I hope the command
Doesn't wander
That I want you to get better
Is it in your head?

Being or being free
Humanly this just a feeling, accretion builds me
The creation is bliss, blending with my curiosity

The undulation of the circus
Respiratory laughter and the accord is sewn
In his hair and half time is gone for the darker time
In this waning swan song
Now a life beyond his obsoleteness and her own, are we really perceiving their problems as a whole
As our own judgments cloud our derisive destination, leaving us on the road
We keep hating ourselves for the wrong reasons, are never truly free
The wars are never stalled and rebarbative delayed right after
The inclination we have towards our civilized sleep becomes rather rapid fleeting like an ephemeral glance
Retire and find what you admire, in this vastness of metaphorical life, and swim?
Where everyone loses meaning after, they are put out to work?
Are we relying on ourselves or letting ourselves go?
It's the thought that counts and the kind gestures will never stop
Just go and get anything you can set your mind to
Don't stop, till the fight is done
Don't fight, if you cannot stop all those thoughts
Simply wishful that they were words rather than feelings?
You probably feel like the rest of us, in this vast world of life and wilderness
Wildlife is something that resides in us, binding us in the starry stuff
Redacting everything believes in is the first step to a mind held without indescribable fear
Rain song wash away my tears
Like you wash away the levees that are holding back your freedom

You cannot find the sunflower samurai
Because your thoughts are
Under the invisible sun

The difference between
Knowing and understanding
Is the apparent consequence

I broke my toilet
And my narrative
Humor was profound like the war

As the term ends, our high school diploma got older
Some were getting wasted, or some couldn't handle the pressure
The pleasure came in some wasted alley where there was such moribund or hatred
As the term ends, our high school became more diplomatic in such erfolgt
They had finally realized that teaching them literature would cause a gilded outbreak
They hadn't contained the outrage of a few failing students hung by a very thin thread
Posers and imposters were making the most of this water
Putting any more biological crap would make education a palabra

You are a part of this di scion
A fallacious stride hurts your articulus genu
Genuinely sore wa tsumete wa, kokoro ko nanda demo natte
Genus and class doughnut matter when you're in the dorsal shadow
Underclassmen stifled by the pernicious tsuakata kumorobi do
Flying on swift imagination, rare as imaginary folklore
I wish I could fly and soar

Cold heaven could you be like this
Still, time keeps looking at my vigilant whites
The timekeeper on this eternal gaze on loveless souls
We could be like this, and remiss by the straits of direct derelicts
Understanding the giant
Is by being in its shadow
Like a heron
I put my beak in the water without a heart that dies
Like a fish
Escaping this forgone breast of civilization flowing freely
Mollient like money
Crying tears in demanding work without wage and a light at the end
Order and occults are all part of the same isthmus of divine love

Set me deep down
And pick me apart, when you feel like
'Cause I know you won't forget to remember
Keep me confused
With your picking up
Writing blocks about a stuck tape recorder

Every artist is an intellectual
Until
They get nervous

Step by step, tyranny
Tease me rough without laches
At least don't leave me in your protean arms, dissembled in activism
In my forged memoir of your laughing, your kauch killing me not
My katzenjammer can handle your astute Aesop's words and wanton
A lullaby to remember, an anxious feeling?
Pick me up at the open-sesame street
Lacunae, propitious, wasted by the remonstration and impertinence
This is my land of thought full of moral desert, in confidence
I am Tyler Durden's wasted brother in arms by namesake

I like how you shoot blanks, at me America
The way you pollute the atom bomb with your poor threats
I love the way you lie, America
You make me feel great again, and this country's climactic progress
I love the way you dress, America
You make a great stride when you read my emails and texts
I just understand how much need me, America
You would lose your identity if the New York boy didn't have a rich life
Smoking marijuana and drinking his cockamamie schemes by repealing claims from coked-up ******* rabbits
I like how you want to educate the youth, America
But, abort the freedom of women by not letting them choose, and regret

