The ring of Cancer once comes around and the evening sky
is still. If you want to look back, spring while the sun was
frowning, darkened distance from winter will make you remem-
ber, head and waters, deep dive, and on your skin, everywhere
you are looking, you see the ocean and endless summer
horizons. I was then much younger, middle earth between my
fingers, father time smiling; in your reflection I saw the sun tall-
est shadow and a diamond skull. In your laughter that was
nearest, the speechless storm approaching, while the beetle
had won the race on the beach, and I ran for something out of
sight. We all long for this day, feeling a gem of ocean deep,
in the colour of blue one planet sized. And you don't say a
word, hold your silence, forever more... Heading deep in
waters and I see the nearest end is everywhere, on my skin...
My soul was the pigeon that flew to Capricorn's ring,
hearing nothing but soundless terror across the sea. Here is
the winter's window and it's blackness slowing down your
deep breath, in an instant memory is nothing, no life, no
beetle, and beaches. If you drown in your summer's dream
your eyes will be the oyster and your sky will be indescent
in
the
wind
and
waters.
Jun 28, 2020
Jun 28, 2020 at 5:33 PM UTC
Asking too much from this emptiness, structure and language. Some
love nest between the eyes lies love in complete quietness and iso-
lation, a lonely planet in the distance. Not to want, or a complete loss
of time, or both. From your hips come a tight embrace, gilded in mad
desire from another side of what is life, transferred by frequencies.
Give up defences, dropping of humanities, pyramid of eternal longing
at midday sun, eyes or desolation. We travel on, held by the heels in poi-
son Ivy below, and fly. There is a night deformed by beauty and a living
memory, just keep quiet when you see it or feel it's meteorite burn.
Make me come back asking too much from a lonely hell?
Oct 30, 2019
Oct 30, 2019 at 7:13 PM UTC
Expected and dusted the fight and struggle a tiny
dead thread was alive. A few minutes, or seconds. I ought
to read it again in blind faith. And how about you in your
frozen screams? Light feathered bird and white as a turtle-
dove, this soulless creature heavy as a tear.
Know what you love, it is always the same wisdom of ad-
vice. Unexpected, this is what I remember most. Death can
be a strange miracle. It has no heaven, nor earth, or sea. At
least it was unusual physically. A tender dream brief and
gone immediately. Well, that's all I have got to say.
Oct 20, 2019
Oct 20, 2019 at 3:52 PM UTC
It's not a boatrace who is right or not. We relate to each other
via power and force once or twice in a while. I imagine what
you would look like, a variety of images just pass my mind
without Westminster in your hunchback. Figure of speech. Hy-
pocritical sayings of the house, drink driving and fines. Love
comes through the maze of a mini drowsiness, when you get
up to him and you kiss. I am still here when you had your little
kissy kiss behind the blue door. Am I right when you move on
slow to the left? You are selfobsessed about your cleverness,
turning upside down what used to be my understanding. Per-
haps they let you off the hook, oblique perfection when look-
ing back. My God, I used to be happy! Now I find myself in this
boatrace over a simple perception almost a neaderthaler con-
cept. Captain caveman, come out where ever you are? You are
outside the house sleeping on the couch? I need a stiff drink.
Aug 28, 2019
Aug 28, 2019 at 9:36 AM UTC
2
Facsimile, with precision technologies in tiny submarines. Two
or three faces extracts in mid- eyed focus, flowers mistaken. A
compassionate elephant's sleepless night, to see the hunter in
his visory dreams. What are you saying about the look of love?
It is upsetting to see the ivory of heavenly beauty, spoil of a
a lost war unforgotten still. The facsimile is showing a windmill
and not a castle, in the thin- aired breeze of the southwind. The
dead animal severed by a loving hand, humanely. Your
dominant mind is not making me an ally, but quiet enemy. Or,
I will count the hours in our lives stonedeaf of love.
3.
Champion of sulking, shine like gold in the bedroom. Sleep
is the fiddler on the roof above our house, in a new concept.
A little inspiration comes back to mind: there are two choices
if we want to keep the mikvah or chuppah. LIfe and living, l'
chaim! Or mazzeltov, putting it politely. Where will the mice
live, the pigeons and me? I am trying to ignore all the bad
vibes coming from that direction. Pointing at you, index fin-
gering. But I am not worried, I got your shoe in my hand.
The world outside is getting ready for a big story. Try living
for once, my love. I am telling you, I am right about the house.
Aug 28, 2019
Aug 28, 2019 at 8:59 AM UTC
1
A whisper, Frederic Raphael and glittering prizes. We are not
patients in this hospital ward, a couple. The prize, I under-
stand is my birthday present... Past salt on my face, like the
dream you get in the night. Behind the castle, your first kiss
stolen. Imagine what time would be like, the future? Whispers
midday in the summer heatwave we will be hiding in the cool-
ness of the river. Time in the clock is flying, your pick-up sticks
Mikado solitary game behind the wide hourglass, I am still wai-
ting for the body- sun- eclips. In your secret location, a song
about the garden, what's on the petri dish? Micro tessalation...
