Your whispers will echo through the thundered seas
Memories will tear the sails from the canvas seams
A soldered heart that was once a levee
Now broken and flooded

Our love is a rocky shore where sailors dare to dream
Ships of words are wrecked by bombs under covers of the night
We see the sight of hope but hope is not our guide
It is a distant dream after the thunder dies

Then the journey comes alive

Do not disturb me
I get angry
When I feel lonely

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

**** literature
If you want
But, don't keep your head in your ***

With a heart so warm
A palm of flowers
Folds inward to form
A gossamer web likened to guitar

A lush petal envelopes
The sky, calling it
With a stamen, sloped
Undressed by pollen upon more pollen

In thy heart's rest place
One may age calmly
Like a tree freely grows
Leaving a reflection upon the water

Yet, when away my heart yearns for your kiss
For your presence in things has gone amiss

You can handle your music better than your fumes
Fury of guitars, and sopranos better than your human
Humean passion Lemmon calls you out of the some
Like it hot as a wire, to be continued
Broken poetry might be a Luddite
Crashin gon the bed or the funambulist
Of apartment fringes, and the crescent crazed steering little
Lintels of the elementary of the crowd, among the militant
Literary of the eyes that see-through in the clashes among the bright guns
Son of the Brixton feud
Pritchard of the meritorious crowd
I band with their hands
I lend cuticles as I crush my body to write these, free light in your darkest meanest face that sheds light how it is logically demented
Pandering to the meritorious merry crowd, felt better when you are cumulus in the inexplicable ineffable lustrous tame floods
Servicemen, and slaves deal with their infested shy rooms, mushrooms
Ask, speak, service, and bleed out in your pen-appended murmur

In the cerulean
Beyond the empyrean
Sits heav'n
Amidst the ethereal
Kings gaze at the arboreal
Aftermath of a punished protean
Player in life's game of profit and ruin

I'm at the cliff of existence
Looking down at my friendships
And lack of innocence

Lies stare at my face
And liars and scammers hide their's
As I try find a trace of truth
In this world for me and you

Hello, everyone
I am writing
I am sure that you have written too

Soon, the government will ask for our poems
When they forget that the medical reports
Are too difficult to read
When they realize it is too late, our poem will live

Let's take a little time
Before we assume what we know
And decide that what we believe
Is right

We need to read between lines
In case we need be together
In the future
When we get older

We must scale these mountains
And hold the hands of the sun
But, we can't climb
Without trusting ourselves

Some rare nights
When I think of the world
The fabric of space and time
Just splits the swirly smog

It is for some seconds
Through the cloak of darkness
Before dawn
In the painted knit of jet black skies

I can see the diamonds of the night
Like people on empty streets
They are scattered
I wonder, lonely stones come from where

They seem to belong to me
No one shares the same stars as I (except a poet)
Yet, they choose to be in the coldest nights
When I think of your cold glare

Except, diamonds are forever
You're the scientist
Who taught me this
Through heartbreak

That a ball of gas
Which is million miles away
From our living world
Is already dead, is only alive as an afterimage

All we have is our love poetry
People are now eternally in the present
That is why some of us are poets
Because we live in the past like dying stars and write

Is tomorrow another beginning
Or the end of the beginning
When does the perfect ending come
If it does arrive, what prescribes the reason
To precedent can we hold it to be worrisome
For us, tomorrow is just an anomaly
A wordless remark on the fruit of today
If it does have some patterned conscience, how do we stop hurting
Like birds without flight or wings
Grasping the sky, without purpose
Always singing the caged bird's song
Forever, even when tomorrow comes
Bolted doors will be removed and empty as windows
Opening of loading docks for homeless ships
To return, without knowing they ever left
Abandoning the captain of this vessel
Who believes in patience
And living in the present

Yesterdays that you dream,
The often going and seeking,
Destiny calls you a snake charmer
Shapeless like water, you call the moons
The legacy and destiny, meandering with suns
You can see these brooks in the undulating truth, caviling and compressing

It is knowledge
That you seek
When you hide

When I left you
The idea
I'd be someone
Who leaves you
Left me speechless
And blank

The transient green
Of munificent trees
Taught me magnanimously, money came
With the autumn leaves
Experiencing the barren branches
With fields of fiery gold
Leaves
And me simply speechless
At the sight of the capriciousness

Of the autumn
And I as I leave
Like a cool breeze

I hope you have a good time
Good times, never lose you to time and tide
A man standing, or woman waiting
Can we find a balance, between two of these lovechildren
Waiting on the opposites sides of the floor, nobody moves
There's a water that crashes or takes the shape of teacups

