The role of an artist is not to look away
I see people and their nature change, but, they're all the same
Man is a genius when he is dreaming of shelter from the rain
Some of these men have ambition, as well as intelligence
That gives them wings, and I cannot afford to hate anyone
As long they don't avert their eyes in silent judgment
We are what we do, then, by that logic excellence is something of a habit
But, what we wetlanders must do, is never hide the inner moonlight
Because that's where madness pops in blue limelight of ****** footprints
Snowy mountains and black white reels of cinematography pile up into digital from analogical death
Rebirth in the Phoenician death of epistemological numinous ashes
Spirited away by the talent of many, and ambition of too few

You and I must go
The time can stay
Blossoming like a wildflower, in the month of aged wine and May
Eternity in an hour, if you may
Treading a path of tears, the midterm naysayer appears in the scintillating imago
The condition of the human, ich mir kind spirit closes on the broken girl
People don't play with knives, they toy around the possibilities of ******
Toys of the occult and ocular visionary, a legionary in the reprise
My soul has lost its appetite, but, has a pang of hunger in someone's demise

Every secret admirer
Every conquest is written
Is written avidly in your soul, and highly doubtful

Cigarettes and alcohol
Have become the simple pleasures
Of a time of complications
A lady hawk that flies like butterflies
Keeps some food in your sock
Eat some bread and spread the joy
Interest yourself in the possibilities
Think about the probabilities
Intentions can be validated in gestures
But, there is no reprieve from the guilt
These are guilty pleasures, that started as simply regret
These are simple pleasures, that are beguiling and freeing
The innocence of children in a park of moving swings and birds

The rain came down, and washed my cigarettes and stole my inaugurated abode
Hatcheting and brushing the hedges of my meadows
I'm in the lord's spirit

Finding silence in an unending peaceful voice
Desire and volition
Saltation is just a leap of faith for the miserable

Pretention is just the walk of noblemen with promiscuous women
Cigarettes, alcohol and steaks, I'm sure my appetite is tended
My hunger, ravenous, is just an obvious statement

I cannot talk through necessitous circumstance
Be a part of avian species part of the congregation
Derelict, stolid plights of valetudinarian do not amuse you, they incite your fear of ambition

Intelligence without ambition is a bird without wings, cut them for size

You know I'll love
With an impassioned love
And a childlike innocence
Now, rest my child while my passions follow adult me

We wander in the sea
All, lest we speak by meandering the will of the desperate man
And gladly he wolde lerne, gladly he will teche
April is a dull month, breeding lilacs of the refracted land

Le desespere were the dismembered, germinating roots in the washing away of memory or broken places
Let us go, you and I
To the sunlit skies wearing the secret of prima facie
Etherized on the table, for Ezra Pound's moniker

"Es tut mir leid"
Were novels and symbols into the sun with a woolen sweater and a note
"Butch and Sundance Kid"
I see your shadow walk into the rising sun, across the window, and that's what you did!


Thelma and Louise, hand in hand
Vandalism among vandals, wasting away in the wastelands
Peace germinates, as they in the sundry embryo of the now
I show you fear in a handful of the dust, in Avaris

I was hardly thinking when I entered the acropolis
The windy roads talked of carefree days, I was to last
At last, my chance came in the talk of strangers in cinema pans and wave cuts
Interfaced, by the aversion to cloudy vision, I adjusted my glasses
Walking among others, could not be more perusing and anticipating
The dissipating dreariness was really smothering my look for a change
Yesteryears shifted by my tainted feeling of flighting writes, and unopened letters
The mailman checks my mail in the mailbox and the ordinariness of things
Committing to the vapid and the milk and closeted wine, in the shepherd's column
My hands were painted with writer's ink, the thoughts just kept flowing
In the rainmaker writer, it was a syllable of doubt and dough, that I was looking at a compensation or stay
The company wasn't hard to come by, the room was charged quarters
In the middle, there was a trapdoor and I felt drawn and quartered
Garrulous crowds talked of Garibaldi, Aristotle, and praise was the talk of the century
Mephistopheles has become somewhat of an errant symbol of a syllogism with your sins
One leads to the other, and follows the posterior, laying logos for following the argument
The argument is not something that writes in my journal, but, it crossed my mind, anyway.