America you have changed my mind
You have finally won this argument of cataclysmic proportions and purposeful debate
By throwing obfuscation and f-bombs at the fake press
You have clouded my thoughts when I was sure about my services to this nation as a legalized smoker
America where art thou without the pristine freedom you make no light about
America where art thou est speak without instituting astute speech and repute for the self-made bourgeoisie
Where is the freedom you talk about if we are indeed liberated by overtures of powerful pleats of pages of the pothered plea promising trees
Does Make America Great Again, come hither?
Oh, America, we are envious of you because are just so proud
Like doting parents, we hope you stargaze in the global tangent of sarcastic racism and detention
We hope you find your true colors, America
Because it isn't Red, blue and white like someone's head in the clouds
It's purple and full of falling stars like a bruised ego
Like mandrake roots, where you sit upon the edge of emptiness
The ominous time which comes with our prose and fuller faces
We aren't scared of spending your money, America
Lest you spend ours and waste our time, you empty spectator

You really need a clasp
On the fair-headed looking for the essence of rain
Or you risk gasping for air
The knaidel startled me when I shared by numnahs
With the sensory deprivation that looked like the amnesiac
Running to pay the rent for my books
A young girl helped me sincerely and she was dead
In the library, who kept forgetting as they were trying to keep the books again
Curating each memory
Clasping the candle in the dark
We are finding love in the dancer of the dark
Maybe, we might want to leave the impression of dark people to a thousand stolid poles of lights bequeathed to the poor with their cold quilt

Sword-like jump over killer blades
Cutting through thinned ice and putting fire to flesh and bonds
Bodegas on the street light up like a tin corner, sending into the spinal cord fears and love foremost
Kintesuroi heaps flares wiping off your und ich lieb dich doch like shiny gold
Free by the lancing
Tell me how I love you, lapas lazuli, with eyes flashing like droll dreams
Ultramarine is where life gets discordant, oh yeah, you fill my fire
With sands of time, buying you a reprieve from the ultimate reward of pulses
Which is I'm not a man of the sword
But, I'm a man of my word
Gashing your thin air of sensual swords in the air of the ******* testing time for our friends who have our condolences
Not a callous coward subject to abandoning the contingent of buskers following feudal Japan and it's mandamus
Without leaving a dollar for the chilling murders
A walk on traveled souls might water and fire, a lot like the hotness of my temper
This tempered glass might stick like the simplicity of the pogrom
Bamboos shield us in the whistling wind of flight, letting us sword dance like assassins

The derision of the derided of the dedicated to the storm
The fire and the ice and the love and the rights and people of the demise of the dear and the redeemable
Medication and rumination sounds rather medical can you take through the bridge and preamble
Without the rhyme and pressing matters of the youthful climb
This is just a success ladder and a rare woman
Lugging a leather bag, pursed lips ready for sudden panging hunger
Like a feather fad endemic and indolent in nature, the droll *******
You telling me I'm alacrity and criminal in the numinous nimble loss for words, the fake feeling
Bewwushteinshlage tell me I'm not rising with the tide, the dyer maker
Hot dripping and filling and dryer head full of hairy dreams
The seeds and searching for the demise of the promising song
And the fresh feed of afraid and fearful peaceful people in this clouded age and premise obsessed by flippant speech
Of hungry people acting so foolishly and speaking through their teeth for the representatives of the burning heart of education
Good glaciers are this a revelation and puerile pride and repeat the same behavior if it's so lyrical
Can I tell my sorrows, and the thorough and boughs rescinding of the glances
Advancements come and go, the gut feeling is good to row
The feeling of building and the bullish ****** find of joking kindred spirits
Drilling pleasantries into ole' midterm me losing my feet and losing my need for finishing school
From the rise of the morning, the time is frolicking and not easy
Someone's running from the hopeful and the ****** and the futon for the shrink's naysay
Daydream and rolling dear ad veritas in this vine of dwindling nations, just a glass domino
Words falling like a little limerick and it hurts just distress others
Taking sister act and the distance doesn't matter to someone obsequious and robed
We are stunned by your logic and your jokes, but, you need to shut the **** up
Finally, awaken the human up and stare at the cellar and have a drink
Before the new fire sails through your life instead of the old flame you remember

