Of broken monuments
Under ruinous spells
Of time
Exposed to dust of the wind
And darkness of the night
Lies a Sphinx
With a broken nose
Bonded with a broken hourglass
Full of sand
At Giza

Where's my job or occupation?
On this planet of employed men working line by line
Excusing none, as long as they are criminals in dream theatres
Or nepotist rebels, you call radical artists to build in ceramic pots
Tell me what's in the name of money, a jade sword
Is it your greed, that you learn your hunger from, a bleeding cut
Or the foolish is it if I ask you such a catatonic question, reading out
Unfeeling is it if I ask for a catharsis without cheapening feelings
Chester chooses his chestnuts well with magazines
Her name's on your tongue, but, her flights a long way off
True isn't it, that sky clears for checkers and crimson skies
Gosh, I wonder where you're looking for flickering lights
On the sun or the runaway journey, that ends on the runway
You could be running, tell it isn't your hesitation
It's just a chemical romance and repentance, for having inhibited yourself
Why stop yourself, if you have all the papers necessary?
People never stop when the traversing is just the thing they need
Travel is life, so are timeless things
I wonder how long we'll be here, really

Anger my blood
Steel blue
From feeling the blues

She brighter than life suffers
Capitulating offers
You keep within
My name
My experiences
With a suffering compromise
My identity unfolds
As I relax
Myself
Keeping my goals
In the outlook of progress
I may hit crossbars
But the goal
The minutiae
All larger
Sporting of rage
Within a shooting carnage

Dunes
Order
Beautiful pulchritudinous
Eccentric
Runes

As I walked on a beach
Among the ferns
The sea sand was out of reach

In odd shapes the water moved
As my heart ached
I knew there was more to do

Ashen sand castles lay strewn
On a place which was far from us
Or a figment of our imagination

Now, I look back and the whirlpool
Is all that I remember from our trips
On the sea, where the **** lay at the bottom of the blue

It's not meant to be
It is
Meaning to be
She tells me
To remove my heart in need
Slower with the words
I tell her
Eased out in the profession of clerks
Slower heartbeats
Than a typewriter's speed
In a stenographer's office
The typing reaching ears
Of the one in despair
And the one in the seat
Meant to be

In the eye of the storm, the waves ****** me aside
I simply trust nature and lose track of time
Holding my hands, praying for a fire in the distance
Or does my fire come from within?

Yet, a sudden chill comes up my spine
A hollow voice from my cowering throat signifies
The promises of a towering Captain Abe
Is it my place to lead the way?

Soon the sea will ring the knell on us all
I hold my breath and savor the deep blue
Will it hail whilst I sleep with the crew?
Tis' not a night of doubt, but to survive till dawn

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?

Sleep keeps
Me awake
When you're asleep
I'm the moon to your sun
Your lover in the long long run

I have twitched
And bewitched
Myself into a half-man and wolf of hamstrings made of heartstrings
Tearing out of the Vitruvian circle, livin' up in the absolute progressive ellipse
Brimming without you and within you, and escape the slips
Of whips and the crimson red of the lysergic chemicals

The pact kept me
In the de facto love
In the de jure soul
In an inured state of penury

The architecture set me free
It delved deeply into my soul
Keeping my mind occupied
And body an arduous vacancy
It was the Sistine Chapel
And the paintings were someone's
Draconian nature painted in
Snakes slipping through dreams
Of Adam with his manliness
Complimenting Eve's comeliness
Serried with innocent dreams
Slipping into as Biblical studies
As tabooed
**** entities
Ever been considering
Of Adam
Couldn't leave God's Index
It was recorded
In benediction
It showed strength
In liberty

The order is release
And I can't change my release form
I hope that changes my opinion about American Justice
The dream stays like an addressed flag, worn by a leprechaun
Cherishing the four-leaf clover and washed up Panama Canal
Cape Canaveral thanks for the rockets, the fallen angels

In the look-out of lamps
The peak of evidence in the ridiculous cheer
Cry, baby jeering
Indignant on the field of dreams
Suckling in his cropped photos clearly in kuv
Oasis and the mirage of love and teller maps
We crowd the love with the affection of all sorts of purchases
Venus bought Cupid a bow when he was conceived in her salacious dreams and voluptuous *******
Stammering with ransacked inns of heartbreak, hotels bustling
The battlecry sounded like the Camus in this outsider to life looking for exile
We can inadvertently enjoy this pyromania and **** our dreary fears with a sensitive soul
In the form of Gods, and belief in the love of residents of the heart so fickle
We are on the moon if we could just have our rightful place on the blue moon, away from the crass clowns
Whatever decides, decides whenever it wishes, without wondering
I just don't like dying to the idea of conformism or lobotomized
I understand the idea of being crushed, but, not disappointment
That's a something I cannot reconcile

They say change is real
I hope I can survive the night
To live another day to see Haley's Comet
The night isn't complete if religion isn't right

Alone again
I can't seem better
But, you won't try in vain
Alone again
Time runs quicker
But, I won't try anyway
Alone again
Have you any money
Right now?
Have you got any soul
To cash on me?

