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5.7k · Sep 2018
china white amuse-bouche
trf Sep 2018
Spinning round a windy ledge,
i kiss the cross around my neck,
these fever dreams replace the likes of you.

Grinning into space, alone and lost,
the dampened linens lie,
     as i wake up,
     covered in fake love.

In my den the china white,
embraced my blood and laced my night,
an amuse-bouche of courses left to come.

The past three years I can't recall,
coulda been fun, but was it worth it all,
i'm a coma patient lacking an excuse.

Truth,
is hard to come by,
You,
are a stranger in my,
Eyes,
collude disguise.
lost my balance blinded by the darker truth
2.9k · Sep 2018
36~24~36 Facade
trf Sep 2018
H arrowing abundance rife with result
O ur minds narrowly try to cope
U nder pressure facades and near **** haute
R estricts the leisure of bare beauty
G rowing impatient by the cover of makeup
L oving imperfection is now a rare duty
A ttributes of wear benign hope and
S ecede scars born of cataclysm while
S carcely inhibiting a chance to forgive them
everyone is beautiful and everyone is ugly. shine a light on anyone, make your decision & determine which way you'd like to be perceived
2.8k · Nov 2018
The 4:10 Train to Cutler
trf Nov 2018
a hundred years of rain
drops down the tall, tilted rooftop
towards the porous landscape below,
as love soaks, the dust settles.

dreams of fluid summers
in the nineteen hundreds,
children's laughter echoing
through candle lit halls of timber,
front porch rocking chairs squeaking
after grandpa's dinner
where this happy home
is a dream you'll remember.
trf Oct 2017
Are you fatigued?
Do you have irritable bowel syndrome?
Are there irreconcilable differences in your life?
Are you Homophobic...

"I climb 1,576 stairs"
"But I have a lot of gay friends"
once we've reached the top,
there are no two quarters for the lens.

What's driving us, this feeling, this wander?

Could you imagine,
If kind was ****** compassion.

Could you imagine,
If kind has no reaction.

What a day, what a day, what a day, what a day;
it will be.

Like children lost in corn mazes.......

filled with glee.

Hollow are those shallow times,
don't you
forget
about me.

What a day, what a day, what a day, what a day;
it will be.

Luckily those prickly vines, are fading fantastically.


TRF
         sometimebforehalloween

2.6k · Jan 2019
Nonesuch Mercy
trf Jan 2019
the darkest nights blame the sun kissed moon,
and we're paralyzed by the weather.

above stormy skies we lie fragile and wait,
as the time flies by like our pleasure.

blankets of bourbon, wine & cheese plates,
shooting stars wish us to forget them.

my thigh rubs gently along your soft suede,
answers beg question's forgiveness.
2.5k · Jul 2018
Nectar Viscosity
trf Jul 2018
sleeping tears awoke to crimson crust & apple red veins,
eyes peering through the dizzying fog to find a faucet
& drizzle rain like nectar down the peach pit's core,
along rugged edges & oval pores,

imperfect patterns & lightning blinks
remind the second sadness to cry once again.

My swipe of crust is rusting
like a smoker's yellowing finger tips gathering paint on callouses
& cracked lips

mirrored reflections shadow gaze,
squinting to locate bronze crow's feet of a man, mid thirties,
lying for what-to die
dying to wait-for what
I wrote this poem on the back of my most recent 36x48 painting. Abstract-fully Delicious, yet sad and viscous
2.2k · Sep 2018
fema $
trf Sep 2018
we danced in the streets as the days were long
only recess and reckoning while water crept in
this city of dead, our place, where the stench lives
and bodies float, lying above the crypt's graves  

hurricane red absinthe & hand grenades
slugging the gulf like a shooter's brigade
a forecast shifts, flooding any escape
so we fire our motors with boats on em.
nola luvs u
2.0k · Sep 2018
Sunset Star Wrangler
trf Sep 2018
I'm covered from head to toe in resin, acrylics and epoxy,
Some pulverized rocks my son gathered from the Chattooga River,
Now reduced to a burnt ember dust.
I added silicone sludge and a little baking powder as well,
And once mixed, this dicey concoction is beautifully toxic,
So I waft the air and inhale it.

Painting a colorful sunset is too easy, I prefer black and white,
So with a wooden board the size of a door,
I get to work with my rubber sledgehammer, blowtorch
A gallon of poison and flammable spray.

The passers by have seen this look in eyes,
From The Shining or possibly their preachers,
You know, the same look that's a sight to behold.