The lovely new girl across the street
Looks like you might need new shoes
Because you keep walking into her
Maybe, she even likes it if you bump into her with an obviating feeling
You cannot place on your finger
Thence, she keeps wrapped around her fingers
Like a doorknob willing to hear you knock
Her brass apart
The lovely new girl across the great steel bully, can't look
Because she's busy gazing into those steely eyes
If you could find some warmth in her shade
Then, you could see past her schaffer who tends to her mascara
Holding on to your thrill like a race car, she'll never drive
Maybe, she does love the adrenaline of making the same choices with boys
The lovely new girl stays right next door
If you only could see past her unfurled face
And find her heartbeat
Love her like you love the spontaneity
Often, you will never want to see her desultory
But, if you coffer fill and prefer her hillybilly feeling
Or more like piqued interest in her hair that flows like stems and red rain
Welding the welcoming greetings of porous substrates of fresh lakes
Which you can see through very clearly
Lovely new girl, we see through you very dead
Lerners glance in the thick air of thallasophiles who believe in conquest
You'd cross many seas to find the right time in the right place, midnight comes softly like a adventure in a touseled hair guy

You're abstract
Like the wind
But, when you speak you poke
But, I can't touch you

I thought of a line
I could cross
If only I didn't misstep in the first **** with redness
Swapping bodies, seemed like swordplay
Trust was borrowed, like time in the place of battle
Cry if you will, in the dilemma of letting and let life take what it has to give
Commitment to your own doubts and drawbacks might not be living
If you do not learn to let go
I thought of a line
I could cross
Depends on whether you printed it and declined the advance
You could learn a few lines of a variety of virgils
Looking over the conscientious  daffodil
Like many flowers passed by my window
Beautiful like a writer and a rainy day that comes in livid pragmatic migrant
You learn to observe reality and keep as your own
But, that is just your interpretation
I could see through those tearful eyes when I loved for the first time
Looks like you cry over the same cracks of time
Crooked and prelude

A song kid talked of poetry
Like it was placed for thinking and for presentation
And nature was written in the attraction to creative arts
She kept burning the midnight oil
The streets were illuminated by the flame of distress and desire
To become better, and the single line that she knew honestly
Life might talk of different angles to the wretched circumstance
The perception of a child in the poor encumbrance of a truly myopic poet
The one of toil and summer, and writhing in your experiences
Life can be complex for someone who writes on demanding terms of endearment
This is called achievement and recess, or talk of wisdom

The frescoes of the overture
Of the laconic halls that turned
Into silence
The solar system looks right
Cowling and Scowling, and my airplane doesn't have any money
A splendor changed life now my time has come
Repairs and beef
Well, it won't when we have a fight
When I wake up, we make peace
I have seen this one and many times
This isn't the first one of them
Halcyon, as if it isn't the hey-day people
Neo-zoon dweebs who believe in Zeitgeist
However, there is much to be seen in this lifeless thing
You mean a dream
Dreams are just for real
But, it's the reality, I seek your impulsive tendencies
Buttressed by an affinity and this my fallacy
Sounds like a surgical decision if you tremble with fear
Truculent and truant people are here, oblivious of their hatred
Bundled like thespians, these boxes lie here desolate and warm
Keeping your memories and possessions like an image of folks
Hello to your poetic device that thrills my red eyes

The time might seem
To fly
When the memory dissipates into thin air into a fugue
When time went
To fly
We left like birds from a red sky in the vagrant sky

Thou est speak
Separately and in speech
Your life shys from the light
Where is your violent life
In purple bruises or redness of your cheeks
Just like a child afraid of the dark
Turns into the bard of barren times
Laconic about his problems
And inclement about his cumulus
The turbulent seas finally shine on this sunset line
Burgeoning bright oars from the stygian life
The tridents push you into the frescoes of reconnaissance
As you lose control of your helm
Your poem comes to a pensive finish
Making someone's poetry better and brighter ad
Cantankerous about fuliginous lines and the velleity towards writing disappears
Some lines for your frostbitten ears
That feel like the heat of icy burn of some desolate polar boreal search

The passions and pursuits all bunched in one
Makes one happy
And fun

The flow of the water is harsh
When it gains speed
It's soft when it's stagnant on marsh
It's changed when the trees are burning as we speak
But, the water might drown us out and so will our mistakes
So, I'm precarious about cynicism
About time I find the right piece of me
In these broken places
Where there schisms and facsimiles of the same problems
My responsibilities are resonant with their yeses
But, my passions keep telling me to change-up
My pursuit is somewhere in between this mess