Voracious readers, devoted people, and a couple of friends made my stay, a welcoming farm
Likewise, life's not picket-fences, gambling, drunkenness and staying alive
It's living life to it's fullest and appreciating each moment like it's your last class in life
At some point, philosophy can be unspeakably lame
Well, your ambitions are lame too, and women need to trample over
Just tramping a few, could get you shiny shoes in this American dream
We have divorced ourselves from the idea of nationalism, and I'm sure we make good citizens
I am not even sure why entered the acropolis, as it does not accept speakers like the colosseum
Crossing paths and circling winds were once where crossed swords in history
No, I'm in Rome and looking at the short nightcaps and scenic speakeasy, my mind is wasted on women
But, books and bookers and fantastic factotums who service my every need
Once, they used to shine my car, as I walked among Hollywood stars
Now, I live with my estranged wife and intermittent wives, who are feral and feline
I might even call some of the lithe, but, you're on my mind
Smelling the paint off some of them reminds me of your person laconic and pale
Some of these girls were rather beautiful, I must say, but, the heart was lost with you
Nursing your every need and caring for you, was the biggest burden
That I learned to cherish, and the love was unreal
It was fading like the wind catching me in those eyes
The first sight was love, and now I see you every day as a routine
In the hospice, hoping cancer doesn't spread in the acropolis
Polished ceilings and hovering over us are towering structures, and love is no object
Love is an ordeal, and it takes hard work and effort
These days in this short day in the life of the caring girl, the buildings, and the houses
Living in this city remains all dead, but, empty
Dying in this city remains all dead, but, dying seems more real with
As all this fame, is make-believe
This acropolis is mortal
You are immortal, busy leaving a good feeling
Which is something I can believe in, even through existential crises

Despicable future lies ergo, ahead here we trade to go
Pretending receptacle, disk-like topsy-turvy and a memoir
The years of strenuous struggle and summer's past
Antithetical to the present, zenith is here we endeth
Hermaphrodite, are you a dove in a flock
Of seagulls, that entices the erudition of like minds
Of yells and drama that show promise of an actionable decision
Derisive, and here's where we toll and we ring like bells
To the signs of perturbation, and anticipation is latent
Derogatory, and denunciated is dystopian life in this derivative
Of residence, maybe, we might mold ourselves into movers and the touched
The items that are among a collection are well-cared and nurtured for
Trembling fear is your colonel who is braving those storms and keeping rank
Somnabulance, serried, surfacing terms of senile agreement met
Setee and servile and set by the beset sentencing of someone on trial
Like I came into the room knowing the poor vernacular of my dreams
The error in my ways was courted by other folks
Floored and my pleas, were met obligating eyes

We looked at the monsoon showers
The sight was good enough to read the handprints
On the glass pane and the prayer for the storm subside
Grew stronger and the  sordid storms that scared caitiffs
Seemed very welcoming, it was the perfect excuse to leave
But, it wasn't about me, I was making light of my emotions

We looked at the stars
And that was the day I remembered
Everything changed, in one stroll and heartbeat
Each skipped step in step under the windy roads of cloudless nights

Mendaciousness amiss, my teenage
Fillibuster, towards my frescoed haired fray

Etude and capricious aria fawning in veritable aversion
Casting aspersions, with much alacrity

Surreptitiously digresses whilst crescendoing sucre sedulousness
Aspirations forced with petulance and force Carpe Omnia, rather jejune

Creedence clearwater crepuscular Crimean wars, perfunctory indeed
Katydids antediluvian lintels limit ospreys that fly across desires of frost

Dry dreary doth dubious dolorous dunes do much, take me too
Destined to dream beyond dimly lit dimes that count as time
Desired ecosystem

This is my life
It can be fulfilled by three words
A couple of poems and writing for you
But, in God's writing and in the saints of this marching past

Days and dates have meant nothing to religious
Legends are pretty keen, it works out
But, all you make them out to be uncanny
Ought to be simple really, you are swift and softer
A presence of you may be adrift as I saw you roll in the darkness
Of the dance of seagulls, nightgown flashing like streetlamps
Streetlights can come to life, turpitude can grow softer
The dearth wailing and crimson deep wounds can crawl through
Fragments of time, and someplace elsewhere in this broken place
The light turns a little darker in the tunnel, cars coming up slowly
The tension of your calves driving and accelerating
Through century city and the steerings broken and street's the same
The limelight and broken and sights of the dancing birds might fly
As crazy like this little thing called forbidden love, tired and ordered
Keep the Hades at the bay of the hellish life we lead that reads like quaint quiet
The Caspian basin salty as the crisps of conversation, sludge dredge