Slamming the hammer down with brute force
And purposed abandonment,
I paint my sunset and wrangle the stars later.
A shower won't do me justice>
Here's Johny
1.9k · May 2018
Heirloom Suffix
trf May 2018
your "friends" that we meet,
i forget their names,
my calloused palms are greased,
by their  squeezing hands

i remember one's a banker,
or he could have said a thief,
his ******* words were flanked,
by my misbelief

i was held hostage,
you were a smiling drone,
i remember when i lost
to Stockholm Syndrome

their Heirloom Suffix changes,
on tuxedos and trust funds,
my rental wears just fine,
i'm not the danger

shorting stocks on tuesday,
while playing ball in hand,
what a shame to lose me,
busted seams this man

I am not a banker,
I am not a saint,
I cannot to be trusted,
I won't place the blame.
I am not a proxy,
I am an astronaut,
But this distant world you live on,
Is far from my plot
1.8k · Dec 2018
The St. Claude Shuffle
trf Dec 2018
Live music is a sound machine,
On all four corners,
Gilded streets, nearly five in the morning,
Pavement feet meet ****** shoes
Shuffling down the block.

Pigeon claps & high hats,
Cat heads & piano chops,
Whiskey sours evening gowns,
Lemon drops with Father Brown.

The St. Claude Shuffle down the boulevard,
Where shoes straddle electric wires.
Sirens ring & bullets proof,
And the blues sing out of shotgun shacks.
This city's done a number on me
1.8k · Jan 2019
HA
trf Jan 2019
HA
it's a bone dry west
for a cool east summer
i'm steeple chasing baby
from a derby to a dungeon

orange cones on the left
bright beams on a Hummer
i'm flicking off the bird
from nevada to wyoming

get this load off my chest
it burns April like a stoner
i'm a bayou baby
from the streets of magnolia
HA, fuckit. you figure it out
1.7k · Nov 2017
you're so cool
trf Nov 2017
i smoke cigarettes, i'm cool.
my new orleans dialect, hasn't escaped me yet.
get high from the vet, i'm cool.
With my head down I’m staring up, from this deep K hole.

my coke is the best, i'm cool.
wearin' a crown to bed, those thorny cigarettes.

don't listen to anyone who's true,
live like you wanna be, that seems funny too.

die in your dreams, way past curfew,
the more it seems, those years'll laugh at you.

     the sky will bury you
     and burn you to the ground.
     hot air balloons,
     will fall upside down.

     life's label has no lesson,
     you grew and grew and grew.
     armor up this cap and gown,
     nightmares will pursue.

with all above regrets, i'm cool, i'm cool, i'm cool.
"amid the chaos of that day, when all i could hear was the thunder of gunshots and all i could smell was the violence in the air. I look back and i'm amazed, that my thoughts were so clear and true. that three words went through my mind endlessly, repeating themselves, like a broken record. you're so cool, you're so cool, you're so cool."
trf May 2018
i rest my head gently
against wooden beams,
cigarette smoke clouds
pillow case dreams

on a star spangled night
dangling feet off a ledge,
the moon bends light
along a noose i've pledged

the devil calls my name
the weight pulls me down
the angels aren't to blame
ignore their siren sound

i kneel beside my bed
and shake my fists above
this reckless life i've led
sings blue cobalt love
Overlooking Star mountain, my backyard's landscape; I like to have a break, dangle my bare feet over a 60 foot drop and try to smile. It's a sight to behold.
1.6k · Nov 2018
troubadour tenso
trf Nov 2018
i'm a yellow chill
a daffodil in the rain
thought i found my place
kinda heard to explain

sip each glass of wine
your palette needs a rest
taste his *******'s brine
along your lips

signing documents
you can't help hide your grin
sweat beading down your brow
my nervous penmanship

is this what they call peace
four hundred dollars an hour
the clock says nine past three
rounding up minutes they devour

caught you dead to rights
my son's new step father
when he sees your blight
harvest grapes turn sour

i feel constant dread
our son can't cope the truth
so far above his head
your soulless attribute

i'm a daffodil, more like a coward in the rain.
These troubadours, between truth and lies, corrupt lovers, women and husbands and keep saying that Love proceeds obliquely
A tenso (Old Occitan [tenˈsu, teⁿˈsu]) is a style of troubadour song. It takes the form of a debate in which each voice defends a position; common topics relate to love or ethics.
1.6k · May 2018
This All
trf May 2018
There's just no easy way to say
Packed a bag and I left the house today

I let you in and trusted you like therapy
Now my rear view reads you appear too close to me

I've just got no more time to spend
Check engine lights and I gotta pay the rent

Been putting this off like an overdue oil change
Speeding from a reflection in our window pane

I'm done with aching
And the Summer's bout to break
You'll be forgiven
But right now I must escape
This All.
1.3k · Jul 2018
What Wide Words
trf Jul 2018
Does your darkness forecast shadows,
A high noon noose hangs from the gallows,
Feel the sharks circling shallow,
Swim fast, I'm bleeding.