Heralded indeed
Was this breathless feeling
Of breezing and the teasing feet
Splashed against the cerulean waters
Washing away the moss green
Maybe the earth could be a mimosa
But, that's just forgetful of me
Depends on how you look at what you're seeing
Watching the frenetic play on words gets my mind reeling
So, keep writing poetry even it has sesquipedalious happiness

I washed ashore on the ripples of my memory
Tipping on the edge on a mortal island
And my mortality seemed greater
The accosted sailor had saved me in a fit
He saw me with a nightlight
I call it a large lantern
Simple really if you wonder how many people
Would never find among the flora and fauna
Understanding the flow of the universe
And I found my peace already
Or I thought it was better than changing my rhyme each verse
That's why the free verse is like this
When you look at the things you observe
But, you miss something in them and the going gets tough
The lugubrious streets are something imprinted
So, I kind of glad that the sailor changed my mind about the reverse
And the fate I had was maybe changed by a Godly act
And my human luck
Or it was just the flow of the universe that I landed upon
And islands were just a part of the metaphor
That was lucidly my life
Liberating myself from these lintels and circumstances, it's hard to forget that ballad
The song of poetic device like assiduous alliteration of the streetlamps
Sequacious sundry of people and the contingent of the serried three
People on a lone boat occupied the place
And burned the forests down to an ashen pile
These sailors had come looking for old gold

As there was not much time to feel sorry
I held back my words and felt I had left the world without words

Cuprous blue seeps into the hue
Of copper salts that are soluble to a certain degree
Ionized by the quantum physics of fluid mastery
Some of us call it mechanics, unable to find the shapely
This semblance of a resolute material dissipates into amorphous structures
Characterized by homogeneity
The redness of the sky might be because the highest wavelength fits
I guess it's survival of the fittest
But, all of them are pretty light and coruscating
In this rainbow of seven hues and seen from a mathematicians perspicacity
In a chemist's hitchhiking imagination on highflying LSD
Desolate from his experiences, reveling in his trident of discovery
Meditation, microdosing, and maths can make a deadly concoction
So when will you wake up, if a chemist saw the light in ego death
When will you wake up, if a physicist saw the nature of light in it's the essence
Maybe, you understand the mathematics of this astral world based on senescence governed by adic numbers
Maybe, you understand the rush of not being anywhere that is akin to progress
The perfect circle might be a loquacious description of pi
If you are correct till each decimal point
Making your place on this map, with numbers that guide your numbered time

The breezing wind touches the flowers
That's why I look at the sky
So, that I can breathe in the aroma of floral spirals
In a box full bees and flowers
There resides a pollinating bud
Blouse stripped open, like a buzz bee

Langurously and dangerously inundated
These lines refrain from the veracity
Of the veritable mendaciousness of mending ways
The lugubrious feeling that causes lack of preemptive reason
May cause reprieve for our suffused mistakes
In time these will be lambasted, like barren lands
Famished by the deprivation of azure
These mortal beings want to condoned, not reassured
But, their actions are condigned by active enforcement
Of the very halcyon sights and commanding selpulchre
Tendencies of this predilection can cause the veritas of arboreal
Forests that turn into tiagus
Form the basis of the very animus among the conquered and divided by malice
Maladroit and mawkish, we are slowed down by our emotions
That's when pathos turns to emotional appeal
Lacking all integrity of dignified subversive statements that need studying
Sequacious individuals often disregard the employing of arduous words
While believing in abstrusities that should count as absurdities
Within these are caitiffs looking to follow the williwaw
When the crowd gets along in fiery cohorts and ardent cavorting
Are we simply gruntled?
Or are we turning into ice?

