Moment

Honey boo it has been a mission with you
Sometimes you're revlon to my menthol
Ease my smarts emotionally when life has left my heart sore
Appease my fears when I ought to do something overwhelming
There was a time when I stared into your eyes and it left my hands shaking
My body was being given a signal that something seismic was happening
I would hold you and it would feel like my world is coming together like the fusion of broken pieces of the the earth's crust

But now all we ever have is distance
Whenever we're together it's like we'd rather be with other people
Having *** is like reading about some mundane dramatic story with PG16 restriction
Writing you poems has become insurmountable like I need a prescription for heightened perception
Talking has become more ritual rather than something enlivening and influential
I document the way I used to feel by writing haikus to other broads so I can have emotional satiation vicariously through them

You say you want more love and affection
But it seems I am just security and a thawing tool when you need warmth and attention
Our love needs some external spiritual inspection
There has been a third party infection
All that is left now is remedial selection
Selection from the options that have sprouted from our detachment
A tree has grown that is not rooted from our vows and affectionate disposition
It grows weeds that act as a fungus poisoning our garden of passion
But like a reenactment, you just assume a role you would if you were still in love
It looks so simulated I am not at the least stimulated

I remember how like a tree and its leaves we were euphonic - we collocated
But now we are like familiar strangers who are unrelated
So for the familiar feeling I go to a bordello for an ****** massage or beyond; I don't know the *** worker but I know you so atleast with her neither of us has to be two faced about it
There was a time when I called you and came to see you and you had this gleaming countenance
Now whenever I text, you don't reply like I'm something you wanna forget like the fallen continents
It is no secret that our love has been drooping low and at the danger of an apocalypse
I would pretend that this is something on the telly and I'd act Nelly that this will end fairly but I am not a dramtist...

I am a realist and the pure feeling is I haven't stopped loving you
But I would be lying if I said I am still 'in' love with you
So I don't know if you wanna see this through
Maybe if it works you and I can enjoy the oleander view
Kiss each other a few more times and get lost in the breeze of azure blue
Time has been a rhyme fine where on the clock I'd climb and rewind to the times when we were twinned or to be right intertwined and it was fine, love was blind, there was ******* moaning but scarcely whine, so I would like to find if you would mind being on that train one more time....?
Maybe this time we won't derail but maybe our souls can soar and our hearts sail
Our memories are my bait so maybe if we reminisce we can bail out the imprisoned trysts
If you say you'll stay maybe there is colour beyond the pale
But if you choose to end it just know my emotions for you will never fail.

~Anastasia

Sweety bae envision this...
Our arms locking
Lips folding
Cardiac muscles holding
Time to time I let loose mine to your eyes
And it leaves my heart frozen
The pulse lets lose my synapses
For a more aromatic induction
Our love a tower
My body feels like Summer in your cold arms

What amnesia is this!
You forgotten how we met?
It felt weird...your calm posture
Your weird face with that lavish smile
You looked at me from a mile
Bewildered I held back
In a while...
You said to me "Hi"
I gave a smile and passed my greetings
We battered sentences with illusions of paragraphs
But it stayed with the distance
I thought of you ever since.

Moment & Anastacia

But why can't you see that I am me and not the enemy?
How could I know that being me fills you with envy?
I didn't think that I could possibly be your role model
Wish you should see that we are living in a world of plans and scandals

A mere demographic can be the epitome of character and superiority
Why you are being mean at me I understand not entirely
How could I know that my presence and being put you under pressure?
How could I know that my lifestyle is tge highest degree that you long to measure?

Dear lover, I do not know in whose arms you sleep
I can only vouch for the feelings in me deep
I can find solace in the promises we aim to keep
Dear lover I long for you to fill where I am lonely
Take me to the rivers where divinity seekers feel holy
Fill me with emotions coloured in the tapestry of the wind when the songbird inspires a rhapsody

Dear lover, is it me or is there another?
Play me the muse of your love and let me **** from its udder
Let it quench the thirst that bursts when it hurts to be without you, especially in our unders
Dear lover, I am sincerely thinking about you
This feels like some sickening undiscovered dusty hue
You will be the canvas I paint on ****
a flower in bloom.
Dear love I love you more my paramour, I hope you adore this roar of emotion raw collected from secret drawers that store only ideas pure... Lover let us endure.