Peripheral landscapes drape your gilded chatter,
Purple & pink horizons, summon laughter,
Your eyes blink lightning speed patterns,
My clouds follow, miles per hour.

What in this wide world changes,
Can we live high on mountainsides,
Open our door to the strangers,
Surrender to the ocean tides.


~My palette craves color,
     Your canvas seeks attention,
       My callused fingers are covered,
          When your callous words are mentioned.
1.3k · Nov 2017
My Analog Heart
trf Nov 2017
Another haunt is arriving, feverishly fast tonight.
Somehow I managed to delay the feeling, briefly,
as it usually takes the manageable Subway and begins to fester around high noon, but today I skipped lunch,
and the feeling didn't go underground for her mode of transport.

"Maybe I hit the lotto?", I secretly questioned,
and the haunt would forget her requiem, passing over me
like those lucky "Kennedy Husbands" during the sixties' draft.
But I was getting divorced while all the other couples
were on a faster track heading in the opposite direction.

Tonight the haunt is traveling 248 mph,
on the Fùxīng Hào bullet train from Beijing to Shanghai, en route to Vietnam.

The conductor yelled, "All Aboard."
and as if that period denoted a punctual mark,
everyone manically crammed into the narrow vehicle.

The first influx of lovely passengers to board were,
Missus Anxiety, Sir Prior Transgressions and Dr. Heartache.
Unlike Dr. Feelgood,
They had been waiting in line from the previous night,
like those idiots for last week’s black Friday sale.

Mr. and Mrs. Payments Past Due cut in front of
Bills Esquire and Judge Job Insecurity,
for the Belmont Superfecta win, I guessed the right horses, just didn’t box my bet.

Congressman Careless and Deputy ******* nearly trampled Senator Surrender on the way through the turnstiles,
while Mayor Moan was flagged by security for groaning
and pulled aside for a pat down and wheelchair inspection.

The  Mayor was found to have ******* residue on his sleeve, but legitimate prescriptions for his aches and pains,
so TSA
wheeled him through the crack rocks

Analog veins pump analog blood to my analog heart;
traveling for the journey and not its hasty destination.  
My analog heart will eventually be shelved,
as it still salutes the Subway on its journey to my soul,
but like dusting off an old Coen Brothers flick,
my analog heart is still entertaining its vintage tick.
1.2k · Nov 2018
Rose Droll
trf Nov 2018
you could never take a compliment
they're buried with the rest of 'em

my mind is prone to atrophy
rewind your body next to me

no lies in our comfort zone
take this time turn off the phone

we are not an accident
don't be so incredulous

  it's getting dimmer, swimming in a shoal...
  dinner bells resound like white fog around a light pole...

heaven cannot face us
not to be complacent

devil wears my shoulder
your angel is adjacent

seven years of chances
still drowning in a basement

you could never take a compliment
they're buried with the rest of 'em
trf Mar 2018
Teeth chatter and butts raise above seats,
Riding pickups atop the corduroy road,
Thunder claps of rubber bass beats,
Slapping the undercarriage's rusty odes.

The tires rhythmic riffs are risky,
Clavinet keys echo wood beams over muddy water,
Walter Murphy drinks a Fifth of Beethoven's whiskey,
Leaving superstitions for Stevie to Wander.
1.1k · Dec 2016
Periodical Obscurities
trf Dec 2016
Crackling. Rocking. Crackling. Creaking and oscillating, a century old **Mahogany Wood seceded to the paSsage of time.
Particles of sand, confounded by the Peninsula’s chaotic, blasting breeze now revealed a shade of burnt tar.
   Outside of the second floor Maissonette, sways the rocking chair once warmed by Grandpa.
A Tactless, impatient, rhythmic Requiem Bashes near the wiNdow pane as the sunset falls Under the frame.  
                                                        ­    Empty Folklore presides like the Residue of a once lambent effigy…                                               SwOosh. Hush!
           Cocktails were a Preamble to lunch like diabetes to Nephropathy.
Corrosive Rhetoric seeped in to expose the ego of a Sommelier.
     A smile would Parachute down when you needed it like Nicotine to remind that no Precedent had been set, just an Anomaly.
                     Cutthroat beginnings, this was no Analog man.
        In grade school his Cosmos found Zion and “The world to come”.
        This baby’s Cradle, abandoned High atop a mountain was blown by a Chinook towards the Atlantic.
                “I was found swallowed in a stained Table cloth by Balkan children on a treasure hunt, with no Guarantee and no resignatIon. "
                     The boTtle narrates these chronicles and a smile parachutes down when you need it like nicotine.
                                          Dionysus Crafted his accounts while most Garnered his spiels with Snide.                               As they witnessed dream remembrance; he thought his memory was Presumably accurate, and although his tales were triFling to the gathering audience, they became his Heliocentric history.
            Calling me a young Galleon and handing me a map, Grandpa scanned his hand across the vast land
       guaranteeing trEasure would be found if I had no resignation.
               This Asinine assertion to my teenage sister Symbolized the Barring of her unheeding imagination by time and then a smile parachuted down just when she needed it like nicotine.