Drudge and adjudicate this stream of solitude and the din ringing soundly the dimly lit freedom
In the candles of the wind, the dark meetings in the German massacre, hallowed by the talk of change
Probably, Beethoven can't hear the cries and feel the Holocaust victims and survivor hearts
Hearts of ***** used to graves dug up, burnt before the loss of civilization
The reality of this can be seen by the posterior, capricious, but, rather germane to our pain
There's nothing called sadness if you're numbed by pain
Oh! What a depressive state of mind that we cannot criminally be accused

The despicable demeanor of the inured can be seen in the unadulterated violence
Breaths are faltering at the sound of some guns, icy hands
Blitzkrieg Bop, as the bombs drop
The stolen conquest of the concentrated masses, eying at agendas
The propaganda of the influential ministers, the less I know the better
Creatures of the night, are you could be held mind tight
Like the night terrors, that grab my strangulated body
The fears won't leave the light, in the darkness of my deja vu
I feel I've been here before
I say that to you

To sure, that you can daydream and go high n' dry
Seeking inspiration from the sinister meaning of the poetic dahlias
Black, are they? Come up in the dilapidated beatnik motel
Ride about in heartbreak hotel
Too bad, this ****** sold out their tickets, to your show
Guess it's time to mend ways and think about friendly things
Butterflies ringing in the belly, that I've hatched upon, already
Guess, you're trying to lose some ways to say "you love me."

my howling wind
my serious face
my discerning grin
my great distress
my reams of crass literature
All pile up into my life

Love is meant for me and you
Time won't wait for you
Tha's what I keep in my heart

Verse A
Read the poem, begin reasonably
You and me and my dog
Too many people to tie together
A long lost feeling keeps them tied
For poetry notes in the turgidity of dying dogs and crying children in rushin' in tatters, monochrome pants, and tiny spits
Of fire coming on tattle giant of le plus femme, forlorn furrowed eyebrows loop deliciously
Children need dealing, metro streets in this dystopic inventive seas

Living in the metropolis of tumescence of vast objectivity
Rabbles and roads and rolling ditches, some damsel being diminutive
Rambunctious raucous youths of roaring tigers in rearing farms
Raging lions in the rhapsody of bellicose bullish belligerence like diction
A corporeal of positively rhapsodic feeling ****** with George and gorges, protean germinus
The syllabi of syllogisms and schisms and oysters smitten truth and hidden haikus
Forsakes scientific fact and *****-shriveling act perniciously for thespian spring fixes
Invectives, ice, and censuring fornicate in an intermittent visceral vision of eternal springs
Of attainable wisdom willfully stirs the ***
Inferrable this clear existence in this penetrable mind can be called pleasant and puerile
Unperturbed and undulating do not work together unless zaftig and scrumptious like scones on summer sign
About your corsets strangulating and stifling your instincts' seceding their senses to the serene providence
Adumbrating the vacillating mind of a God-like might
Stagnancy stoking storied sullen somnambulant sadistically serried, Zeus caring and giving
Dreaming is a pain, dreaming is a chain
But, not in a maiden's caregiving nature
It isn't rudimentary to eat at each letter of this basal dictionary, as words expand in the context
Like the word is word, so spread it and mean it
Just like your legs, just to make sure that the words don't hurt

Inside the box of dreams contingent to divergent nightmares
In the confines of a large painting and solitude and suns
You smell the beauty of her soluble features in the eyes as one
Does it do to have a surplus of truth
The ego of driving id letting your inner self spasm without word's worth and worthiness
Relate to someone, whose heights you must torch and focus on oh so much
Buffering winds and engulfing flames, and paint of wolf and werewolves
The moist stench of inventiveness and red veritas of the current year, in the current art of the raw and cooked
Often, thousands of years could be prepared, before you learn a decade of failure, brewing strangely
Decadence doesn't exist in this defined structure wither the body withers in song and dance
Sundry and adamantine guillotines do sew her flesh in hatchets, axes, and bows
Arches and gallantry of cavalry in a dither and dearth dense censuring, of diseased purgatory
Looking at yourself beyond the riches, and rags to ditches.

