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Jan 2020 · 35
Miss You
Aditya Roy Jan 2020
There is a little feeling
Inside me  it says don't think
Twice and it's alright
That's why I talked last night
Leave with me as the leaves fall
On the river of forgotten sorrows under the bridge
And tell me what you see

Must I remind you
How much you're gonna miss me
I'd take you for a good girl again
How far along without me will you go

Allaying her worries
She says
Don't people watch silly soap operas eating tiramisu
And lust after those sensual languid queens just like me
What's up in your home, she asks
Under the shade it's the same with you and me
As long as the sun and you are over my head, under a tree
I've forgotten you and me

Now look at me, struggling day and night
To do everything this time
I'm just a lonesome lover
I need a woman who can see through eyes that look twice
I see just a childish apparition of love that is
Jan 2020 · 14
Raven haired girl
Aditya Roy Jan 2020
You can sit with me
I see it in your eyes
That you need me
There is a secret garden you hide
In those vibes, you send me
When I pick that flower from your heart sign
Jan 2020 · 30
Heart of Sun
Aditya Roy Jan 2020
Don't shed a tear for me
For I have no love
Don't cry for me again
For I have no I love yous for you
The revolution has jailed me
I am in love with the war
But I need freedom from the enemy
The enemy who will cry for me when I die
Just like the heart of the sun asks us to slave away everyday
Aditya Roy Jan 2020
My days' regards
The herbal tea sat
On the letter next to me
Decided I'd go for a stroll
In the cathedral, perchance
God and his son looking for the night
In downtown New York
My poetess friends brush up
On their English
As day touches night
And as evening dulls down
On the well remembered gaiety of memory
The autumn break with it's ruby scenery
Sitting next to the fire, I never felt colder
Those were the days when children were innocent
And now I'm the rank outsider
Jan 2020 · 25
Touch
Aditya Roy Jan 2020
I wish
I could look
At your eyes
And wipe away the tears
That touch your smile
In the pursuit of happiness
Jan 2020 · 27
We were children
Aditya Roy Jan 2020
She touches nature within
She is a high cloud on a dull plateau
She runs like the wind
She is all around

We made water out of stone, son of man
Making you and I possible
She is everything love could possibly be
She is April, the kindest month
Once more cruel
Jan 2020 · 33
Arms full
Aditya Roy Jan 2020
Since when I was a kid
I never minded your hand in mine
Because no one had held me that tightly
Jan 2020 · 28
Cloud
Aditya Roy Jan 2020
Silence when held
Is the virtue
Of one who holds it
Like a cloud holding thunder and rain
Jan 2020 · 33
Sing
Aditya Roy Jan 2020
This is a little
Embarrassing
So please sing
Jan 2020 · 20
You
Aditya Roy Jan 2020
You
Have there been
Times when we
Met in a lonesome cabin
Jan 2020 · 11
The Steam engine
Aditya Roy Jan 2020
She climbs
And falls
As she sips darkness
Jan 2020 · 43
Hyacinth Girl
Aditya Roy Jan 2020
Blue is the warmest color, rushing
New people to get ready, waiting
For summer to come as a surprise no longer, lovingly
Springing sprightly calves of the lands to their feet, rejuvenating
The days of cloudiness that will end, finally
Blue arrives again out of the land, feverishly
When the eater and the eaten meet eye to eye, silently
When the poet and the audience see eye to eye, properly
Appreciating the acting and composing, rueful
Of death as they disappear into the holy skies, leaving
The colors of life, circling
Behind us an ecosystem of plants and animals
It is beautiful neither to be living nor dying
Let us go then you and I, curiously
Into the circle of life without suffering
Jan 2020 · 17
They Love Him Madly
Aditya Roy Jan 2020
The birds come out
Summer death, les fleurs
Owls sleep and the roadside cur
Be it that they understand
These creature love the moonshine
Like a smorgasbord of moonbeams
Jan 2020 · 16
The last whinge
Aditya Roy Jan 2020
I lost a gully boy
To a guitar girl
Who fell for a lost lover
Set out to rule the world
On a voyage, with others
Forever
Sep 2019 · 139
Wooolen Tassels
Aditya Roy Sep 2019
The children ring the doorbell
The door hears it
The love yous I share with big licks
The love yous I share with lickety sticks
The voulez vous lists of the bon often bonfire
The volute often pollute the years of ulterior motives
Break your back, heart needs
We can be champions of our lives, if we wrote our own stories
The years go by as love the look in your eyes
The days go as some ****** takes the pull from your woolen tassels
Sep 2019 · 131
Hey Joe
Aditya Roy Sep 2019
she was sharper
than she was honored
than she was thy daughter
Thankfully she didn't cut my life's gun
Knockin' on heaven's door, shot in the dark
Smile in the dark
I see you shoot starbeams at my just wind
I see you shoot lasers into my wet eyes
I part at the seams, and the child washes over me
I perfect thy lifeless body in the icicle of the gauged mines
Put my hand on my hand, and touch the lantern
Torch the lantern, if it burns we have passion...
You have depths without measure
Compare thee with a sonnet
Mortgage thy will
Hope is a ligature mark
Wanted to assure the world that i live on a road that goes a gas station
Here goes, want a ice or water
Do you want frozen or cold
On my hand
What does a toad and frog
Have in common
Uncommon hops
What does a lantern and torch
What does a lat and flat
What does a latitude have with a flat dude?
Hey flat top come over
Gator shirt eat my ****
Handless sleeves fill
Lark my looks
Here are my hooks
I'm in the middle of a song
I'm in the pestering skirmishes of war
So, keep walking and hang on
Keep running and walk on
Keep lifeless day dreams to help you eat
Keep your land and my feet together, you brilliant write
Keep your lassoes on my feet, and my last soul

If I'm a dreamer, I want another one
But, she is a dreamer that never wakes up
Did that summer put a fire in your auburn soul
Did that winter push the last of icy cycling through the rainforest, do you need a vacation
Do you need a meditated latitude
Do you need a lamp?
What do you have?
What do you have?