_TRF
In the bathroom of a pizza parlor there was an elongated, framed b&w; picture of the periodical table of elements. I took a picture of it and my flash glared in the middle which I thought looked neat so I manipulated the image so it was skewed and a little blurry and the above elements were the only ones that I could actually see from the photo. Credit to Breaking Bad.
1.1k · Nov 2018
Blue Ridge Burns
trf Nov 2018
The junction where smoke and fog reside,
gliding with western winds beneath these clouds,
the moon fades perilously from sight
and it rains ash.
A thousand candle wicks are pinched
as the scent of acres burn,
lit like the flames we blow out so easy.
Control is a funny word,
like when a doctor says, "She'll be fine, I've got this",
the arborist cries observing only skeletal remains,
as his patient has deceased having control to blame.
trf Dec 2018
~
if i came to you with solemn
could we pretend things were fine
rest your head on my chest
with our heart beat rhymes

if i came to you swollen
would you fetch frozen peas
dampen the dark circles
around my eyes

if i came with a gift
from an overseas trip
smuggled through customs
for your surprise

it's foggy in our kitchen
it's foggy in my head
let's talk till morning turns night

logging all those tears
on the back porch with wolves
blessed be the saints of sunrise
~
1.0k · Jan 2021
€¥€$
trf Jan 2021
did you laugh in your sleep last night,
how do you suffocate the fear,
can a dream feel your smile,
do your eyes wake up with tears.

empty bottles by your bedside,  
that friendly disguise disappears,
remedies fuel wildfires,
can a heartburn embrace the sear?

~trayfe_creates
i wish i could say that ive got no regrets.... But saying that would be one more to pile on my desk...
I wish I could say I've clung to time like gold...white lies wear black shoelaces
986 · Jul 2018
Southern Cicadas
trf Jul 2018
Tides move in swiftly
when the moon has to let us know
how powerful she is
and her phosphercsecent glow

Howling songs in the distance
like southern cicadas do
asking her to forgive us
holding hands next to you

I was born down south
I was raised by the heat
Cornbread in my mouth
I crave a country beat
When I go to the river
And the levy breaks
Don’t blame me
for all the mess we create

Southern cicadas
you sing lullabies
Like Mother Nature
You overwhelm the skies
But in the morning
And three cups of coffee
The only rhythm is my heart beating trepidatiously
trf Dec 2016
Couldn’t grasp a report today… dear child.
My broadcast body tuned to this frequency
Wouldn’t turn the channel ‘mind so beguiled
Me and my ******* voracious tendencies
Like a blood clot in my brain these words are filed
This new sensation is my delinquency.

Let’s shut it off... and get away.
Flip the switch on my ten-pound nemesis
Can shoulders bear its weight day after day
So Long the time has come to finish this.

This child as pure as I am blight; Let’s both be free.
Don’t Plant the Red Fern angel, he has long to Grow
Son, here’s my soul, please interchange with me
Like the boy I wonder, “Where will I go?”
As I’m not so proud of my biography
Alright Jack, it’s time to Get on the Road with this show.
Hell is a library with only one book, The Inferno.

_TRF 12/13/16
Sometimes things hit you hardest when even the softest of things could knock you down.
888 · May 2018
Carnivore Cruise
trf May 2018
The unscrupulous cavalry shuffled aboard narrow lanes,
Cutting in line towards Jager Bomb's tether,  
Cluttered duffel bags concealing cheap champagnes,
Passing cruise ship commuter's ruffled feathers.

With their fake, "excuse me's" en route to the bar,
Coercing the conductor who's been under the weather
With smug smiles and counterfeit Cuban cigars.

Leaving the harbor three sheets to the wind
The cowards commandeered Grandparents pool chairs,
A little past midnight with no foresight of end,
An abrupt brawl broke out, fists flying through air.