The human nature doesn't deceive
In some emotions
I found your instinct match my life
It was the smell of the battlecry
In a town of full agrarian economists
Who realized the buckwheat was the staple
Of this life of lateral paradigms
Being single, it feels like I'm a single market economy
Constraints in my ****** positions
Might be uneconomical for our desire for leisure
We sit and stare
Not knowing what Renaissance statues atop of Vatican structures hold
From the boughs of humanity and sounds of silence
Rising from the troughs of the highs and lows
Comes a sepulchral cry
Of a passion that might die

Poetry is not tough
It cannot be taught
The outpouring of your heart
Feelings put into metaphor
Mingling a need into an art
Requires passion and courage

Poetry is a release
If you need to express your hurt
In many ways using less lines
Like a street full of people
Looking for their dreams in rush hour
Yet, you will never find it there

Because poetry is not tough
As it needs a quiet place
To talk about it's problems
And open his soul to you

No answer
I switched that switch off
Take it back
It was years ago, and we were free

I always thought the sky could be blue
In those paintings, the clouds were out of tune
They were grey like my heart
They were white at times

The blue sky never knew
When the rain would pour
Or if the sun was to come out
If the people were there

As you talk
I cannot help smoke a little
In my mind as I am abstemious
And write about me
Sip on tea, so that I am not tempted
As you spit out the pips
Of an orange
You cannot resist some mulled wine
Neither can I
But I'll make liquor flow from your lines
Intoxicate your muses
They will pay a dime for your time
A pocket is enough for the stars you want
In your prime you may have taken a sip of milk
Now you're a someone I can have later
With sugar and cream
You are my cuppa tea
Spirits talk to us as we caress our glasses
And tip the wine and let time flow like love

The pallid expression on her absent face
Her fair skin has lost it's marble touch
She is prudent and prurient as her gaze
There is a youthful grace that I cannot judge
Must I comprehend, this alabaster?
Should I presume, the sculptor made an erroneous smudge?
In a park of tracks and pulverized people
Their faces clutch at her words
As they are left only with the epithets and hardly any details
My landlord pleads for rent as I reach upstairs
He wonders and wants to know more
Should I reply with mumbles?
It is a festering wound at my heart's core
That coagulates at my throat as I fumble
For there is no answer
There is no question
It is just to do or die without her
All of it can coalesce
If I give in to my fiery adolescence

Every artist is an intellectual
Until
They get nervous

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

Dark globe watch hang in the Hightower
Oe'r our captain sail on the lovely towers of oceans
Tumultuous frenetic was once a lad's new order
Squall, riders patient beyond the thee
The form on thee light that stared in the other boy who hated that boy's shadow
The breadth of heights
The heights of breaths
Dancing with the girl from Phoenix's ashes, blue coruscating hassling eyes took us from raging terrapins
Dark Globe Watch keep us in the memory of Aeolian
Get out of my dreams
Take me in your arms, I'm really regretting this one
Imagine how you would regret if searching truth was the absence of lust
But, the bloodlust can be heard in a soldier's company

If you cut hair
Make sure you sweep before you go too
And cut other's before the beat

Fear washed away like a man
Like bread among the ghettos, ***** for the well-read
Dulcet tones ring for sinners washing their dilemmas
Fortified war?
War is born of trauma, challenged by hope

The sunshine dying to play sunny in California, always ages
The goddess left his side, thawing out in your cove of scenery
Everybody slivering on the grass being greener on the other side

In peace
I reflect upon myself
And I see nothing in the mirror
Of what's seemingly fair
I guess it's imperfect
Even though it's rare
Having dubious doubts
About future debts
Peace isn't pecuniary
It's a 100-yard stare

****** by controversial action
Solved by acquisition
Of a Noble position
About obligations
They are your acquaintance, or to be intimate with fools, because they may be your relations.
An obligation is a common tool for prosaic attention

Her fragments fell apart
Her time was short
The longest thing was the prison sentence
Full of tally marks, and wings that were burnt
On the brink of becoming fire and ice, and unbeing
In watery bushes, and shrubbery that hides in the gallows
Unfeeling like mires on the sunset line
Her hairs fell like wires, and the apartheid told us
She was meant to be broken, and even ****
Just not everywhere

I felt the sun rise
See it beyond the horizon
Speak to me of life
Basking in the sunshine of my tries
Hollower than the Lord's light
Hallowed be thy name
Rings inside
I scream my name
In vain
Heart is as the hand of God stays
I hope that my song plays
In the meaning of some distant way
Of travelling men