Here we are, and here we go
Is that all there is to stationing our last minds on our last guys
I love you and love you, but the there are there and that
It's just moving around, and no substrata
No stance on substitute for a witty existence

*******, I'll **** you now
*******, I'll **** your mouth

Find my life in your passages
Sep 2019 · 101
Lag Jet
Aditya Roy Sep 2019
Too much to say
Too much to stay for
To stay without it, within it
It is too much to talk about
So we talk about our heroes
And we marry the heroins
We fly like the herons on a rude bridge
Tersely overlooking the mountain moonlight
It could find the gust and lust of guys
It could push the lintel and swing with the massacre
Red and black be my very good din
Black and blue, and red dress be thy rich color
I mean I could be a reader, on your book pile
I live in a book, read it back and it would be steel wings
Sep 2019 · 118
Life Do It
Aditya Roy Sep 2019
I have findings
Of mine
I have lifelines
Of mine
I have a smile
Of yours
It does it, for my life cannot ligature
If I have that life, life can do without it
Creation, and creatures of dungeons
So you like dragons
Do you fly in the night with their fire
Or watch the waters touch upon your lifeless gush
Reflection can blush, knife can stag your back
Sep 2019 · 96
Life Loves yOu
Aditya Roy Sep 2019
You're the queen of my heart
I don't remember your name
But, I call you the killer queen
When you treason, you become a king crusher
Sep 2019 · 216
Love
Aditya Roy Sep 2019
You've done this before
You've stole my heart and
Stolen my words, and left 3 words
Sep 2019 · 108
Lost On The Ghost Gun
Aditya Roy Sep 2019
Can you call me perfect
If you don't love my imperfections
Sep 2019 · 89
I need Mines
Aditya Roy Sep 2019
Catch my head
Catch my meagre feelings
And turn them into lovely ones
Catch my head
Catch my hand turns on the stone
Catch my life before the stone turns to ghost

Before the time
Turns to dust
We are young again
We are talking lau and laulun


Before the time
Turns to lists and pushing feelings
Find the ghost of guns
Find the west of winds
Free us and free this life gypsy
Praise the life of the earnest girl
Can I say I love you in three words
Or do I have to say it many uncounted times

I need your guise
I need your life
I need your lies and the fake prize
Which you find getting better with the treasures

I need your guile
I need your life
I need your kajones
I hand my fingers
And unhand my looks
I talk of your passion, and make it mine

If you like live wires
You'll love this gold mine of a heart
It accepts people of kinds, and some open their hearts
Some accept hearts, and hear them
Some learn about their sounds and are trapped in them
I'm one of those daylight sinners
I'm dimly lit guy in the back jacket of mack the knife
In the red footsteps of blue oceans
In the yellow stone, I love you
In the red stone, I love you
In the blue stone, I play and I love
In the purple heart, I find my guns finding their place
In the light in the darkness, and the gentleman speaks of honor
In the dark of nights, where we are lively and plight of giving
That's the tragedy of life, and antelid
Sep 2019 · 69
Wire
Aditya Roy Sep 2019
All the illness
Aside, and the made
Listen to them
All the peace
Aside, and the land
Of landwinners
All illness
Casts them aside
In the free fire
Sep 2019 · 62
It's A Green
Aditya Roy Sep 2019
I have seven lives
I have seven days
How many of them will I use
Sep 2019 · 92
Axylon
Aditya Roy Sep 2019
Here lies the endeth lesson
The believe ends
With the jejunellies stop when the lies
With the dandelions as we garrison the climb the steppe can climb
Here lies the free will lies within the girl
Sighs again
Here lies the pressing mead, measure mulling Axylon
Here we are on the stars and under the stars
Halcyon halo when london burns
You heart burns in London
I left my hands on her ken
I left my heads on her akin
Leaving the burning the stormy ******* women
The jealous ones can live their jealous lives
I wait for the doubts to come
Foolish boor said sanctum caitiff
Sanctorum can live for life on fir trees
I sang with the wild
I traced the wild
I touched the wild
To land on the stale sky
There lies the mon dieu sais je toujour aujour quest ce que sil vous avec pense ecriree
LA nous allons
Le fille de magnique
Le mille du pont connais pas
Francais pas non je pardon ne moi
I'm singing because my heart is silent
THe roses can turn blue
If my roses afternoon falls with the ashes
If my love fails pick at my hate, Teddy Bear
If my journey fails me, I need your silent stare and your wisdom
I feel high, kono kata de kai mono kono warui na
It's a bus, a bus that travels farther than the metro station 4th arrondisement
Howling wind, carry us in he moonlit spoon
I burn myself in a silent way when the weight becomes last
Orange bushes and red roses in the fir trees
Axylon and Pamphyllion
Greater than good lives serfs had found their freedom
Heading out into the world I had lost my love
Sep 2019 · 137
Arianna
Aditya Roy Sep 2019
Silent screams and rages
verse dreams and sarcastic sages
The row believes in the youth of middle aged men
All belittle the your heart when hoping your pang fear
And spring into delirium, and bright gold
Bright light makes heat light asking for you to kneel
In red and leaves of gold, I ask for company
In dead cyka soldiers, the dead of the night
Brings out the company, where you might want a piano key
Loosened, and a guitar string, tuned and pulled