A sightseeing whale trip turned into a ship from hell,
The assailants now held in a South of Wales cell.
Have you been on a cruise ship in the past decade? *** is wrong with the public? Forget chivalry it's been deceased for years, and courtesy, ha, they can't even spell it. Tighten up muffuckrs, show some gd decency or at least a little human respect, dignity.  I have one simple rule in life, just one _ Don't be an asshole_That's all.  ~Report: "People vacationing on a Carnival cruise ship this week in the South Pacific had their trip turned upside down thanks to a series of violent brawls that seemed to transform the ship from a paradise into a fight club."
881 · Mar 2018
Day Trading Mineral Rights
trf Mar 2018
Sketching surveys of desolate dreams,
purveyors of private property plots,
their impatient greed,
ignoring purple spray paint warnings.

Six feet under, resting next to Grandpa's coffin,
live valuable minerals, their rights forgotten,
a farmer of soy beans, wheat and corn,
oil & gas law to Grandpa was foreign,
but he knew why our creek's current flowed north,
upwards, defying gravity or reason, why these men had come.

One time executive cowboy hats descended on the farm,
in pickup trucks, just purchased from an oil lot in Odessa,
Grandpa took aim and raised his Beretta,
their unfit hats lost to the blast, the only harm.

I was only five, when I saw his lengths of protection,
he took me on hunts for deer, boar, quail, dove,
would always aim his rifle, fire and miss,
blamed it on his eye sight, yet hit bullseyes on paper targets.

It took me 20 years to understand why, with swallowed pride,
he purposely missed killing these animals,
cursing his eyesight instead, winning an Oscar for his humble acts,
was he blinding me from death?

There was no vision impairment, I found out in hindsight,
probably the trauma witnessed, as he died with 20/20 eyesight.
If you have a grandparent or parent who is still living and they only have a few gallons left in their tank; please spend as much time with them a feasibly possible. Things that I can't explain in words will later make sense in your life, that might not have, when you were younger. I wish I could have 30 more minutes. What we used to perceive, we now later see.
834 · Dec 2017
West Texas Titties
trf Dec 2017
Those West Texas *******,
Sure look pretty good to me,
On the way back home,
to Nashville Tennessee.

I don't wanna hang out,
to the east, west, south or north.
Gonna write me a song,
swingin on my front porch.

Crickets sing in the background,
while feet stomp this here oak,
Pass me the slide and I'll take you on down the road.

My woman says I drink too much, and I agree with her,
Tie the devil round the bottle, make me a fishin' lure.

This Road's mighty ******* poor souls, especially the likes of me,
Take your candid pictures now, drown your worries down by the sea.

From where I stand today,
At sixty three years old,
I've lived twice the life,
of any man I've ever known.

No makeup, I got real scars,
All from after hour bars.
Read my poetry palms girl,
tell me If I'm near or far.

Played every stop along the way,
Sometimes got out for free.
Look at this face child,
Don't reckon I owe a fee.

Leaving those West Texas *******,
easier than it seems,
Gettin' back to my front porch is where I Wanna be.

_trf WPbumblefoot
Two notes and a bottle
815 · May 2018
Wide Open
trf May 2018
I'm wide open,
Standing stark at your front door,
Like a covered peep hole,
I'm not welcome anymore.

I'm wide open,
Your shadow frame cracks the floor,
But it's drifting away from me,
Scaling back the dinosaur.

Now I'm closed,
Alone in a clothing line,
Thrift stores we used to find,
Our vintage passing for time.

Do you suppose,
Roses are thorny vines,
Grapes don't smell like wine,
You were never the nurturing kind.
769 · Dec 2018
love, lies & marigold dyes
trf Dec 2018
love is gravity
& hearts plummet.
oxygen seizes
so why summit.
white flies lick
****** knees.
red skin burns
muddy pleas.

time is helium
& lies numb it.
suboxone eases
just for a moment.
marigold dyes
lazy grips.
kudzu spreads
like raging fits.
tethered to the brink
721 · Apr 2018
Watch Full Moon Tower
trf Apr 2018
Fluid rivers, their white noise and chilly inhaled lace
ease my mind's labyrinth, catching deep breaths
dancing in dreams of forest filled landscapes
like a child's security blanket, mother nature's embrace
we awake to marsh mellows and sticky coat hangers  
the dull, orange embers reignite purpose flames
as sunrise and coffee breaks the plains
a guitar lies naked near **** bottles of wine
reclaiming its tuning, strumming life into souls
and once the satsumas and the coffee's devoured
we bask in the sunshine, winding down hours
delaying the inevitable Watch Full Moon Tower
sometimes the smallest camping and music festivals bring out the true, most immaculate souls. your heart will find the places providing the essence of love, freedom and human potential, it knows where to look. Let it guide you and see where you stand.
trf Nov 2017
Black shoelace, tied in knots
basks my face with paltry plots
stole my heart like summer's sin
heat is threatened by cool wind
        Rear view mirror, burned by glow
        reflects a frozen, fragile soul
        they appear, my warm woes
        white lies, turn from ash to coal
Crave smoke rings, periled fade
round' my solo fireplace
truths can't find their crumbs to trace
her sparrow, sings a love charade
        All my years, i'm alive
        caches in my brain's hard drive
        my White lies, wear a Black shoelace
        they delve deep, digest disgrace..
trf Dec 2016
An inner conflict was brewing in the brain of this Regal Man.
Snap shots of his world come and go, having lost time as his memento.

