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Dylan Whisman Nov 2018
I indulge the evening.
I indulge the evening
with a savory cup of tea,
percolated evergreen whistling
the sensual cup of tea.
For one could easily cast
their gaze and jilt off
into busy streets,
but you warm my heart,
my hairy toes
and pour into me
rivers of rumination.

Seeds of life and sweaty bees,
a ***** fingernail's eastern breeze,
Nile River hands and feet of Euphrates,
the born creators of our cities.
Of Light! Of Cheer!
Many faces here.

***** hands that toil away
to catch the lightning of the day;
and i do so in a way
for we all love a good tease.

Primordial forces sing in May
to bring the sun to all who play;
and I do so in a way,
for burning eyes study in pairs.

Children of the rice field run away
to chase the dragons of dismay;
and i do so in a way,
for flaming sunsets draw near.

Winds of travel and salty seas,
a distant wanderers expertise
Mt. Fuji's sight, the sound of Ganges,
within one sip I arrive with ease.
In Light! In Cheer!
I am it! I am here!

I indulge the evening.
I indulge the evening
and watch the flickers
of the chocolate sky,
Sweet and smoldering,
the coming febrile sky;
as the night dims low  
she sneaks through the window.
Shamelessly in standing ovation,
I greet the moon
still tasting of Earth
and her endless overtones.
Dylan Whisman Oct 2018
I spoke to a girl with questions.
Silky black hair up like a pine tree,
cappuccino skin studying me
perusing thoughts like vinyl sleeves.
Petite and slouched against the wall
I did not catch her name,
cozy aimless no-name.
New star, squinting glances,
eyes rolling around like owls.
My beard was brustling
like a wildfire up my cheeks.
Maple eyes, oaky eyes,
ebony eyes, rosewood eyes,
burning the dead wood within me.
Dylan Whisman Oct 2018
Heed not the mask they wear
nor the color of skin and hair,
to hide and scare is the tactic of shadows.
The invisible hands that cling
to all the words that shout and sing,
like a virus to a cell it feeds.
Though in virtue it appeals
far intentions conceal;
see through eyes that are taken.
Fierce souls once tried in vain,
now shackled, the mind of Cain,
they shall see no other.
It is quite a site to see
the stricken children, bourgeoisie,
the loop, it pulls ever tighter.
The leash of will
soon the noose that kills,
the birds in the trees all scatter.
But to hang in the gallows
is all very shallow,
for the just retain no hospitality.
Dylan Whisman Oct 2018
The text is buzzing
my eyes new and fuzzy,
in my hands the last breath
of ten thousand winners.
The inkwell is half empty
candles flickering gently,
the moon rests her head
and pours a lavishing smile.
The pages glowing fiercely
yet my intent sincerely,
through snowy fingers she snickers
I've stolen her eye shadow once more.
By dawn we are full of intrigue
for we choose to bear this fatigue;
my dear we haven't slept in weeks.
Dylan Whisman Oct 2018
The trees outside are jivin'
and I'm in here beside 'em
askin' what's going on tonight.

"The party's at eleven,
they'll be playin' Bill Evans,
why don't you bring yourself over?"

"Wigglin' roots all night
bare feet should suffice,"
under the violet sky smilin'.

The pines seem alright,
archaic, a lil blight,
this room is getting stuffy.

So I slip out the back
followin' scents of cognac,
there be a fete in the greenbelt tonight.

Creakin' the wooden gate
I am called upon my fate,
I, am of the roots now.

And all the foliage rejoice
each their own peculiar voice
for I'm just in time, so are we.

As the clock strikes eleven
stridin' down from heaven
he takes his seat once more.
Dylan Whisman Jun 2018
When you flick the lever does it strain you? Does it stave you?
So agonizingly close to the truth?
Cynical is the nature.
Mame to ****,
fool not fill,
mind over will.
To quarter intrinsically,
Stutter intellectually,
Engrosse enternally.
Oh untimely vapire!
Vibrent like the moon
how you steal from the heavens,
iluminating the path of shadows!
You! Sending mankind to the gallows!
Oh promises you gave were shallow!
Every like
every follow,
will this only end in sorrow?
Dylan Whisman Apr 2018
Hook of emotion,
line suspended thoughtfully,
sinker feels the thought.
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