When you fall asleep you leave
Me in bed like a ******

But, you waking up always drags out that champion
Hey, your thoughts might like the breeze
But, trust my gut?
If you read me you might never leave me
I have my head about, in this land of dreams
Why do you have to make it here?
When, do you have to make it here?
What, is a question of substance, but, not now
Just let your passions follow you cinderella

First of all, I'm interested in the cold
And a state in which you're living couldn't be washed away
Like a hopeless dream, that some of us stare in hopeless exuding
Of doing what can die and that, dies because of seeking ease as it lives
Truantly yours, a trunk full of things symbolizing complicated things in a box full of simple items
Whimsical farms o' yonder, serried
Happen, a dream they happen
Rye and risen' with the clement weather
Go ahead, miss your flight
To go breezin' in some lost serene time
When you'd really smother yourself in need
If you're deeper individualism allows that breeding, just by the essential summation of communication, by all means, go ahead and seek

Watashi wa mada kore ni ikimasu kaishi jikan
Chigai o umu hōhō watashitachi wa anata ni aete ureshīdesu.
Nakete wakata hajime wareta sono kono miru sumai ni
Watashi wa tsumetai yume o mite mimashou
I'm going to this still
Opening time
How to make a difference
We are happy to meet you.

The alma mater in the rubble stone choir
Palma's inert presence snores in these buildings, present
This I ask you if you have made haste with tis' Teide and fallowed
With the land of women and reams and always arousing
Or looking for them, in the indignation and distinction of divulging per
So, you're tied between antibiotics and vancomycin and ******

He was the storm
I was calm
Bundling in the blizzard
Sailing through the breeze
I was shut up in a cluster
Clammy hands and the sandy girl called hope
Trenchant, some may say if you profess your love
I was calm

You're hovering
And you think poetry sets you
It is just a car that drives by you like really quick
You're left with your hands in your pocket and watching
Chasing away the smoke and you might remember your progress
Thoughts are hinging on trees
Like the leaves that spar with the breeze oh so quick
You're left with your hands in your pocket and watching
Changing with the times and you might get caught up with your
The wind which everyone has ignored, yes, your destiny
The words that leave this exchange, are your own ideas
Winding clocks close to that effect of time
Trembling fears and the loathing can catch up pretty fast
Like someone chasing the sunny skies, and dandelions are a mirror
Livening, and the frosty snowflakes of your memories melt
With the pouring sunshine, make you feel like your soul isn't ice
But, there is a fire in some of us that, that makes me believe that there are many like us
Out there
Probably
Here where I live, maybe, I might take my chances, catch you soon my friends

I getting for the world, ready of the droll
The time-traveling honors never flowed

The feet on your flannel and the drink's in a smiling cup
Of seminal poetry, and the frisky stations that keep your cuckoo rockin'

In my present state of mind in the frame of the dogma
The dogs of the militants and edicts of the enemy
Listing your killings like the million operations
Like a speck of dust in the billions

The thousands waste and die and roll in the deep
Making my feet crawl in underwood for the dance
In the floor of the stop and the eighteen run-outs
And drive-ins could n't the flops and shows that sheet curled

Of the bar that was dry, saying this will be the day that I bite
Look if this ***** won't feel
Like the records on the old store shelf, reading these books is like music

The feelings so unusual, and the years are so beautiful
Will you get older with the seams on your face which smile when
Being at the broken edges seems right, I just about cut enough about

How cute you look when you are mine, in this plasticine face
Pinch of dust and light as leaves and the weather
Light as a feather, the discord, and the beat goes on
On a dethrones, the kings of their station of kings so cross

Turning around a creamy ******, coming *******
With a hot fever and this unusual day will be when I die
Living beyond my dignity, and the price and the rights I print
According to my name, to fund it in vain and funnel it out
Of luck and stunted growth and the shortness has got me in the breath

Some of you ***** ******* writing how much you love love
The idea of losing someone close to your dreamworld is like cotton
Buds flying across the star-spangled banner or the loveless
You may think you love her
But, you can never be sure if it is love
Until you are willing to **** about and have the path of glory in the sight
If you wish the truth come to you, you need to have the inclination
So that when it ******* hits you, you are prepared
Do not cry, because tears are better in the rain
When writing in agonizing alliteration about the teary tumult of racing rain
Does it come close to your expectations of being famous, or would you *******
From the responsibilities meant for you, one night stands would ****
You for life without the garden and patio to sustain your *****-less nights
So, what's up morning sleepyhead, the story rises like soulful vibes?
With the ashes of coffee-like memories, you could journalize
Realize, the ashes were just the flame to rub you the wrong way
****, it might even be make-believe if you have your open shame
In love, *** and pain there is only two ways, and it's always leaving
And being with someone, without your rags to riches story, is impossible
Have a golden heart with the only motivation for tomorrow's set
Let today's act finish with the ovation of the many against you
In your dreams, they might be ******* you and the anger doesn't
******* up, like watching the sunset without your permission
The line cuts and you are all alone with an idea of you
Washed on the footprints of the sandy desolate beach, at home