Silent svelte girls all are on the shore
As you she shifts she hasselblad fought him ****
Tea, as the ballad of the hounddog
Go the round midnight, call me after life
GO here, and come back by her fingers girls
In her life, is white, there is blyke
Everyone has a Jekkyl Hyyde
She doesnt know who he she means
After the shindig of time, singing life
Keep it in her, she rights the wall, and rides the fences
She rides the friendly horses, I know you before friends have ***
Feel my living, light my love with food of life
Make me right wrong is the rife
Kaddish sits on the wrong her
Reflection of lapas lazuli and Meer
Urst auf von bon, werst worde gert
Someone took the art killed it with joy
Someone lifted her with the ploy
**** and feet tastes summer and winter tastes like sum
Feets and passerby, touch my *** please master
grace my pallor with your heat, and gush in the blood of the great hand
Slow dots and polka dance that enrichen the glib gleam of Arriana
If friends were enemies and enemies were friends, and friends were summers
The winters would leave with the lush green forests that smell grape and touch my dots and follow my valley
On a figged donkey sorry masturbator
I want you to ride the wind, with gully
I want you rise with the wind, and touch my langstromme with lakes of stowaways
I want you to leave with the wind I feel the wish that touches your heart
I want yin and yang, not love
I want your balance, and not your senses

The end is the beginning when the fire comes out of the blessed wind
The end is near, the tin can man fires the black and blue
The middleman has her hips in the red roses and the masks, and so Im here to **** you
In my whips and my black college wants your education
Education is near, and you are far and tresses of your hair
Egregious error, was to frame you and keep you in my heart
When I couldn't see the picture
Innocence is a true picture
I want you, I want you love me
I want gush virgins and rush astral stars that hearts cant keep
I want the rushed visions that allotropes the love keeps me lively
Me and Ann lively
Aug 2019 · 83
Ready To Orphanage
Aditya Roy Aug 2019
If I know it is love
They hide under my bed

Until the end of time, I want you asleep

They hide under my bed
Why would I **** anyone, if I hate waking up
I want to **** those souls
Who are lost love in the foggy dust where starshine
Them monsters hide in my darkness
Cometh the dark of ephemeral gaze
Knowledge, cometh hath endless will
They hide under my bed

I want to **** them, with an arm that holds gold
But, doesn't lose the riches to ones who slave
With open arms, they held me in lads of maggie's farm
When the arms shut, the part of books was lost where we were
I wish we were younger

Love is as it merits
With open daydreams, I need you ready for the hostel
When the arms dry, the water gushes through valleys as gelid ice T
The fearful night that
I want your understanding, not your patience
Write your heart on parchment, and gray days left the blue skies
In the fair lovely heather, feather, come hither and gather
Lift my soul, and my soul is hopeful
That someday that you will be my real name, God
God, I don't know if I know love or this earth

Hope is a dangerous thing
Dangerous minds need true faces and true crime
Present, here and now, here and jaguar
I love your soul, I love you maybe
If I know what free will is, take my heart on the urn
Turn my soul into ashen dust, fear my hands of gray dry dusk
With laconic faces, and pure hearts
When I left you I left with dreams
When I left you I left with dreamy people
When I left you I left with my greater gin

You taught me how drink
I used to drink water
And now I drink lassoes in the skies

You teach me how to fall into puddles of love
Caged and a page from my book, here and there is now
Pray tell me, what is happening to you daughter
Do you have a prodigal son?