He never missed the most important meeting on his calendar each day, same as planned.

His insipid body, a vehicle driven by the same shiny things that attract barracudas.

A papercut on his tongue from licking an envelope, was a microscopic distraction.

Yearning for a momentary state of bliss, it was time for his sinuous routine to get on with the show.

The ***** induced a memory of his stoicism, brought back to life as an afterglow.

Disparate cynics, cannot fathom these deepest of depths.  
Man can’t choose his D.N.A. like nomenclature.

Be blessed you are immune child and take a deep breath.
Habits may be hard to swallow by some; no plethora of education.
As much of a paradox as this may be, the pursuit of this dance is not feeling like death.

Knowing that every cylindrical spin of the pistol can determine the future,
Indulging in an appetite of chaos, will be sure to obscure.

Only hours before the celebration that gives thanks to our last Harvest,
A quandary this time was stewing in this stoic man’s galaxy.

On his left shoulder was a badger, putting his life to THE TEST.
To his right was an angel, her relentless pleas dismissed.

Like being beset in quicksand, he dreamed that option was best.
A thought went through his head but vanished like a wave at sea.
Licking his fingers to feel the wind he sang out, “Memeto- Mori”. (Remember Your Death)

11/20/16 By _TRF R.I. P.hriend
best friend left 3 children, a beautiful wife, friends, family and life...behind. as he took the road mainly traveled by the needle that escapes humanity. Selfish, some may say, but to not understand is the role we must play. Leaping to his splatter, this wretched vehicle was doomed to despair everyone involved
659 · Nov 2017
EBBS & flows
trf Nov 2017
stage life...
is so complicated
they'll confiscate it
your eyes will summit
their stocks will plummet

stage life...
is an oxymoron
you'll labor for em
your body's numb, once
stitched seams come undone

lick your finger.............
                     wine rims sing about it
lick your finger.............
                     counter to clockwise flow
lick your finger.............
                    add your liquidity
lick your finger.............
                    finer tuned frequencies
lick your finger.............
                   consume their recipe
lick your finger.............
                   won't find harmony
lick your finger.............
                   blood soaked oath's decrees

stage fright...
it comes in droves
watches all your moves
ebbs and flows

cautiously, write about it
cannot hide, darkest hours
insatiably, desired thirst
tie dye shirts, passion's curse
drink whiskey, pour a cup
no replies , it's all ****** up.
657 · Mar 2019
bleach
trf Mar 2019
close your eyes when
smoky mirrors reflect a fragile soul,
sporadic drips from the faucet
hit cigarette stained porcelain
and you're not in control.

candy corn orange battles
yellow cowardice grips,
over brick roads and white tips
of which you will walk upon.

bleach seeps into crevasses
weakening white ivory,
rationalizing your pores
to blister like sun damaged skin,
your reflection.
damage
628 · Oct 2017
let mascara run wild
trf Oct 2017
i called up my momma
but she wouldn't answer
gettin' old but still feel like a child

i went to my doctor
but he just turned ninety
writes scripts with a wink and a smile

dialed the phone to my lawyer
she sent it to voicemail
debts piling up in my file

texted friends far and near
honesty is too sincere
alone i will walk this mile

eyes
don't wanna see
mediocrity

drivin' through the tunnels,
hold your breath but don't fall asleep

high eyes
wanna be free
like virginity

drivin' through the tunnels,
hold your breath but don't fall asleep

i can't be liable
for all of your pleas
the'll inseminate some
just like a bee
those falling crumbs
swept meticulously
in the long run
please incriminate me

i'm your foot off the brake
the gear's now in neutral
you can turn a deaf ear
although it will be futile
pry your hands off the wheel
while you try to escape
don't take your last breath
foreseen cannot forsake...
"we're humans, we're *****. thank god i have ways to numb the pain"
612 · May 2018
Telluride High
trf May 2018
I herd these sheep in the silence of the lambo
I process trees into paper, smokin' ammo
A solo man on a mission like I'm rambo
Ernst and Young's got my ***** laundry handled.

I can tell you ride high
In Telluride skies
As the crow flies
From a perch with wide eyes

Pour out a fifth of Bacardi
When you're surrounded by lies
Flush them out like John Gotti
Ice picks their demise.