Some are there for the party, some are there for the part
In rumination a constant reverberating conscious dissertation
Without hesitation I have said that I love you off by heart but your ears are blind if your heart sees them not those darts

In retrospect I would inspect as I detect this heart's reflect
That you were nurtured some  kind of way, into a nature of some jaded doctrine
Taught to be an object and now a suspect of being a love ******
Many a things do they do the beautiful stones, treasures and shells
But it's all for nothing if the love language stays empty

A void to be never filled as wills are ill
Intentions are impure and stenched with all and every filth
I see the waves as the way you think of intimacy but lose the sight of what you feel within
Who you are to you and what you are to you
It goes back to how much emotion means and the steal of it, how it leaves you, the memory that becomes past
The moment that has passed
A flag of a could have and should have ship
Another X that will have them hex and you're on The Bewitched list again  except there won't be a show about you

The love pulse seems to be gone and silent, because when it comes and hits you; it's riveting, it's agony
Much like drowning or free falling on a very rocky surface without a parachute
It gives you a sense of urgency
It gives you a sense of urgency
It is not tomorrow, not yesterday, not then or when but now, always insistent at this very instant

The grooming then; what were the first words she told by grandmother, mother, sister or aunt - about men
The first words that modelled her becoming
The pictures that fragmented her imagination of personhood
The mantras that have built up as a Zeitgeist driving her gears of paradigms
The very itch in her egoic mind that longs for material satiation except it's never enough

Some are there for the party, some are there for the part
Some live and die for for the velocity of the transcendence of divinity
Some just keep up face
Keeping up face because the paste might replace a gaze of self-hate and inadequacy
You'll know where they stand and what they stand for by how they'll respond, what they'll say or won't say
To know what the love language is is to know what it's not
And our treasures who long to be crowned have been inculcated to calculate the degrees of lust and temporary gain, so nothing good lasts
And golden opportunities seem to just pass because nobody takes a glance at the true Romance Lingui Francua glass

They run for the telly and how flat the belly will look
But slow to write a message saying she's yearning and hungry for your love
So the love star starves and the children of tomorrow call this a fable
But see it's just jaded grooming
No impulse to give of oneself for a just cause, so how will they love wholeheartedly and the love dance rhythm adore?
Just another idyll for the abandoned book store that nobody takes a tour in anymore.

What my hands see when they touch your face
What my heart smells when you cook our love
What my ears taste when calling your name is my muse
What my feet hear when music walks within you
What my eyes feel when I hug you and you exhale

This is all that makes me believe in you and me

When my day is dark and the sunshine in your smile makes it alright
When I lose all sense and meaning and you loving me in a million ways is a mystery
When I play our jam and all else is smooth in a broken world
When money has reached zero and you still find wealth in being with me
When the clock ticks and I feel luck has missed me and you slow down time so I can find a leap

This is when I believe in you and me

How you inspire the birds to sing by lifting my spirit
How you pay attention to the things I forget to remember
How your beauty colours my greyscale understanding of heaven
How your soul pierces my shield of magnetic insecurity

This is how I believe in you and me

You are the spear and I am the torn tree
You are the Spring and  my love is what is locally warming
You are the torch in a dark night and I am trying to build you as a lantern to carry you longer
You are the pause in eternity and I am the pendulum hitting slow step and rewind

This is who we are in belief.

I have been writing to subscribe to Hello Inn
Only to be inked as goodbye dialing late daily in.

I feel a surge in my arteries
Can some good art purge my heart and knees
There is a urge to hurt rather than please
A dirge sung rather than a joyous piece
Ashes and dust in faraway seas, give me courage to wake and seize
before moments that will get me out of the ******,
Are in darkness and have me negatively captive without release.

Am I plastered?
Drunk or just hanging?
Taking a dunk or just sagging?
I am given to aphorisms
Morals that build us for a reason
Trying to keep us out of mental prisons
Words have me in a haze and I cannot erase these thoughts  that keep running in an entrancing maze.

Metamorphosis. There are matters that enforce this energy which is engorged within a metaphysical force. I use my fingers to pick up a pen so to expel a thought that lingers in my pineal gland.

Goodness. It is grace amazing that is in this place or just a god or the God who shows off his face. We are presented with a gift perennial that is wrapped with mystery. In mists the fists of fate take a swing and if we believe in the unseen we can trust grit and transcend beyond wit. Train our senses to be lit so they can send us beyond -ism's to the essence of goodness.

Locomotion. In my local state I give up my locale to some divine logic gate. I dial in to wire my mental coiling to follow a calling to inspire. Ever the wiser I should soar to the mystic spheres. But ground there is insulation and my calculation computes a technical movement in my skeletal. I am moving locating my next step, relaying locomotives which are concentric energy.