You taught me how to drink wails
You taught me how to look into the sea
Of lost soul? In a farewell for twisted souls
Please keep me home, or keep me safe from tomes
Please keep us together when we are part of the lads that fight for madness
As the center pop, the stages stars into
Realized crowded women, and unrealized men
Who watch the movie for the lanes.
Aug 2019 · 59
Monsters
Aditya Roy Aug 2019
They think they are in heaven
But they are the lonely ones
They think they love the man
Equally, but, they are the lovely ones
They think they love the woman
Equally, but they are the passionate ones
They think my heart and soul, can break my spirit
TOuch me now, and leave me in peace
Touch me now, and breath my hair
I have little fingers, to caress your bald head
Touch me, and I want your breathing eyes
Touch me, and I live with your past
Touch me, and I live with you
TOuch me, and I live with your lonely woman
Touch me, I live with my mother, with her father and sister
Touch me, I live in the house to cook and have germane
TOuch me, I live within the sinners who look for souls
TOuch me, o me o my captain, my harbored old soul
Touched upon the brightest emotions, and left on the darkest tides
We make our own stories, and cannot find it in others
That's why you shouldn't like it, you think the girl I am the one, that's why you shouldn't wonder about it.
Your soul is so lost
It has so much to lose
I will write you a bedtime stories
I will write you a beautiful sermon, to save your soul with the demon in our heads
I will write you a beautiful feeling, to save your soul with the angels in our breath and the humans in our soul
I wish for your happiness
I want your happiness
I wish you could take my soul on another place, and feel better.
I wish you could stop fighting the power, and nations of millions
I wish you could stop fighting poverty if you can't eat.
If I want you to make my bed, I want you to take my sleep.
If you want the love of someone, the morning has come
Aug 2019 · 75
Milk And Honey
Aditya Roy Aug 2019
I love your *******
So much
I want the milk and haggard lard
Areolar harmony , spinsters can like it hot
But, the stirred souls like that sandy beaches
That I hate my country
But, the woman changed my soulless miles.
Aug 2019 · 104
Proceeds To Poverty
Aditya Roy Aug 2019
Proceeding talents
Natural and gold nags
With our auriferous desire
Aug 2019 · 92
Kamakaze
Aditya Roy Aug 2019
I met a traveler
Form a game that can't feel
Maze lives in the belladonna leaves
Icarus turn those wings into rust, gold my ashes, my medical soul on my broken boulder
It's so tough to be a better person, like a world-less prisoner
He' my life, oh ye my breath take lazy life, got your head on a dinner on the spirited dinner
He needs a talk, for a typewriter
my life caught on to you like a pushy burrow
Childish dreams left in the grateful lackadaisical
With the bone, breaking with anticipation
,left with mad lake and the angel singer
I end a badge to marker my badge oh wise sinner
With orgiastic life, within the graces of molasses that malice
Novena, we art thou in the Garrett in the chalice
If you take me on a holiday on the sun
If you are breath, take my life away
In kindness as gesture, is frenzy and the freak that reasons
The lad that takes our pries away, and our judged prairies
The laughter takes the ostensible mad cap, in the praises of June and July, April's frugal rage and jejune nature
often the hen and the cage go away together, as we live in the setting sun of the rooster day,
We need you to fight this right, where halycon coniferous trees tease the bullish flags, in the wasted landslide
Take my breath,  toast my roses and my your tassle for my gown
And the glasses on the Mildred, chicken, toad, gully boy when we fell in love with a pastor
I search for gist
I find your head in the list
What's you number on coffee town, and the gestalt of the grocery roses
I love, I loved my hips to marry your handles
The plumber said war is hell on the falling doltish to the emanates scent with nature
I'd w03space
I want your festering war, not your love I want your litter
I want the sun, but you got the iridescent garrisoned moon in your eyes instead
I like the rain, to hide the clouds
A simple heart to warm the clouds
A thunderous clap to start the rage, Harrison the ark
The years of twenty slaves
Brought rage
Often his life will be taken, and take hath will
Portage him in leeches
Beseeches to turn into an earthworm, some parts still made
Us so ugly, but, so evil
us so beat, laughter turned endlessly ugly
Your so hello together, in the farewell of Novembers of rain, there is the year of the Marks, the coin of Allegiance
Brought down the heart of the JD Town
I really never, take the path that lead
The speak wilting flowers, friends that fall with the start of gully pads
Deli pads, that Galahad brought on boughs and stare
Here and there
Stare and stone roses, stony ******* turned to red earth
Take my rain, Singing rain burn my world's fire
My hearts bleeding to earth, but, my mind wants your flail thistle, whistle
Whistle, with the wind, resonant stars with the innocent picture

