flowers in spring victims of unclear hands turned out to be dusty paws last breath of aching winter long long time before rose blooms it has her spines sharpened before strike no one can get inside your mind line of thought is under words line of rose is under spine line of blue is under song of a bird carryied away with the gentle touch of a watercolored brush of a woman or a man.

0

Jun 25, 2018

Jun 25, 2018 at 10:56 AM UTC

bluesamuraipoet

Flowers at first

where does the line between rose and blue lies opposite directions meet me at the edging spot is it a coma or a dot? melody swings like bird sings swimming in sun dust some silent men and women clear that noise in the time sun rises hold their brushes clean streets today have no smell of spring i paint a lot for that, the smell of start my hands are aching drying out black inks formed to letters formed into paws long pauses and a quick jump of a cat chasing birds feathers cry of help breath in paint smell ,crush, cross, ruin that line Imagination is fooling you start the lies. no cream can help to cure your featherless skin Sunburns are breaking walls. isn’t it heartbreaking? i bite my hands to the blood meeting dead birds they are the first flowers in spring victims of unclear hands turned out to be dusty paws last breath of aching winter long long time before rose blooms it has her spines sharpened before strike no one can get inside your mind line of thought is under words line of rose is under spine line of blue is under song of a bird carryied away with the gentle touch of a watercolored brush of a woman or a man.

35