Look at what the cat dragged
In with it was bad luck
And some ragged claims to fortune
It's a lot like a feeling of dutch courage
And fallacious achievement which has defined the age
Of the enlightened
Makes the darkness slightly surreal
Adumbrating all of that darned cat's trophies
I guess I'm a lot like that cat
Who is smart and in revelry
I'm glad I'm superstitious
In this interstitial space where black cats
Cross the asteroid belt
And the umbra of some galaxy
Causes panic in us
Like bad luck, we believe in
Scion of some badland exists in the far off celestial body
Which might disintegrate us
In surmise, we are inured by the cosmic ballad
But, things have changed
But, karma when will you change my mind
I often wonder and my sepulchral thought dissipates
But, my faith remains
My faith like a watered plant
In this vast existential philosophy of what is sustaining us
Or can I live without Earth, wind, and fire
Maybe, I might die in the elemental phase of contingency
Where my ruminations have no effect on the vast causation
Where my contemplations are just a glimpse into the past
Like the metals that coagulate after they reach the surface
Halycon indeed, if civilizations aren't decimated by the volcanic will
To catch a falling star
Some of us are walking in the moonlight
When will we leave this Earth
Spiraling into the cosmic culmination of thoughts and reality
The dreams are a fine line between action and incantation
So, when is the night right?

I wonder why he has a smoke
I wonder why he has a beer
I wonder why he has been intoxicated, once before
When life is not innocuous at all
I wish that she took those things off my mind
And let me relieve the guilt and reprieve myself
When life is always teaching me through dilemmas
After I make all of the mistakes I learned from western cinema

In a world of people
Following inspiring stories
An orphan relies on your kindness for sustenance
This is inspiration
Led by preemptive example
In a world of people
Not for them
But, fear not
Orphans love the food you give them
But, they cannot think anymore
They only think of themselves
This is stratum of ulterior motives
In this world fluent with the language of progress and money

In a universe made for two
I light a flame to my cigarette
Each time you come in my way
And the pernicious mistake of believing that the first line
Is true
Wakes me up, every night
That's why I never think about you

Torrid fascination with the sullen
Sullen, being pejorative, is a need for the passionate
My life and my pursuits are the reason for my sullied imagination

I don't like honors
It just doesn't appeal to me
That such a surreal feeling of recognition
Is attributed to such intense hard work and innovation
I don't like honors
It puts on the pedestal of human achievement
Whereas, my work is meant for the few, who arrive at it
I don't like honors
It doesn't do me good to biased towards my own
Qualifications
That's why I love contributing
Because it gives me peace in this pensive mind searching for the end
Of the vast tunnel of possibilities, where questions are answered
And answered questions are an explicable form of logic
Contributing is a logician's ebullient dream
Because this hand is meant for forgiving and not taking
I guess that's why we have the sun set on a place too far
I guess that's why we have a fascination for the beautiful
Because it helps us understand ourselves better
And feel connected with our own art and creation
I don't like honors
It makes me feel like a destroyer of doubt
Rather than the creator of fascination and amazement
We have sullied the atomic bomb
Time for us to bring up our arms in rebarbative rebellion

I always believe in you
I just never thought
We'd get so far, so easily
All things are difficult before easy
There's a feeling that sets me free
And it tells me I'm wrong about all the niggardly people
Who deserves your love
But, sometimes we deserve this acrimony
To understand the probity of God
In this, we find our heroic nature
Sometimes, bound by sacrifices
We find things worth giving up
That's why I always believe in you
But, first I thought you were a periphrasis to my elation
To appreciate whenever you'd leave
The curating curtain silhouettes
Billows and keeps the shadows
Inside this crepuscular room meant only for quaint satisfaction
Like the smell of old books touches our senses
This room is my abode
And you are the subject of my desires
In sensible choices, I find your inspiration in my deepest dreams
Guiding me through creativity and reality, alike
Like a sun that cannot find its son, so it has a flame burning in our womb
Surrounding us in an eternal gaze meant for desolate souls like Pluto

The sequacious people
Are intellectually servile
In your loving presence
Kindness is a virtue
For the nascent soul and experienced spirit

The reason I listen
Is because of the same song
Reminding me of fragments of you

The river's flowing
It asks me when will I change my mind
When time reveals my true-self in due time