Peace is always, innocent picture is peace
The protest march laughs at the approval of consolation
Is your name a falling star,
is your mandrake root cat, hot innit roof your name in fallacy, and I can't have your name.
But, I want your toys in the yard.
Maya, In a torn nation good clothes are laying baby's than a cold lie in the heart of darkness.
If you leave your **** on, I want you to leave your hat hanging.
****
Aug 2019 · 89
Jetlag Lago
Aditya Roy Aug 2019
Have no pillow
I take my heart in a coroner
Report
Leave my tools on the gold mine
Fools can take my fold
Sting my ray
Lark my lackey and strike my bow
I need come and take me away
Live in the east wind and lasso my west wind
Keep my odious gold here and there
Ladle on the minor Asian, and Odoriferous gold
Report
My mortared soul
Take my breath away, with lava lamps
I'm just here in the right fast lane
I need a deluge, a guy needs a space
My ghoul, my Tokyo dream, breathlag
Jetlag
Aug 2019 · 101
Restroom Fool
Aditya Roy Aug 2019
We need blue ice
And air
Your hair takes
My breTH AWAY
Aug 2019 · 82
Langstromme Hund
Aditya Roy Aug 2019
We MET YOU LONG BACK
we came on the same grounds
Looking for a flair
That glassed my ice cake
******* surprise, keep the cherries in the cherubs
bush takes
Away  the difference
We came for hoes to just line silver
Aug 2019 · 98
Ordinary Beezlebub
Aditya Roy Aug 2019
Where it falls out, I die.
Forgiving my soul, for losing the hours to the strangeness
Here I stand taking down my nailed name, on abseiling sails
I love you all equally, when you meekly smile when you touch the sky
O’ Holy Light, do not go gentle in the good night
Time comes alive with forked lightning and dies with clicking clock of ticking time bombs
Aug 2019 · 179
Regional Ann
Aditya Roy Aug 2019
Fall down in my puddle of love
Child I love my life,
Pray child, can I get my ghoul back from the Tokyo, tonight’s a dream
Dreaming little ‘bout you, you know I would seen it coming
Did you see what Hades did to her with forked lighting?
Ending slowly on the second coming. They conversed with the beginning of military time.
The time left a little unresolved.
Where it falls out, I die.
Aug 2019 · 93
Rummy
Aditya Roy Aug 2019
I want to talk to someone
In the house of cards
But, never ******* fall so we rummy, dealt under
Aug 2019 · 65
The Days That
Aditya Roy Aug 2019
Keep
Your
Broken
Heart
In
Your
Extraordinary
Soul
In
The Days Those Are Dead
Aditya Roy Aug 2019
It's a bit of laughter, that goes a long way to just you
If it comes as no surprise, it goes a long way if we, you're you
Looking for canvases of fruits, and tapedecks of Japan, dying pretty hard
My life's in misery, but, I don't what, does it fear to live?
My life's in inescapable fear, and I don't know what it means
Oh doctor, tell me why will my thy will open to the eye of sun and heaven and earth, red earth I'm bleeding out in these rags forlorn for the lost feeling
Hold my high hopes, in the kite running skies that leave my thoughts dry as long as the picture is finding innocence in your reasons, two simple reasons why this in spells of manic depression
Trapped in a young man, and old and dead that spurs madness
Doesn't the piano chime with the murderous hope in my skullduggerous soul, I don't deserve this madness
Dreaming up of skulls, suddenly realizing the death of thine light in my eyes very dubious, beyond false compare
He said I'd just write you free-prose poetry, but, I'm looking for another letter of the Hades Gate, who heard him leave
I'm blowing in the wind, but, I'm drowning in madhouses
Raging with innocence, innocuous and capricious caveats, and talk of the passion without immediate conscious experience
I'm a body without consciousness, and I hear you in the starry skies of your loveless dust ordered in the years of rag ***** and talk of artichokes artistic, chokes me to tears to see what we've become
In a generation of hysterical madness, and I saw the best minds in the yearly bestsellers written by droning bickering pretentiousness, looking for childhood, they found their flickering peace in their cooked up courage in the collated document of liverwurst and hog tails that promised the empty soul to offer its confusion in a soup of surly murmurs in this silent sky, what ideal do I love to choose, adding two and two?
I'm forgetting everyone when I realize I should have forgotten them a long time ago, in the centuries that repeated in the song
Dancing with repetition, in the mayday of restoring heaven
How about I tell you that I couldn't talk to my doctor?
'Cause **** was the disease
How about I tell you, that my house smells, wishing it could make love to stylish artists and teddy bears with adorable aromas, fragrances of time and my mother can't read me, I just read her I write about the battered suitcases wanna travel the swirling minds of childish about desultory blues on the Ray Charles blues in
Playing in the back of a phonograph, in the corsets and flowery eyes that spell danger if I pluck a star from their supernatural darkness in hand-churned ice cream sitting on a desolate understanding of the homes of the lost souls, and I talk of the ceramic ashcans that process the changed minds
That had understood the changes, in the wind wondering what hit them or in videos of gapes of bad mouth in stammering broken lips
Drama is the art of success, and thunderous claps and the noise wants me to cut my life into half measures, and half hollow men
Some of them now kids, we are the studied men with the ignorant looks searching for the light
Understanding that a child can accept the light, the real tragedy strikes when we realize that an adult is scared of us
Sovereign in slavery, talk of the broken lip in white pallor that cries tears of emotional tears of cottages that sail in Morocco in Tangiers
On the ***** streets of hunts, and jousting verbal catatonic piano brilliant hurt, balancing on the fire
That I can't see, and the fall feels cold as hell, and the terrapin stays in the recesses of the doves flying above them
Falling into the side of the dark moon, and the colored literature in the stammering men was a white, well that's how we had the grapevine in this haven
Lend it's heralding living, in the clothes exchanged for jazz, and talking about jazz like it is, for the black men forgiveness
White men are afraid of black men because of expression. And black men are afraid of white men because of the lack of oppression, or the means to tell it like it is with their white lies and white fears of the black man sitting on a bench with his hand in ice creams, it's freezing outside...

White men fear black men because of depression, dedicated to cause and effect
Ghostless towns of the crossbones soulless towns, and following the logic that makes common sense, to avoid the ghosts of their past in the ideas that need to be kept in the past
Maybe true love waits, but, it's not my barking neighborhood
And I hate women with attitudes, and dogs that don't latch the reciprocated greed in a bit of chalk and white flame, green platitude, because happiness in intelligent people is the rarest thing
Where's her mom?
She's crying?
Where's her mother in the neighborhood suburbia?
Cashing in, and cashing out without her looks of financial fickle frenzy going into the cries of the howling crummy apartment, doesn't tell when the broken tears stop before they are complete
******* single torn child, an ultimatum for no limitations if your whiplashes the dashed chair, in the undulating tumescence of buildings in howling midnight in the secret garden
Sunflower you look toward the time, identikit caress these battered feelings in that we all know that ought to be found in the hearts that have lost them glow
We are lost in your glow monarchical, we are writing writhing souls looking for offensive erosion
And defensive simplicity in oil and water
In oil lamps burning midnight lamps inscribed in speakeasies, crowded in a quickie
Affixed I'm free to taste the reality of the hydrogen bomb, the best defense is the strongest offense
Aug 2019 · 271
Selling War
Aditya Roy Aug 2019
Our dreams alive, in three songs
You looking to get ******, in the arms of what's going on
Touch about the reality, of the great good of the hearts of the nosegay I took a nosedive, or the opened up fire of the circle's curlicue
Hells burning and sings, and burns the throat of supernatural sordid affairs of the singed dresses, lips quiver and nape the murmurs, closer to your party girl
Listening to the parallelogram lights of nadirs on the cream drop, on the trap, ******* stint rest are we
Sleeping with the nocturne-blonde, wheelchair on the cannibal dynamo of the change looking in product elitism, sold out before they knew they were buying war
You're a bit inside, further into my ferried heart on the wheels of fire of the crossroads of the good,
The hoods out, the special affair sounds like a girl, the number of the pocket
Of the ashcans on Wednesday, so smart about your Hakagaw bows, open doors to my cellar in speakeasies and tensions
On the phone calls, in the terse rhyme sin, the sails determination of confessing our love, in the strong live in the heart of years that do not have any limitation and have no learned lessons,
See tomorrow's is the night that's alive, it's the midsummer's daydream and the midnight cauterized midriff
How do we sell it, and the trench warfare in the solidarity of the streams of dresses in steaming stowaway, maybe we good we have mister magic selling the war in a handful of stardust
Shadow rises in that pass as years go by
Shadow is a pejorative term for copies of running on hurt looks in open books of minds, we have our own wars in piled plasticine in methanol, hydrogen prologue of the helium
Time throws us into the year in the complete word that completes me, and I'm a bit nicer
I'm so lost, I'm a bit nicer
Deep sarcasm in the classroom
The winners have become bad, and no one cares about the losers
What does it mean? I'm not telling you my stories
Aug 2019 · 71
Hoben Pon Dai NI
Aditya Roy Aug 2019
Talk in my sleep
Pictures on my window
Laying out on my diary, Hoben pon dai ni
Aug 2019 · 67
Broken places with traces
Aditya Roy Aug 2019
Having no imitation is no limitations, having no limitation as limitation
Where I'm sappy, saplings are in the process of creating and are applying themselves
A future in the natural sun moon and stars, blind and gay meteorite in the emotional content
Do not go gently into the good night, the blindness of the substance
Fresh out of luck, we are looking for a new order