Soigné. A fine dame I dare meet on a fine day. So Ignorant of her beauty I parlay my chances with a few words of jest and curved zest to interact with her invitational tract. If I have a chance in fact I will make a pact to be with her throughout the days and forget about lustful tact. I resurge and her being is muse and to me it is a purge. I aim to converse with her for days and days so we can find confluence as we psychically converge. And I'll tell her that she is pulchritudinous and I am pale true to nought, waiting for my crafting.

Words or chords to find concordance. Some say say swords to slice and pierce and dictate worlds. I say they are mellifluous like a melody that sends a melancholy sadist out of his maladies. Magnanimously magnificent in moments of poetic artistry and meandering prose fixating methodically. From the mammary of the culinary belly we squeeze out these laid letters formed to mean but not to be mean to the means of our diction or magnify our addiction. Perhaps to quantify our intellect beyond the internet, we archive them in dictionaries and illustrate them in some encyclopaedia. Perhaps grunts and clicking of tongues is some medium... But words change the world where lords fail to write laws to keep us sane, and instead have swords forged to have any man slain.

The prize has been set
The price to be met
There is an opening overhead
Matters need to be solved before we go to bed
There has been something unsettling
The soul and the mind are wildly wrestling

The aim has been to find the summit
In the scribes we read of heroes who can count it
There will be few who will account for pouncing
The pants of the upheaval direct who will wear the pants
The colour embossed in the mast of the mud bosses you unless you are a panther

In the corners of my soul the pictures form a montage
Confidence is winning tool for the seeker and his entourage
His poise and clear precision, the vivid vision all at large
I wonder in my wandering while watering the plant of my future decayed body
In the derision of the photography I have a decision to make to mark this monopoly

In the constructs of the ***** mental designs
There is a colour line that hints of a separation
Contrasting emotions in this ocean of corruption
No passion to ponder on as if looking at oneself on a pond
Just eruption and temporary satiation of a concocted false imagination
A fallacy which is hypocrisy to demonize delinquency driven by democratic debauchery
In offering one's presence to gift the box of society some fitting propriety
You lose your footing because of the escalating changes in the gravity of balanced sanity

This would riddle any walking and moving mind but will catch the eye of the seated paradigm
Dissecting each section of the situation at this cyclic station
Are we vibrating to the desired frequency or are we visiting waves that lead us to farewell before we've frequented our painted haven?
In the position of being seated, the noise quieted and the marking erased
You easily trace the place that you have to face before you can embrace the stool that pools you in an estuary
You rest at once and maybe there's your ferry or maybe just a rocking chair giving you perception from where you swing back and forth.

I see waves forming from the undermouth
Our time is ours for the while if we bathe in confidence
I have been searching in the labyrinth
Yearning for a thread to sink my passion in
But you pull up your hair like wool from a sheep

It curls my hair and makes me wonder what tree I'll grow under
The firmament is smoky now and I feel the fire
But the picture freezes
Nothing can appease this abstraction
From concentration attrition to the wailing contrition

The piano sounds a symphony and I feel something is here for me
The picture perfect in its pompous posture preparing propriety in ponder
I hear the strings and feel them suckle me in
I am a dreamer who has met his demise and now a dire desire to deliver a dirge on delicate design
How I find and fly a song so on fire,
But the cold

And the picture rolls like a pancake about to be tolled with more flavour
I can taste it in my tongue and feel its beat on my chest
Truly tee to tire tears of the flee where would I truly tinge and fly free?

Nowhere would I be if I could near the nigh neighbour from heaven next to me like a nest that nurtures nostalgia
Oh what a view that smells like stew but powders like hue
Now a dissident delinquent dead of dedication derelict in the deep
How I near and chase the steeds, I guess I will just leap.

Empty in vessels
Tested through medals
Infused with influenza effervescents
I am still waiting for the accent


Spoken for through treasures
I am waiting for the inconceivable measure
Flying flying and flying high
I am making my own merit. By and By.

Fixed in the betwixt twist
Covering the palms of hope as a fist
Suicidal about misssions aborted from trust wrists
Time and time only knowing...
Could this be the test of the testament fix?