The girl who got away
Blocked her account
And left me with her memories
The girl who got away
Won't look at me now
But, will notice me in a crowdy street
The girl who got away
Probably, likes watching movies with someone else
But, watches the same movies we watched all over again
The girl who got away
Probably, got a lot better in terms of physicality
But, her heart is a bunch of bandages wrapped with each other
The girl who got away
Loves reading books
But, cannot bear to stop imagining life without reality
I just keep finding her in that library called love
The girl that got away
Met me for the last time
Leaving an everlasting memory which said, "I've moved on."
I finally understood what it meant after I loved someone else
And finally, when I gave back the books, I took from her on rent
She appeared to have become a cautionary tale
Quite quaint isn't it?
Unless I have moved on with dignity
And gratitude on display
Here's my book in a time capsuled by nature
Titled "Gratitude"
For a lover's fortitude
Each fortnight, this love story brings me strength for eternity
For swingin' lovers looking for respect

Got shot down in the parking lot
Working out all the details for my car
Walking out of the town for a boy or a girl
The night lady asks me to stop hinging on what doesn't matter
The 9 pm suicidal feelings
Got my blood yearning
Got my blood turning
Maybe, if you took some time to wait for the pill to settle
Utilizing the thin line between plea and argument
I might be in your bed stopping all the razor-sharp drama
Causing all the popping of the joints in the waxen girl
Who walks through the prostitution rings with her earrings
Crying through her mascara makeup with her whole soul
The 9 pm suicidal feelings
Got my blood yearning
Someone saved my life without warning
I told her to keep her degenerate hands off me
In a fit of rage, I stabbed her in her waxen skin
Realizing real death comes by chance and not suicide

The reprisals of your life
Cuts like the role of a comedian
In this sad tale of redemption and humor
Where we may be clowns to God, but, positive to each other
Someday, I hope we live up to this standard

The love you give is indeed bright
The sun thou est speak tonight
Cusps of the moon had a velleity towards illumination
Saying, c'est la vie, that's life
Of the boughs of beauty simply unbroken
By words of another world unspoken
The light of a thousand years
Brighten my sunshine morning that evokes the dawn
The darndest thing I remember is the moonlight
Of a thousand silver foxes approaching
In this folklore, we call eternal love

...The universe breathes in the dark

The bird flying on wings of adolescent imagination
Never stops imagining an escape
However, unforgiving landscapes make an example of adulthood
That's why I am the unforgiven
But, I still rise, stoically
From the ashes, devoid of ephemeral memory
Born to end the cycle of rebirth, once again

The redness of the sky
Is like the child in you
That's where I am
I hope you come searching
When I feed off your moonlight
I am the stars twinkling in this foreign land
To be seen by the naked eye
Used to the eternal breeze of vacuum
I live in your shadow and I've embraced it
By learning to light the candle without any oxygen
Like a candle in space that cannot feel the wind
I learn to course this vast river of inherent darkness without color
With my head in the empty sky, untouched by penultimate space

What would you do have a friend understand you?
Would you give up your imperfections
To have the perfect friendship?
What would you do if you were all alone?
Would you give up your solitude
For a feeling of being part of someone's problems?
What would you do if lost your true love?
Would open your heart to someone's problems
To have the perfect friendship?
If the answer is yes to all of the conditions
Then you are conditioned for a relationship
You are ready to love someone like your own
Take their drawbacks and turn them into your's
You are ready to take someone's flaws
And turn the hours into minutes
Just because that person makes you feel alive
She may even take you to the best place on Earth
That you may have always known, but, never explored
If you are willing to leave the idea of love
And love the idea of friendship
Then, my friend, you are ready for a relationship
If you are in love with the person in their most hateful
Then, it may be time to call it quits
But, telling yourself, trying is for losers
Is why winners quit, and quitters never win

I have used up my time
And the passions for doing better for society
Fulfilled my life with purpose meant for a select few
Few only understand my ambition
The placid rime of the literary movement
Makes me realize, time being an object
Of innocence imbibed in my veritas
In my wine, I find the truth in crime
Buttressing every feeling, within its intoxication
I find peace in my revelry
My merry men that share my head full of truth
Within these feelings, I find peace with my white lies
As my life gets darker because of foolish honesty
I sip my red wine with amnesty
The feeling of righteousness washes over me like a salty ocean
Immersed by beauty, I do stay afloat
But, the water is gone and so are the remnants of a squire
Who made me the person I am