Ran door after door, indoor substances, and randy nature
Looking for the freshness in the terms of endearment, searching
For something, in this life that knows no limits
If I were a writer, an analyst of humongous proportions
**** sun, and washed up lone stars in the cloudless climes
What's does it mean? It's just music to my ears

Midnight, she walks in beauty of starry skies
And we talk passions, in the cove in the water by the bench, the ceiling talks to us, in themes and motivating motif, Berkeley bars with French-Canadian on their walls, on the road with John Locke talk about liberalism in market economies

Capitalist summer, capitalist winter, we are still working for the sisters next to our daughters, asking if we change it like is or make out the answers out to falling bombs, leave in silence or do not talk about Hakagawa bows
The thin shade of watered bushes in the iridescent stars of being and she said we should go to the Phoenician Lands look for dull weather, I'm too old for this greedy flame
Boy sobs! In the starry dynamo! In the stairways, last cries on the road radio speaking of Adonis

In the gold rush, we already messed up the economy looking for Denver soul the Charles River, in talk of dreaming up Arkansas, lost in Boston's breathless winter, Adonis!

The ideas keep coming out, and it's not your fault that you cannot create market capitalism with a proper free market, talk of the death of classical economics in talk of neon streetlights of ***** streets looking for an angry fix
Can you kiss me! Or do I shut up? It's clean, it's a job that I need to specify and falls into the spectral silence
Oh silent ones, in the Denver state of gardens and secret savage Adonis lurking germinating death, and dying by the sword colder than inner Denver
Shoot me you coward, I know you are here to **** me! John!
Please ******, meditate on me in this burnt Norton, talk of zeal and kosher door knocks, dreaming up the President's men, and the baptist Jesus, stake your claim, Eli sabachtani Eli Eli on my starry soul, oh God of the intelligent editors, I had chosen to have a brilliant luncheon of truncheon things, Sativa and indica learned to be thy words

Let's see your Oedipus complex, or Electra in your sclera etherized patiently waiting
Patience is a virtue, and vice and virtue have no edifices in the happiness, ticking dead clocks of Ernest Hemingway
Open mind, first open soul to the possibility we will never understand that years go by, and eternity grows like the love in the sunflower sutra of his karma cosmic debris in asteroid blue dreaming up the affable epiphanies of tortured broken souls
Broken places with the traces of the damage, starry skies
Aug 2019 · 144
Love Untoward
Aditya Roy Aug 2019
Sending the love forward
Paying it back, in the
The way the socialism asked for a corporal
She loved him with a love untoward, that came from America
You can either hurt yourself or burn yourself, find fault with it
But, you will always learn from it, in the bebop that doesn't stop the motion of food and clothes in songs about buildings
Boy's with sobbing looks held by kiosks sending the semaphoring forward, with hope in we weren't going pop our madness during our cherry red wine sedation, holding up ******* and
A flag
Aditya Roy Aug 2019
I'm howling under the little tree
Becoming quiet, becoming a pole
Lank, hankering on the ransacked goals stealing the sleep from, meaningful free prose with the simple words that stole my sleep, I want your hand
Don't you wanna dance in the dark
Butchering Sundance, in the kid of the friable apartment
Apartment 145-146, today's last cries on the radio on Central park songs
That's alright to turn the radio and explain the positively rhapsodic living sphinx riddle, be killed by it or understand it
Across midnight skies, and shirk the sins, and scream with the pursuit of desires in Tangiermen
Burning with Illmatic fire on the sunflower beads with sultry kisses on the nape of your neck
For happiness, I live in a time where we are quixotic
Blind with angel hippie looking for Alhambra, to ruin their with happiness, with mindful language burning in the circles of hell reigning with boundaries of paradoxical paradise lost
Some of us are a locked stocked barrel gun in machine tombs Barros creating sorrows, likeness to a warm run on Spain
An open book within without a son is like a train journey, it stays like a good friend in the Blake Light of burning Solaris
We were on the run on, Goldman Train running the errands like a kid waiting for the gold rush on the cast across acrobat, back and forth should I sat or should I go like the ultimate punk
Counting the stars just like you, easing ego in the poetry losing myself in strains of woes in a parceled nosegay which time clutched from Empyrean isles
Ginsberg meeting Walt Whitman in the supermarket sharing the list of cultured vegetables in Elysian isles, California in the catcher of eye fields
It's all coming together.
Because the wind is high, happiness is true, love is you, crossing the rivers of heralded fools, worshipping their ideals likewise men with intelligence. Looking for something, we are in a country that is intelligent and has tools too, in the works of a corporeal industrial sunflower touch madness. Pop the center of it all, the feed needs work, freed out. Growing with every wildflower that knows passion, and knows it for sure without needing windowpanes for sure. The eyes are the windows to your soul looking for anything, changing us with the way we fold up the days, and the nights cut throughout the last talks of Independence, and an abundant need of free people. Some of these are worlds apart from being on their knees, or even praying for a ***** beard. Lacking **** *****, and Adonis of the Ganges, sitting on the endless river looking for coroners. Anybody drowning in the coronation of a passion project. Talk about passion, we cannot.
"Power is the aphrodisiac"- Henry Kissinger said so as he triumphed with Theranos, oh yeah i need my illegal surrogacy from the spectral nation, right right, I need your books and ****** banks.
The children screaming under the stairways! Boys sobbing in armies! Old men weeping in the parks! Boy, you got the New Year's Day in your eyes, fire in the nameless streets understanding the oil and the water. Stretching out into the thin cow.
Aug 2019 · 60
Natural Act
Aditya Roy Aug 2019
The poets for the howling poets
Poems for everybody
Making his natural act
Aug 2019 · 722
Collegiate Thumb
Aditya Roy Aug 2019
Happy roses on the parade, he was waiting for the 2 years to arrive
The album cover love the lover's wilting love in on Jesus' daughter in a tree, lovely sails it had
They fell when the autumn had arrived, **** your darling buds
Pygmies digging holes in the soil in their hearts of toil, falling prudently
Like leaves, the red justice, gold *****, in a curlicue of extra circulars