The recipe of the free educating disaster
My city light experience
Was traumatizing as well as moody

Circadian and clicking, the time comes alive
Time dies in thine endless river, but, where I have coexisted
In this wine of learned place sand and somnambulant sorrows and radiant summers
The sparrow in the rain among the Rastafarian posse
Left the one in the grass in the spring
Without a parent of the grass in the nest
Hopeless soul of the grass in the resonance
One with the universe and pressing grass in the rest
Confused by opulence and riches and pass in the fall's leaf and grass
Researcher of the alchemy and the scion of the grasshopper wings and the lessons learned
Grasshopper on the grass preys on the night and some pestering winds
Reconnaissance the reeds and wattles of the fuliginous underwaters

I was a moon burnt
In a shadow of the burning ember
Of the elliptical sun, for the possibilities
Of being blind in a sunburnt bleach
*** in the ground of germinating roots
Unable to recognize the insane thing
I had slipped my finger underneath
Inside it was a strange memento, of something I was remembered
Darker and the process of debris flowing the Asteroid
From here to Mars, and her hair was flowing with reeking riffs
Midriffs coming down on the sudden release
Of tension, I wasn't antediluvian of my primal pristine dream
The position was assumed and so the thrill of the chase
The theoretical nature of my disposition was just to tell you about
How heat and cold work?
Like lukewarm concepts could be brighter if they didn't add color
Like infrared vision, lemme understate how obscene our red lust
Was or was it blue, like punched up rag in some motel town
Making me a fighter rather than a lover insane with drunkenness
Or the streetlights light in a symbolic union like resourcefulness
How changed my mind Solar Eclipse, I noticed the beauty
Of her hidden eyes from the sun, maybe I wouldn't think twice
Between those thuds and thoughts where relentless bone-cracking makes my night
When the night is right, we could be your magnets and magnanimous friend in a chick called Destiny

Thence, to rise and to shine
Shining Shoes like the boy who dreams to shine guitars
With a box full of things, that I don't even know
What they were meant for, a semblance of freedom
Or some kind of splendid intertwining of these circumstances
My preceding circumstances could be less like my inhibitions
This is the house I always come back among old and missing things
Like a sold case for lost typewriter
These screenplays are written on borrowed time

I come in thy lassos of the sky
Really, is time an object and my preferences are lying about
I am pensive near the fire that I so desire
The attention I aspire for, and the friends I'm grateful for
I gratuitously ingratiating my missing pleasures
The road was taken, and some freed were less
Lost by the surrounding *******, I made haste
Landing upon a metaphorical desert
I was forced to look at ways to leave this road for dated people
Who reminded what it felt like to in the fast life
Theoretically and tersely, I make debate about things I understand
I have hopes and dreams
Being humble is one of them, but, I cannot think of any reasons
To be arrogant, but, you bring out the best in me
And make haste leaving me in my hate and agonizing feeling
I preeminent and imminently expectant of the recesses of sextants tanks that thing in this ziggy stardust
You were once a roll-roll star, you lived by your words
But, they reminded of how you never thought you were an artist
Until someone proves you wrong about your ideas
And exchanges them for incessant doubt
Like a man at sea looking at broad horizon
These are parallel perceptions of how you are brought about
In your life
And my life
You might be slovenly, and that makes you the title
Stolen by some man at sea
Instead, your heart was stolen by the man with the telescope
On a midnight cruise from a distant lighthouse
That signals through the cloudless climes and surrenders ships
Forbidden, like a sea of endless *****

In this institution, I was in a day of the criminal
Psychology class of some nun
I was going to go all way to salvation subliminal
But, I couldn't hold back inspiring senses
Jews were sure, I was holing the slaves.

Sleeps like money
Wakes up looking like a million bucks
Dreams about possessions, leaving them in the stream of rapidity
Consciousness anno domini, the year of Lord
Subconsciousness, in the past before the clergy
With these desires, came conquest of your dreams.