Yea, rest in peace
You heard me twice, I didn't blink
Counting sheep
Your contract's ceased, I signed the ink
Time to sleep
I raise a glass to have a drink
I kissed your cheek
Rats don't have time to think.

I can tell you ride high
In Telluride skies
As a crow flies
From a perch with wide eyes

Pour out a fifth of Bacardi
When you're surrounded by lies
Flush them out like John Gotti
Ice picks their demise.
Ya gotta love the lyrical stew of poetry in rap songs sometimes. Throw humble out the window and ball till ya fall. Hahahaha. This fun had to be done
trf Dec 2016
Up high above in the dark nights of fall,
Shines a Star that’s more stark than other flashing lights that lure,
Burning since the birth of time, hazy hindrances still may obscure,
Like bait that patiently awaits the oblivious all.

They say one is born every day, but only you illuminate bliss,
You can escape from this infinite space and when shooting make a wish,
Radiate through the hate, create a new fate, you are unique- Not a spate- and amaze everyone,
Oblique where I gaze you are nigh shiny sun.

She came, she saw, she wondered in awe, “where will I be?”
Are the words that pierced Stella’s skin written as a scrawl? Time will tell and we will see.

-TRF
Written on two cocktail napkins for a sad stripper who was stage named Star and who's real name was Erika. She was only 20 years old and had "Veni Vedi Vici" tattooed across her shoulder. She may have come and she may have saw, but I wanted her to conquer all and to free her from this despicable place where bachelor parties and creepiness blend in with the smoke and glitter. This Soul Snatcher of 20 year olds. Bouncers getting ******* and still keeping 20 percent. Using that tip money to pay off the cops so they can nearly **** Bachelors in the half empty parking lot for "getting too close and rowdy". **** this sinister industry for existing to allow even the option for people to make decent money. It's costing them too much for too little.
598 · Oct 2018
make sense to me
trf Oct 2018
trace your faint touch down my rib cage,
whispered nails hush my chest,
let's synch our heart beats,
exhale burgundy breath,
that cheap red wine
and our ultra violet teeth.

unlace your lucid lust,
cocoons under silk sheets,
thread counts are high,
your body next to me.

your head rests gently,
my arm falls asleep,
i try not to move,
make sense to me.
576 · Mar 2020
these days seam
trf Mar 2020
sewing time together,
we scribe our narrative,
your lace stitches leather,
like a seamstress.

failures don't forget me,
i'm their stone to engrave,
designed imperfections
and a chiseled face.

close enough to notice,
constellations are yarn,
unthreading in the distance,
these days seam apart.
571 · Jun 2018
Marco! Yolo!
trf Jun 2018
Droplets of rain marbles
splatter on the tin roof
and weigh hungover leaves,
anticipating summer's sweat.
Conga circles drum cricket croaks,
their symphonic looping chorus
dazes time as stars gaze.

Rabbits are everywhere,
halting but not fazed by my high beams
while the tornado siren sounds,
my cue to get naked.

Atlanta reigns the ***** and pills,
so I stay far away,
just ninety three miles south of these hills,
we can't trust me in that place.
trf Jan 2017
In a state of catatonic epilepsy, the fragments flux throughout my head.
This paradox lays atop my pillow as I remember about baby steps and think about Bob.
I calmly ask myself to turn the lamp off, but my arm can’t reach the light.
Yelling, “Go-Go Gadget Arm”, I realize my imagination is fake.

Now gone when I need him I lay and wonder, where is Drop Dead Fred.
Anything to get my mind away from this torturous Blob.
Night and day are little monsters beneath my bed with a ferocious fight.
I reach instead for the bottle that makes sounds that shake like a rattlesnake.

After four of those, each vivid memory is as vague as the next
and the paradox continues…

_TRF
"Bubblicous that's what this is. Snappin Apple. Hip Hop star may be what you are, but berry cherry blast will take you very far. I got the taste to pop in yo' face. Do the ultimate thing where the Bubblicious king. It's back, we don't quit, we're the ultimate. Bubble, Bubbliscious."
-This kind of **** gets stuck in my head when I lay it down. I haven't heard this commercial for bubble gum since I was 6.
trf Dec 2016
Indulge in chaos with an appetite of tremendous conviction.
Hastily retrace your preamble that drapes the window pane like the silhouette of a cynic,
Divulge the albatross of plight to escape eviction
And lay waste the shambles that shape a widow’ s pain beset by a mimic.