Touch on the washed-up Gurudeva, fixing holes in the faucets, the sunshine shines on our bad news, save us the supernatural darkness
The superstition of the Siamese cat, and the weeping lady
The flow is getting better, make love could we ever escape dark days and escape the midnight shines like good fillers on hydrogen delight, stars in the stare looking for the assets to darkness
Moonchild roses remembering the supermarket in America, that changed them, those who were pleased with the peaches incarnate in the cries of the last radio of the gold heads, buses of the sunflower tin cans
That cried an Eli book of poems, show me in the radiant illuminating blue eyes

I am walrus, I can make these songs okay touch tough but it was right to be alright
Ending a letter to Lennon on the twelfth night, the wrong from my lenience
My liege, my childhood here hath Earth omnipotent in areolar sprayed aerosol cans, we long these round holes and surmise of free prose in the inner moon
Light up the sadness

Album cover acrid as the midnight spoon, feeling sentimental
Tumescent buildings, my cheer, without imagination
You don't deserve possessions, you shot down dead weight
Carry the shine, in the confines of a painless razor of lacrosse, Billy shears brushing your head
I'm shaving my head, with the crowd in an instantaneous hung jury in the situation in the dalliance with the forgotten underwear, ******* my collegiate thumb
I want to write my own stuff with natural ecstasy and alliance of the hung jury in the psychotherapy, and the ******* ministerial preacher, saying please please me

You said you were
Struggling with the bugs, Pam
In your head, and hung bedbugs in your childish core, of faith as a person who loves the sibilant sounds
When I laugh as my head comes out of the plastic nation
Freed and staring into the distance, Ono here in the ballad hearin' sound laughter

Lead your path
To thine light ad thine veritas
There is thy will in every bright thought in
We thought up a bed, filled hat across the new man

We are not scared among the ranged beats, were dreaming style
Derailed from the tabula rasa, and waterfalls and lose our happiness in the morning
And search for the under in our childish souls

Hanging out in rainbows in cyclones  swirling like idiot winds
And they call me dumb, a bad person in studied simplicity
Simplicity is the kind of loving, giving the kindness of taking it gently
Failure is simply the opportunity to begin again, this time more searchingly

Already finding the end of life's meaning in the puddles of love
Find yourself in mother nature, and you can apply yourself, my friend my water, my shapeshifting friend and left the flower
And leave someone's shadow as we grow fond of the light, we start wondering if the starry skies in patched blackberries
"Knowledge speaks, but wisdom listens."- Jimi Hendrix
Aug 2019 · 147
Lost Roses
Aditya Roy Aug 2019
I feel like I'm using you
Using roses for the rest
Adapting to the amok
Beautiful is the sea in stormy rain
Don't call my name, don't break my poem
Into one, finding devils on the crossroads too
Riders on the twelfth note of the funeral rite
Femme fatale fetching pale looks, blue eyes read the red headlines
Finding they hath get older than angels of desperados, despair shadows rising on the mojo, searching looks in red herrings
Rest In Peace- herrings
Aug 2019 · 242
A poem is made by poets
Aditya Roy Aug 2019
Looking into the *** of literature
Eratosthenes, and getting some midnight wrong
Broken poems, killjoy, I'm in a mellow dram with my bearhugs
In the chugging lurid frescoes of the mind of a gregarious soul with lion's eyes and a wolf's soul, the warmth lit the Savannah
Seems like cold ice, thawed in the nasty weather, left with positivity
Emerson's rude bridge, on the point, on the road, *** or a livid ultimate cunning guy being the ******, kicking the dirt with the incomplete poetic lines, where souls find lost dreams on the end of passion steps, lost Conrad
Do they murmur as a poem which is one, unbeing and being
The poem reminds of a haiku
She once told you
Tea was taken black
Sweet and right, is white on the top
A soul in the heart of darkness find an accident in the heart of weakness of others, my lungs are paper trite on the road around this town
Bless the soul, it knows peace after we're long gone on the dry dirt, kicking up the darkness in dreaming of you
Fear in a handful of stardust in an ashen raging madman
If you could those poets in that lost poem