Aug 27, 2019
Aug 27, 2019 at 8:57 AM UTC
Tessa Cycle III
1
A whisper, Frederic Raphael and glittering prizes. We are not
patients in this hospital ward, a couple. The prize, I under-
stand is my birthday present... Past salt on my face, like the
dream you get in the night. Behind the palace, your first kiss
stolen. Imagine what time would be like, the future? Whispers
midday in the summer heatwave we will be hiding in the cool-
ness of the river. Time in the clock is flying, your pickup sticks
Mikado solitary game behind the wide hourglass, I am still wai-
ting for the body- sun- eclips. In your secret location, a song
about the garden, what's on the petri dish? Micro tessalation...
Aug 27, 2019
Aug 27, 2019 at 8:54 AM UTC
Tessa X
After midnight before going to bed, a mournful hour. A dead
pattern, **** I came this close in between the fingers, but she
refused flatly. I should join the army instead, or die in battle.
It is quite serious but now I am getting it, the bigger picture is
not about me. Monday morning we still have fortune to tell us
about what make things better, with the house in the bedroom.
Architects build, e.g., a house. An English husband is swallowed
up and down. There is no such thing as freedom of movement,
in this family's good name. I understand her genuinely, If the
walls hold up and not just regular. Is it her, is it England?
Aug 26, 2019
Aug 26, 2019 at 5:07 AM UTC
Tessa VII
I am curious, on your man, woman- advice friends. Tac-
tically impotence only wants to say, what if? The long line of
this hissing in my ear can drive me mad. And than I'm saying
'Look who's talking'. It's the diplomacy on treading carefully
on your feelings. What if I hurt you and lot's of apologies?
Your friends are holding me in contempt for loving the way
that you are. Or, that could be a state of the art opinion and
self hollowness, when liberated for too long. Horses don't eat
meat or Beef Wellington. And you are a fine equus, I know...
I am waiting for this morphology, muscles turning to butterflies.
Nine days ago we were in unfamiliar territories, still. A diamond
had fallen from off the forehead unto the floor, a stony wall
horizon. I am following the Ivy towards your thinly path through
the woods. It is more than a thought, or impulse. If you want
my advice, a moment's blindness could do us many wonders.
Tessa VIII
Where is the fountain of youth in our future, today, tomorrow,
thereafter? Interesting seeing or watching two adults trying
hard to find this childlike 'would you like to be my friend?' talk.
Men walk through rocks and mountains, and women are at the
tunnel's end waiting for collision. Questions are being asked,
whether we started off the wrong way. It wasn't in my app, or
yours and looming before us. You grassed me up, I am a British
criminal of the surreal land. Marshes and bush are on fire, I like
singing this song. Or change all this to care for each other, and
forget that we are pixies. I never liked Kilroy, my late
confession. ET went home, alone, and now is staying on the
planet of Extraterrestrial. As for your idyllic nature the fountain
of youth was love. A quiet place in the evenings perhaps, and
I will find you there. Halfway under the full moon and spider's
mating season. If death may be the fate I may find, playwright.
Tessa IX
I need a cigarette, chuckle at something trivial, or go to bed and
call for the whales. Why it end up here in this way is only
making sense if you are a living memory. What is the story of
your life, a matey question unanswered. You are trying to hide
from triviality, I get that impression from afar. Pain in my shoul-
der, just off the blade. Are we going somewhere this after-
noon? The cricket field is empty or mental asylum. How do
we pretend in a pretend world? Let's get M, the M- word,
or negation and forensics. I need a hug or group hug of you
and me. If you can't laugh now, I am not a comedian, S U C.
Aug 25, 2019
Aug 25, 2019 at 8:49 AM UTC
Tessa VI
Sunday morning, I wonder if you are happy. Smart happy,
or just happy. Ten days ago it was about my indiscretions, and
how you engineered the wife- thing up close and dangerous...
I have lost the bird in my hand, in exchange for the pyramids
of Egypt. I also wonder, did you go to church today? Not becau-
se of affection, but for confectionate reasons. Sprinkling here
and there your Bible- religion for the morning. I am not looking
back. We are in the new realities in Real Time, and tomorrow.
About the bird, she was my phoenix with scanty white polished
feathers. For subtlety we scored a very high heaven. The L-
word now lies between the sun and earth. I understand, you
need me and I need you, vision. Love at this stage of age can't
be coincidental, plain and simple. I wonder if you are happy this
morning, when looking at you through the wide window. It
could be telepathic, if life is smart between us. I answer...
Aug 25, 2019
Aug 25, 2019 at 5:05 AM UTC