An insipid eye for uninspired lies,
She forged herself an eponymous name,
Like holding a vigil for a pessimist when in Retrospect the glass is half full.
An under-dog recounts our demise,
Misfortune subsides having only the ***** to blame,
Lack of abuse is an act of kindness,
As Jan-Erik Olsson has no sympathy for the devil.

_TRF
539 · Feb 2018
Opium
trf Feb 2018
temptations wear me,
frothed cloth and feathered clinch,
hallow helium exhaling smoke rings,
glass ripe with flames.

*****, *******, rescue me,
powder and fog, won't you let me see.

cut the line,
don't sweat the shirt,
this great escape,
for what it's worth,
memories,
lost to dirt,
hear these pleas,
fear my hurt.

*****, *******, rescue me,
powder and fog, won't you let me see.

with a draw i write,
forget my body,
forfeit my mind,
bring it back around,
to cul-de-sac town,
alarms wake my dreams,
i'm lost and found.
try askin the dark where the light comes from
trf Nov 2017
there's something humbling,
about the way i feel,
when a darker figure,
around me appears.
this testimony,
won't quench like a meal,
and these sirens
surely won't make it real.

   i'm enlightened,
   but still can't comprehend,
   all of this violence,
   between man's so called friends,
   don't confide in us,
   we cannot understand,
   that there's no difference,
   between two humans.

   you see i did it,
   although an accident,
   was born with it,
   used the words us and them,
   i won't forget it,
   we're not yet blendin' in,
until we all die, we must pay the rent.

ya see these shrimp were exhausting all their energy,
swimmin' in caves as dark as our synergy,
dying off,
they couldn't help their friends,
cause they had to deal with all the elements.

there's a cost to existing in a cave,
can't attest to the cost of living like a slave,
my own boss, i'm eluding to the trends,
     don't need no more widows of veterans.

until we use all our five SENSES,
and cross out all our hate,
exude all of our energy,
especially as of late.

we are doomed for a century,
we reside in this cave,
you cannot hide your emotions,
they will not compensate,
for all this pride you deserve,
you can't help but feel it,
until we find a remedy,
we'll be unnerved, no sealant.
"these micro-miracles of evolution,
live in the black depths of a river here,
in a sunless cave in Madagascar."
511 · Aug 2019
do not resuscitate
trf Aug 2019
i breathe in pain
and exhale art
i smoke freedom
to handcuff dark

brush stroke feelings
flit my escape
i shift notion
like fire flies

yellow shades blue
our canvas dies
i am in lieu
do not revive
511 · May 2018
Should Eyes
trf May 2018
Stares from the albatross surround me,
like a helpless fish in a sea of what if's,
their soulless, solemn Should Eyes
glare into my dreaded abyss.

Curtains are drawn and doors are locked,
but Should Eyes creep through cracks
the way air and ants get in.

My spine sweats subtle weight
sending shivers down dampened vertebrae,
while anxiously awaiting another day.

WHAT IF I SHOULD?
There is a court date of what if's and should I's coming. We have all been subpoenaed and are in this together. You will know when to show up. Mine is tomorrow.
"The People vs. The End"
504 · Dec 2017
Fluid Resolve
trf Dec 2017
Winds howl through stricken streams,
From the moonshined mountains spiking Tennessee.
Steaming copper pipes protect like turpentine,
Cherish the soil from vine to wine.

Sweetwater medicine crosses Big Sky Country lines,
And a Capitol drowns voice's reedy rhynes.
The Carolines and swamps round' New Orleans,
Spokane's foothills spire like Woodland's Cherokees.

Mushroom clouds swooped ponderosa pines,
In the desert one day, made the earth cry.

Oh Beautiful, not time to flee,
The Jersey Wetlands or Houston's calamity,
Analogous feats, magnetic societies, 
Build a bridge across contrary beliefs. 

_trf
501 · May 2018
Black Tar and Feathers
trf May 2018
In the black, humid tunnels of clouded vision
where pipers are paid to hush calamity
and the souls of skeletons adhere to forbidden
pushing whispers of thought's public opinion.

The alluring alley of cowardly escapades
alters narrow minds and their sinuous route
like bipolar magnets fluxing compass charades,
coordinates spin during times of solitude.

To dampen the thunder in mental basements
brewing like home-kit craft beers,
the lightning strikes and fear laments
after an ****** of resentment.
488 · Feb 2019
blight battles
trf Feb 2019
Our love is like a river
Water flowing out our eyes
These twists and turns that tangle
A never ending surprise

Our love exists in battles
Will we ever win the war
When I take two steps backwards
You take four steps towards the door

Our hate is like an orchard
In desperate need of rain
The withering fruit you dangle
Weighing heavy on my vine


Fast times, pretty things are sowing
the green grass is growing and
illusions are pulling us apart
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