The universal energy
That keeps me together with you
Is the same reason why stars seem huddled up in the night sky
Even though we are of different sizes, and quite far apart
Sigh

The set in the stuff of the moribund
The sand of the rise of the tides
These memories come out in strange shapes
Offering mirages in the vivid sun
Looks like your idea of the image is all that stays
It's derived from the dealing of thirst for different shapes
And question mark only comes when you reach a full stop to your journey
Did you die tentatively, or were you always desolate and alone?
Draped in your own shadows, billowing?
That's the curtain call.

If you keep thinking over the same drugs
I'm afraid
We're have reduced your dosage
An electric shock in the next 2 hours
A buzz should keep you gliding for two minutes
Without the knowledge of how the clock ticks after 12, past midnight
While inmates are sleeping, peacefully, I'm sure you're you are wandering about at 2 in the morning
I am certain you are wandering, and precociously searching for the right escape as your search ends in velleity
Since you already know the answer
To leaving this institution without reprieve and any spontaneous knowledge
So, don't do drugs or they will **** you first.

The steel lights were somewhat like a diner's candle
Half lit
Warmed by the black and bliss
The blue stamps rang on the fluorescent dandelion
The blue of the moon didn't hide any of its flame and flight
Half knit
Teeming with swarms of armed forces looking for Vietnam, belligerently
The sultry forests, are we even burning trees?
What is going on?

Did you write the end of
The story
I am pretty sure, it won't ******* write itself

Do you still love me?
Are you still thinking about me?
Like the rainy walk that never skips your mind?
When the water seeps into your bones
Does the old age remind of the tones of the adult you became
The morning of the placid teenagers seems quite reckless
They look at your emotions only offering their confusion
The destitute label goes away when you're cleansed by the silver rain
It is unfortunate, that I do not see you in the rain
Any more and the walk is just a recess in this receding rain

Love finding that I love talking to you
I am all over it
I suppose
A treasure trove, a confusing cornucopia
Ordinary life can be quite easy
Unless you're trying to better, for somebody else
It's very feeling that keeps you awake
When you should be asleep, with someone else
On your arm and ear to ear, the fan stirs the hairs lightly
Your arduous glances show some dizziness, maybe I'm just livid
But, I remember vividly that you were characteristical about ***
Quite a character, you were an affair, not a friendship
Not a rendering resident in my empty mind
Why goest in thy shiny car, without the single time in the night?

He asked if I wanted
A flower
I said, grow a pair of forget-me-nots

You think heaven's fire
If you left
The funeral pyre, in one piece of stone

There is a continuity
In this curated knowledge we have
Make the right conclusions
Live numbered days
Live long enough to make sense of the universe
The stars are what we strive for
Black holes or this definitive knowledge
Celestial order where there are both motions
And duality, where do we find the end of these processes
To the third stone from the Sun
Many of the phenomena that exist in this expanding astute universe
Will make your wildest imaginations seem tame

The boy with the soulless eyes
Never dies
Even if he tries
Finding fresh air
In a blue cambric
Made by nuns in their tunics
Is a fickle thing
You're the soul of the occult, they said giggling

God, you're neurotic
Your Jihad
Can't handle the stoic eroticism
Of blackened offals often bloodied, resonant with the old religion

The mason and the carpenter
Try fixing
The God-awful statue in the church

The guy does his part
In the bleeding lady
Sizes them in comeuppance

An atheist and believer
Both go to a bar
Come back home, and believe in God

The night and the year
The time and tears
The sudden nature and human nature
The fears of fine lines

Some of us are piqued, and some of us intrigued
The hidden exposition of this pain is wisdom gained
In my past, I'm still suffering once again
Because of my age

Ye shores in the evermore
I look to you to walk under moonlit
Times under the years of the sophomore

The clime and timeless skies
Make another rainbow
Maybe, glancing somewhere over the rainbow
Like a midnight spoon, high and near