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

Through the desert
Holding reigns of a horse
Feeling no wind for a boat
With a sail
The rains don't call to me
With my heart full of remorse and pain
The journey seems rough
But my place in the rain brings love
To my blunt shape
In the suns and sands
Of the desert
With no rain
The sound of my voice
Rings through the plains

Arriving with the time waiting
For revival
The time is for China to take its socialist shame
Turn the times to the populace was the same
Truncheon tanks, and the whole shebang, the guy who died
Mao Zedong, Tiananmen Square, Creedence clearly an atom bomb
Away from a bunch of lies, dealing with slaves and something inside them died
Tangled up in memory, tangled up in the blood
Tangled up in a truant sundry, I'm unaware of the inchoate
But, the bloodshed reminds me, of the battleground that hasn't heard from the crying dead
We nurtured the poor, to feed the roads with our public money
Reconnaissance of every remnant individual, timbre, and everything, in an ephemeral second
We blew up in silent thought, without knowing of attacking and arresting atrocities all in the name of a thousand cuts
Cradling civilization, there will be blood, the sun's up on the wrong end of the pursuit of happiness
Numbed by the pain, the sun's up on the wrong of the pursuit of happiness
Tampering the evidence, conclusively ending my progress
Tanks rolled over the ****** corpse, mangling it beyond solidarity
None of us could recognize him
Things were difficult before easy.
The man was a genius when he was dreaming.

Thanks for reading my lines
Leaving me in the dark
Fading behind
Now when I see the light
I will always remind myself
That you left me when
Time was a darker side
To an endless sea of seconds
With the waves never seemed to surface
On the sands of time
Within the coffins and graves in a cemetery
Our faces were warped by the Terpsichore breeze
That danced over the mud and grass on a dandelion soil
Where the fire was pure, and the trees were so blue
It all must have been the skies covering the golden sun
When the trees turned green again
I said, thanks for reading my lines
As soon as time ended on a sunlit evening
We made the sun ours, as long as we ran
Time never ended in the darkness

So unfortunate, but wise.
Can't we keep smiling
Is this the radio on which you listen on
Or my life

I'll hold up this disguise
Calling you in the night
This is the freedom I want
I pray you will come back

I've wasted all these years
Fearing, you will never leave me
So, I touch myself in the mirror
Holding myself together after all these years

Writers are the purveyors
Of their souls
Understanding their colors
Working by the working week
Governed by the hour hands
Watching
For juicy content
Claiming the fruits of their deeds

Turns to the worst kind
In kindness
That's what he finds
Seems like empathy
Has a friend
In a lonely trend
Tried
But got caught up
The end

Like footfalls in a memory
I ignore the humble crying
A soreness fades, from abstention to hurt
I never reacted
As I freely expressed
I have felt your ascent
I have seen your descent
As I cascaded in contemplation
Into a wheelchair, I lean against
This vibrant child knows time

Making life better
Running from problems
Would make living a spoiled adventure
Running for race wars
Would make equality, a double-edged sword
Maybe, we should move forward, instead of stopping to fight
Confined by our desires, and blinded by our faith
Sordid about our affairs, short on time and breath, heavy on luck

Stand together
Keep shoulders and arms at Bay
Oh captain keep the noise from
Blinding us in the can of aeolis
The grip of reality and canned prunes
Are dead poets on a platter
Everything is not about dead poets
We live lives beyond tethered dreams and flying kites
Lying in the nervous phase to change the verse of existence
Questioning my life and the forked away possibilities
The soul of a workman and the treasures are under the sea when living in a sinner's country
Don't you let me catch with your chicken
Oops how about being in the shadow and nerdy
Levity is great, but the jokes are boring
And I'm trying go old school
To break your fever and the fervor
The pay of future debts makes your life a little less financial
Getting into different niche
I love how you change the beat and the might eternity
To me God, you're just a covert cover up
Of the plentitude of evidence
Of a drive-by shooting
The peace symbol for the one's in the sacrificed syncopation of superstitious line
There's no place like my space near Jupiter

I can keep remembering the memories
That should be trapped inside, in cupboards
That keep more welcoming things like custard powder and baking soda
It's all written on the grocery list of week's work
My workingman's dead
You do not have one of the things, or feelings
On the list of items meant for non-believers who hang like non-living things
Having their own non-living features and redeeming ways, still recuperating
Have we lost our ways, or I keep asking myself have I forgotten anything
If I can't title my desires and compartmentalize them, in closets meant for clothes
These are what I wear, revealing some cracks in the deep-ends
Broken places and war, you're stuck just like the rest of the thespians who seek purpose
Is it just an act, or am I looking at the story unfolding?