It's dinner
Light's are turned down
Dimmer
Mmm
Dinner

Do what you want to do
I wish you rested in spring's adventure
Mayflowers move across St. Louis
And Missouri has the same heat
I never change if I remember these things
At the end of the world I go away
If I don't stay and the Sun revolves
The Earth sits as the wars have their attention
We ignore our Mother and so do the followers of religion
If we knew that true love was not wrong
We would be true to ourselves
Why do I tip the balance
When I grow older and older
As the rivers carry the bold fishes
Who may live longer than they swim
How long will we **** the seas
And the rivers will never see an ocean
How long will the trees make paper
And no longer strange scented silhouttes
In the ground of beautiful Earth
That my parents taught me to appreciate
Corporations confined me to the deracination
Of thou tempests that flow through placid skies
Where arboreal forests touch
Till they can no longer set foot on Earth again

Meant for each other
Leaving with one another
Angels flying overhead
For your world's sisters
and brothers
Tried and tested times
of the lover
Contrite about making mistakes
Heat brings the attrition
Of the Painstaking breaks
In the relationship
That was once heat
Now flowing
In the cold cold wind
That feels
Icier inside

The desert
Reminds me
Of the thirst
That lies
Replenished
Behind
A
Mirage
Either
I die
Parched
I make peace
Quarrel
Caught in Moses' storms
Of memories
The waters
Of nervousness
The hell breaks loose
When I find you
At the end of the pool
The light
Reflects
On the law
Of Survival
The oasis
And the sun
Come as
One
When you
cross the sandy dunes
Looking as old
As duels
Of Westerns

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

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

Swerving
On a car
I trusted him drunk!

The floral vase was broken
The roses look complete
On the vase and in it

Your heart is hidden
But your love is on my hips
Because you are sweet

Your invitation is on
The heart wants what it wants
My heart welcomes new love

I seal this envelope
With a bit of seething wax
You can open and see it, leaving a letter mark

My other country girlfriends can tell ever so sudden
I have had sweet love in my life
But, you're so social

Lay in the shade
A day out, new moon hiding
Tomb turns around on breaking dawn
The dead man turns around in his grave
When the flowers stop coming
When the graves stop burning
The truth dawn on me, and shined on me

Germinating by the dull roots, April is the cruelest month
Truth tells that our soul can fight this cruel cycle
When the planets align, we look up instead of our red earth
It's an eclipse, right?

"You're blocking the light."
She said laconically
God replied,"Sorry, I think I was being shortsighted.
Here you go."
Almighty doesn't move
"Thanks" he approbates

I've been waiting for you all my life
Just to rest in your arms
Now you're on my mind
See if I give a **** tonight

If I kick myself for loving you
Will you be there to save me
Because I know you won't care
As long as you've vanished without a trace

Hey, can we talk
I get anxious
You are my source of remedy
I am hooked on to you
Like once everyday
I am needing you
Like twice for a weekend
So my Monday are artful
And Sundays paint the sadness
My days are losing colors each Friday
Saturdays move by on islands
Without smilingly or lively holidays
Hey can we speak to ourselves
Or do we need a break
Can you stay or does
The phone seek any use
Maybe, we could talk uselessly
Over poetry and power of penned words
Summing our daily grievances
On social media’s phone
Hanging up the calls
Rather than allowing bluer atlases to chart our conversations

Finished my education
Heading for college
New expectations and people
Like characters and plot-lines
In the books I carry.

Boyd and Candace
I am a backdoor man
On the front line
A hard luck soldier
I write prisoner's wives
From Western Union company

I am a dungeon keeper
If the weather allows it
A hue and cry calls from under
Tethered to a teletype desk
I am a victim of my pride
Boyd and Candace hear my plea

I am chained to a job
If I love my wife
My son grows seven
If I scaremonger in Plymouth
To call politicians fake
Boyd and Candace let me pull a gun

The judges reprimand me
With their eyes of steel
I escape my own anger
By praying that God grant
Me my death by a cocked revolver
Boyd and Candace pull a roll of tens on my bill of death

The ember of time
Lights like a fire
In the embracing of a concept
That took a nightcap
And the candid, are really sure of the phone call
That lit up the thirst for knowledge
Of redundant problems that require further realization
It's feeling, no modus operandi, no feeling of veritable nature
In this compromising mother of nature
Since the wide eyes fallaciously wake
And the indolent breezes that wash over me like sirens
The loudness of the morning sun wakes me up
Like the smiling Sun prays for the unnurtured
From the dark, you can see the light
If you dig further into your force of nature

Lying on the couch
Like a sketch
Lies my mother
With the same breath
As I expressed

Prison keeps us away from family
Family keeps us from prison
Love keeps us in prison and away from family
Because we do some crazy stuff when we are in love