In the west winds splashes a fountain down beneath
A furrow has been dug to send the waves of the waters to civilization
Oh civilisation, how we overlook the green leaves and large strong brown bark
And the sound of crickets that we miss as we play loudly the stereo in our cars
How we miss the warmth just before sunset and mislead ourselves into thinking that our bedrooms are fervor's comfort
We miss the softness of sand and chase the pair of shoes with the thickest sole
So many holes are drilled into our souls
Even showers aren't enough to open up our pores
And the television romance to convince us of an ease of sores

My goodness will we ever know
But wait til it rains, hails or snows
Then we know that it is this cult or that which defines our goals
Big dreams make shacks of our mansion homes
We wish upon a star to guide us close
Nearer to our ambitions so we walk tough and keep a mental bold
Moonshine at noon time perhaps luck will get us there before we're old
As long as as we will still glow as gold even if the furrows on our faces we cannot fold
There can be a chip in cast iron I am told
We like to believe we are titanium, an invincible mould
It keeps us away from dying, so we we aim for the tall tree and keep climbing
With ice hockey sticks we keep gliding
Hoping we have enough ballet lift so we don't break our toes as we try to brake and move forth slow

It is comforting to know that we will leave our illusions before we are mediocre
Before our memoirs and escapades become archaic
We will reminisce and hiss as we miss the kiss or heaven's lips as we glisten with magic in our eyes
Maybe then we'll listen to the vision of intuition that keeps us on our stride away from derision
We will at once know that we have lived and this life has been a universal whistle because it can end faster than a round exits a pistol.

The breeze catches you once more
You know that this is a new moment
You feel it in the weather as its cold before the rain pours
It takes you away and you feel light sensing a drifting sentiment
You wonder if you were ever present in this future nostalgic state
You try to capture the memories of old but they miss you and you are late

You begin to realise that this is new and you have to take it all in
The trees speak a secret language and you figure this has been spoken before
If you can just concentrate and shut the noise and amplify the words you'll win
Just to hear what they say but this is a different tone and change is what you abhor
This sensation takes you on tour and assures that a new day is born

Now you gather yourself and calculate
How do the vagaries of nature calibrate?
You wonder what the birds must be singing about because they suddenly levitate
How could you miss it? The big lesson, maybe next time you will not hesitate
You will embrace each chance to dwell in the romance of each grain of sand in the hour glass

You soon accept this is the present that has been gifted and you owe it to yourself to bestow life with your utmost dedication
This age, this hour, this passing moment is yours and you release that with or without you life will go on
Your absence an abstract figure that reduces in significance as another has their ride on the swing of precious time
It will never be the same but memories will remain and the moments you will treasure as that is your conscious gain.

But when leaves you are done
Who will surmise your derision?
In these scents of colour I clamour
But you know you, you are the vision
Walking out of impudence you are glamour
The moon by day opens up a different kind of hue
A few purrs and I take a whiff
Oh but surrender in this waking field

In seasons I wonder whence I will plunder
But the setting sun lets me know that there is a bright view
How high can I fly if I understand what Bigfoot begins to wonder
The azure is a pleasure but to simple it is only soft blue
Out of the darkness, into the plight
How I just dream that I could be that one leading light
Like a lantern in the wilderness I long to glow just the right way
Ceilings of this firmament, I know there's a cosmic song beyond that does play
Oh but surrender in this waking field

My senses awaken now and I know I am in nature's basket
A flower here and there all naked and ripe for me to pluck
There are so many streams and much terrain before I fill my buckets
Let this be muse that continues before time pulls the plug
Before time pulls the plug on this moment true
I wander up and sideways at that misty bloom
Oh however true and sincere in plain sight
Can I just find the road where in the end I smile as it leads right
Oh how I surrender in this waking field..
A whiff and I'm up again.

To where's though
Two way door
Here Glen pores
Tea for those.

Fresh from bout bowelling out
Strict to the noun-foul, striking out
Free from the doubt, designing drought
Finding corolla in new memoralia clout

Sinking in and dipping in deep into trouble
Flanking out and breaking out from the double
Sizing the sequel to be pleasure bubble
Getting through clean and peaceful without a fumble

Aligning caught and catching thought
Finding the way throughout avoiding the fought
Whatever the seas that make us immortal
However the seams turn pillars into portals

Drenched now in the reigns
Cooled down by purple love marooned to later rain
I do not know how much I feign lest I faint
Only these words my communical to conversation paint.

We were gems once
Now in a world so broken
We wander upon the wonders of the wrath of nature
But where calls upon an ounce for ponder
I do not know, I imagine as ever that it is a display that grows less grotesque as I smile about it
We were gems once

Now we grow old and bitter
Looking wan and pitiful
Lacking a sense of exuberance and ardency
How we used to glow at every go, don't you know?
Gleaming as the streams of galaxies on the face of the sky
We were gems once