Modernized
Inclined
Spontaneous
Sorry

The bells tolling and gallow stools
Carved by a crisp knife sharpened by a stone flint-shaped among the garden tools
The molded and weak rose like the solid and stolid coveting
The dolorous limelight seekers were sure about the fun settling
The call-in your wake is sure to make you disagree, subversively
Pretentious till it leads me into ruinous states, with each verse
Troubled and telling about the stoic salacious dread, of your *******
The sins and arresting rebels brought you minister and spirit
The apologetic and shrieking in their walls their apologies
Am I the only one, who thinks
They don't change their disposition
Time I'm tearing you up into fragments
My stories are getting caught up in their endings
Caught by the hook of standing on the ceiling, rear-ended
The knee-deep hell, mountain high harp, what the ****!
Reelin' and rockin' in heaven, indeed purgatory calls your bulls and porgies
Greed and corporeal blood and recipe for dreadful disaster, and luck you yammer about out-and-out too
It's in your flesh and bones, ****** vain too
Feels like time is slipping and sliding out of my oval face and hateful hands
The friends you seek to hold you when you're ready?
Blows, busy days, France in its hey-day had some passion rather saints who come marching in
Are you ready to read your death in the newspapers, when your stomach lurches like holes in the air
Or here from storytellers like a burnt legacy, in the papers that herald flying guns and leveraging politics
And hate, rising with the ashes, the education burning blue like a phoenix
Apogee, really, after so many a doubt and clusterfuck of redactions, I'm ready to learn about counted visage among the many faces on a business street
About my attraction to nature and fantastic reality, I'm jumping with joy
But, smaller than the cosmic bubble that keeps us from dying
I can tell no one, this is our one and only time with faded humor
You're breeding and you're dying with famished and frayed daughters of petulant sons believing hilarious rumors
I am dismembered much to my won't, the stentorious frolicking reeks around astute anecdotes of my pain of having a name
Even it's a fake one and adopted by pretty old me
The antidote of all this, love and peace, it must be the end of fashion and integrity
Peace and love cradling the waves wandering in mystery
Walking among the feet of trembling rage hungry for power, our love is just an island, but, not the little flower that just matured
If I engender myself, I will be free from being prematurely always on
Smidges and shakes for the collared contingent of successful women
For the one, surreptitiously resting under the invisible sun, sticking out their necks for none
Smack her flesh across till light turns still
The center light pops in expectation of blue days and flooring her money on her mind
On the reeling hail, tying the wrong laces and pushing wrong buttons
I left the hall crazed and surprisingly fully-dressed
Snake-like heads facing away from each other with their smothering hands around my neck
I unhand my royal touch and my license for the cream-crop
Not sure about my violence and clammy hands, but, my old man didn't like it all that much
Handing the trembling papers of my record for another dispensary
The errands that I have to run, I would recommend this to no one
Watching movie reruns and playing my new dreams in my trailer park, every time she was the one
Tea and teeming, brink and livid feeling, reelin' with the great high upstart
Cosmopolitans and Neapolitans, I'm probably going play to Jupiter jazz for another meridian of Earth
Red rain splaying like the sand Andalusian like, waving my hands care-free, only to slam my self down easily
Into another speakeasy with a wake-up call and nightcap, dusk till dawn
The day seems brighter and the sun scintillating like the queenie-eyes on the resting sunshine on the iridescent soil
Ecstasy open miles ahead, the eyes lay in peace and capacious lamps full of soul food and meals
Like lamps and little lintels, the coruscating fire makes the colors of the day seem much more real
The tears in Heaven are adjusted for a place in my salvation
Vitriolic, but, mellifluous in it's surmise, you're sure about the music you're hearing
Crouching upon old times like washed memories
Or is it the waters of the ocean afar from snake-like repellent waves of the oceanic dreams
The snake passes by, in the time of your lifeless soul
You were just pacing yourself, the motto is "Always look your prime and best"
They are your true reflection, this is the one and only reflective surface I will attest to, lest I sound sanctimonious
Bo vine and in vino veritas, you're ecstatic about auriferous objects
Sheep and tipping civilization with the conquest of the times, and the same sundial from Eratosthenes that made citadels
The conquest of Troy is any different from the present oligarchy
Librarian of Alexandria, and the Trojan horse of cursed hands mixed with the opportunity
A couplet for a couple of composite numbers is enough to tempt the prime number
In showing up in your  classes brimming with achievers, some students among them
Eratosthenes' sieve is diligent work on simplicity, so yes, whoever reads this, the wake-up call is not a snake bite
This is Stoicism, and poetry is stoic writing cannot be duplicated
The moral could be looking at hopeless dreams, helplessly
Just passing by without shedding any of it on your probity

If I wanted to jump
I'd fly
Away from this feeling.