Alone
But with someone
Alone

I just realized
And thanked God,
I wasn't the only one
Godless shores all is one
One is all

I just realized
This is broken poetry
Meant for broken hearts
Shooting out arrows, direct and steadfast

Fast life catch a fight
Laughter in the madcap, you're holding
Us hostage, to your contagious humor
Nocturne blonde, hold me in your humoring lies

The bliss of black and blonde
Choosing peace over positive thinking

Sands in the storm
Reflection in the warmth
Of her eyes
Warmth in her sighs
Love's alright
Hand's waving to set you free
By the blazing by the sea
Seagulls in the breeze

It's my fault
But I won't apologize
For the way the words
Seemed to carelessly fall
Out of my lips
And enter into nothingness
As you would grasp for some
More...
Hanging onto my every last

Flying paper planes
Erasure mornings on trains
This planet is on the wheels of the Solar System

There's no need
For fighting
When you're broke
Breaking down
Seems better when the
Punches
Help you roll
With the
Many mundane
Crutches
That life
Puts you through
With a satchel
On your back
That's now an
Evolved briefcase
Of faithless leather

You planted
Wildflowers
In fields of sorrow

Why do I miss the chance
To be the tall among the mice among men
Among short people again and again
It's something I cannot afford
People extort from me extra privilege
On the metros and waterslides coaxing me pay more
Because I am the taller one in the army
That's why I'd rather skip out on being tall on the next date
So what to do when my crush wants a tall guy to eat cheese and wine with?
Giggle and dawdle I suppose
That's what dwarves are acclaimed for
Some dwarves are taller than lacdaiszical gnomes
That's the rule of the thumb, near the desolate ruin of moors
If I take the restroom on the left
The women make it your best chance at feeling free
When you kick down doors and backdoor men too
Soon pickaxes will be not allowed inside
Each seat is taken by the men in the restroom
Dreaming of the phone call and what it is to be bandleader

Pull the crows down from
The parliamentarian sky
Or are you asking to die, and they say this is ******

Date night, pretending to hate you
Resultant relaxation brings that, innocent look
A twinkle in your eye, uncountable like the planets
The windows to your soul, soulful like the clear water
That fills our glasses, unconditionally like the love you hold
Risking it all on our feelings, that's my devotion to commitment
A song that lasts
Stays with me in my heart
Like a bird that chirps hello
It never says goodbye
Because goodbye is far too sad and sudden
A sincere thought towards your life
Is like a caged bird that sings
I keep forgetting these memories, to forgive you for your mistakes
The fire of heartache
Is like a burning desire
A song that lasts
Stays with me all the time
Stays with me in my heart
Like a bird that chirps hello
It never says goodbye
Because goodbye is flying away to a land of wetness and dried out rivers
Like tears in the rain

Clarity is the only
Freedom of thought
That is unviolated by people's influence

Walking through towns
I seem to be an outsider
To the kingly crown
That reigning
Amidst the frowns
And the caustic clowns
Rules my life
And what I own
And my presence feels
lonely in the crowd

The baker gives bread to
Boys
Boys will be boys

My favourite cat
Did more than just **** mice
It had a short tale too

Don't wait for me
I'm always here in tried and tested time
Falling by the remnants of my old trees
Fallowed memories, marsh they appear
Unhappy girl, why are you here?

Anger's driving me mad
And girl's driving me mad
I guess my girl is fire
Anger is my ire

Let us then go, you and I
Into the evening spangled across starry skies
Will you bring the day to its end
As I get off at the next station

Hope is a powerful concept
If you can protect it
You may have half the fight won

It took me a long while
To really understand how we inure each
Other in two or threes, taking each number
Like a closed leading to an open door
Contraltos and passive ancestors have one thing in common
Lies and literature, it took to you to be a good person so what
You took to prison and a cell of broken speech and schools took you in peremptory pleasure, with some loquacity and leisure
Mellifluous or mundane, quoting has some substrata of truth, broken down into placid men in Lenin's underground communist movements
Black and broken like the hungry poverty, of the speech and resplendent sum, inventively locum tenens more than the summated parts of clients
Remeasuring the men around me, finding the inclination within singularities
Violent and breathless broken poetry

Back in the day, when I was gettin' creative
Before the swirling circles, and the curly sands of Poseidon
Using and the London, and the murky hills of the bumbling
They ne'er dissolve, an acquittal is for the cooking
Simple daddy don't you know the simpler cycle
The quest for booking and the truckload of fat foam
The Fromage and the homage to the dean and the youth
To the levered the Cali massacre, and bullish cars, the greyhound bus takes you
From the divorce court to the trial, shake moneymakers now
Take the Levee till it's dry and the champagne supernova for granted
The dressing of the coquettish dream of Jane Austen, in her sense and sensibility

The mundane nature
Of something
That can be maintained
By the force of nature, and the pressing matters
All fall into some kind of unconscious wiser self
That, your own nature
It isn't tabooed by your ideology
By simple tautology, you can make the logical connections
Some kind of fluid motion in the large but infinite place
There's your hope in your own self
It's your indecision
That makes the entropy of the universe
The chaos that presently brings
Tomorrow is your own perception of this hope
Maybe, if you can take your time
If you tried
You could probably think that this void
Is filled by that point of view, and it gives you acknowledgement

I try to write poetry
While balancing my life's responsibilities
You are the perfect balance of the two
My child
My love