If you could read between the lines and keep the metaphors alive
Dying and slipping, sliding away away
Concordant lives of the passion of the Christmas, he lives with his Hagrid-like father
Strolling the empty nights, with the Christ in the amazing hodger,  roger in the soul love, and they share the same books
That's why they share different characters, and lines
Aug 2019 · 78
Van Hohenheim
Aditya Roy Aug 2019
Farewell to Love, and in a letter of an Eden garden
A sad soul killed quicker than a germ
That cremated ashes in an ashcan of woes
Aston martin driving across a hall, and burning this earth with it
Smiling weren't we when we realized that Russian modernist, as it murmurs to us
A person blind to the light, and selling Dylan Thomas
The flaming and blazing letter of Nobel
My heart is squeezed, because of the ****** of my ashcan
They stole my ashes, my motherless Russians find themselves in communist pamphlets
Selling the red letter, in a thought underground I respect them
Wrapped around the cut finger, cuffed with my bitter laments burning with sealed wax sent to Brezhnev committees
The lion is never fickle, so it doesn't feed itself doth pride
Aug 2019 · 795
Californications
Aditya Roy Aug 2019
Sitting on the bench, hontoni arigato and hakagawa bows
Brushing my hair, thankful for a different language
Touching my knees, thank you errantly erroneously
Sit and gardens stare
Wildflowers in two words
Twos often wonder what was the word
Parallelogram vans wish they could be sentences
Pass me with the deans
Two summers bravery Illmatic plays
Slavery washed on me and flowed words with wabi-sabi
Ignorantly searching for simplicity, and intercepting
Lugging learned that he was sober and insightful
Things change inciting when he says I love you, but, I lost Arizona, leaving with LA pallbearers speaking in hymns for the lost weekend
When the two words, change to three words
And the different hangovers for different times
For the lively souls, rap still pays a visit to the nation that held millions, front and back
There lies a line of shining boundaries on the war that fire
Moving like a lava lamp
Back again, frontal lobe pulsates those ups and downs
Delightful lively and where did I lose my shine, and the fire of eyes flickers with the midnight spoon of flickering night streets
Uh soon, **** is a disease masking the ability to change
Politics is where greed wears the mask of morality
But, **** man the less I know them better, right
in the circus of an ersatz clown, as the frugal fire of the murders of the shining and the power of music, burning your conviction in my heart
Dying with the fires of hell, anecdotes of simple fools who can understand simple things
Fools are the wise men when they learn to sharpen their knives
Leave themselves in the sharp mouth of gorillas in the lava iridescent friends, grins writing your heart, your light, your life like a monolith
I miss your thoughts and knowing, and adding what's my own
What can I add to New York state of Mind, does the midnight strike the good night, and ask it to be gentle
As morning cup of tea of burning brilliance of dull months of April under the arid love, that's a moral desert I cannot stop, I'm on the road of life, the battered suitcases catch the candor of deserted times under the train, had it told me you'd to leave the intrigue of the speakeasies, with your French look and glib iridescence of shyness, Canadian stealing cars under the mobsters that leap out
Falling in love and breaking bad would start chasing you
Understanding good and evil, I've been the prisoner of the holy child
Antediluvian time and all that crap, mice among men we crawl the streets in the friend that remembers on the outside
Familial uproar bringing up the baby under the ****** footprints, under drama and cine lights
Life needs a little soul, and a little love to grow imaginative
These years go by, and the pensive life doesn't find solace in good company on the streets belonging to the streetlights, and angry streets with desolate angels

Desolation angels looking for their place in the sun
Fortifying a lot of observation, and marching band with their meters
Challenging themselves, music and jazz, we talk about inconsistency of the eon
Poems, of thee Buddhahood looking for a friend, in the supernatural darkness
Sagacious beams from the life dedicated to accepting the life of cause and effect where I had only but silence
My faction of the Eastern Bloc, we are looking in all directions and running in de jure circles
Facts of scientific, joking in your book and hysterical and naked surly curs on the fruit covered by the dust, I need to embellish these claps
In the fire times, of the watered Cupid in the Venus allegorical girl
Beezlebub lost his mind paraphrasing in Hell, arrived in Lucifer on the cross steeple
In the land of milk and honey, in the passion of the church
I'm laughing at my typing, and the technology has changed and so have the women
I'm the living embodiment of a ceiling now, spinning like an embryo or test tube vestibule
How am I gonna survive on the ability to live like someone has committed suicide for me tonight as it grows hoarse
Stand the generous suicide, it was painless
You know o'er head her still face has madcap laughter at her soundful something, I don't know after I climb the ladder and yell this is the answering bell to doors of Heaven and Hell's doormat, I am a plenary one
Virile yelling on the catatonic piano, we are imagining peace and lost like a dreamer, just like the flower that grows like the uncle in Albert, we just lost our only photographer from the ashram
Lost weekend- May Pang
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