Much to the chagrin
Of the wives and girlfriends
My drunk friend in the inn

It is often said
That living is the rarest thing
Some people merely exist
I can promise myself this
That the rivers will flow
And the trees will bring wood
Fish don't have feelings
But, innocence fades
That is what clears my conscience
The iota of ephemeral contrast
I can sustain a worthy purpose
Which may have a fleeting foundation
One of immense virtue
That a plebeian approach cannot understand
If I take the crooked path
I can walk among my peers
Who have been waiting
For me
To live free as well
But stand strong I must
As I gaze into an abyss
Without purpose
Undoubtedly determined
I can do something, methinks
Instead of doubting my own perception
Yet, I cannot predict
When the diurnal birds will go in abmigration
I simply forget
Some skip south much of autumn
I cannot remember
When will the solitary tree lie bare
The weather behaves like an intelligent child
No one knows where the wind goes
If you ask why, you question your wisdom
Only you and yourself
Can find the purpose
For the phenomena within
That tells you to move on forward
Contrary to popular wisdom
Until the final beat of an unseen presence
Ushers you into its arms
And like an abyss staring back at you
Tells you there is no rainbow down there
To confirm your fears
Or affirm your immense virtue
Your glory fades
When death holds you closer

If the moon calls out your name
It lets out a whisper
Because my heart speaks to it softly

The saddest of emotions
Are in memory
Of happier days
Compressed in minutes of bursting
Into tears

When I look forward
Looking back
Didn't seem like an option
For the present

The present
Is meant for
Preparing pheasant
For dinner for the innocent

Literature takes a special place in the mind.
Where you can keep practicing reliving mysteries.
Celebrating adventure.
And preserve the childish imagination.

In the form of an enigma.
Where experience meets experience.
Where reality and dreams can coexist.
And there is a thin veneer that separates us all.

Opinion and fact are the same in a work of fiction.
Such is the nature of our perception.
Different from one another.
Existing in all in individual form, immersed in words.

The essence of literature is to rebuild the soul.
And tear the intellectual apart.
By introducing.
Love, peace, and spiritual communion.

Psychic glockenspiels come from western civilization to steely dilation
The sun may rise and the Swede's dreams looking for hindsight and elation
A cinema mon amour, the compensation spreads like their legs on ovulation, it's Ninotchka's dilemma with fornication
Firstborn of the soft-core **** of the thorny copulating, and yonder lying in waiting till you're a ne'er zaftig
First-form soothsayers, and strides of samba spies salivating with charm, you're a tinsel town in the maelstrom
Lick your lips, and lickety-split, you're in the instigation of salacious mating
Of a **** of minor, and crime of a major elemental nature, you'll get sentencing from the abyss of vultures

There's no life in her eyes
There's no warmth in her heart
I'd said to myself that she was kind
When the veil fell I saw Death waiting
No love, only secrets to immortality

While shackled forever
In a circle of fire- without sight
What did strike me as beautiful was
The time I spent dying in her arms
No love, no more secrets this time

I drove all the way
Out here on an empty highway

Should I keep going
Or stay with the rust-colored sky

I'm not sure
But, I sure love the horizon's shine

The eclipse on the cacti
A bit of light colors the reptile

I know behind the blue sky
There's a diamond mine

But, a bit of dust never hurt anybody
So, I stay back searching for the oasis of my life
With many miles in sight
With many miles in sight

Before I sleep.

With the first sign of rebirth
Came the gift of time, extended
In its renewal and revival, further
Offering the restoration of friendly relations
All done as an act of reconciliation between progress
As well as forgiveness asked of our mothers, everyday
Within such gifts intended for the common crowd
It is at the stroke of the halcyon hour
That we forget our sorrows and crumble like bricks
What is of this sad ending that we talk of, intentionally
That plagues the essence of the mind which is white as snow and trembling
Only cloudy days can show us the purity of ice
When the clouds do subside, the sweetness that preside
All talk is forced into stony silence under the dark night
Through the mad-sort of palace of time
Where there is a time to withdraw into the study of history
Ashes to ashes as well as fire to fire
Dwelling in a cold curlicle of a silent galvanized gate at a cemetery
Behind a rose garden, where the woodpeckers beak at the windowpane
Rusted beyond recognition broken into windy submission
Such things are built for no purpose and no future promise
Only to sustain posterity and labour
Not to make use of Earthly resources
An old man still waits for the rain
Saying that he is hiding behind the arras of an isolated house
Where the sepulchre is hidden under a rock tattered by zephyr
A string of creeper prostrate themselves, whimpering
That ostensibly grow, under the shadow of a thatched roof
Only to never be seen again in daylight
Of rebirth and redemption
Such is the creeper in the daylight
That lives in utter recluse and retreat

The person upstairs
Hasn't lost faith in you
He just comes downstairs
To put you on a level
You can jump from
And keeps doing that
Till you reach Heaven
That is Nirvana

We swirl like the dragons
Free from dungeons and darkness
In eternal salvation like salamanders
Although we aren't lizards hanging from trees
Hung up on life and disease
Breathing the air of autumn leaves
Dancing with the breeze, and ceasing to exist
Sending you our energies in the form of soft lullabies
If you can add to the good, you can keep away the evil
You can bring peace to yourself, and others in desperate need of quiet
You can be free from the peace of mind
Understand freedom in a nutshell, hanging like frescoed paintings
On top of a shelf of porridge and crimson red cherries, pears tresses
The parchment of each other, writing well within the textual framework of partridges in a pear tree
We can pray together, or remain silent forever
In vow of silence, and make lonesome Lumos shine bright like the kites running after in eros
Of the atmosphere, silenced forever, we sing lullabies for the ones to hear in their peace
A man with a peace of mind can understand silence and hold his tongue in the palm of murmurs
The sound swirls through the dungeon-like darkness, hunger for a touch of soil in the cold icy winters
We moon over these things, and it dawned on me that silence can last forever
And it isn't always good or bad
Sometimes it is evil to press and good to release yourself
Expand your mind, and be shapeless like water crashing against troughs flowing streams of fruit
Rivers could ripen, feel the song yonder deepen your soul
We wash these tears, from the eyes of agreeable people and disagreements come to me in a dream
These dreams are made of arguments and debates, I reason with myself unable to ever wake up in the morning
Howl from the depths of hell, and arrive on thin lands watching us with thin eyes like mirrors on cars, add what is specifically your own
Arrive in heaven, better to reign in hell
I'm lost in paradise on this ruin of thy moon and stars
Looking away from the fingers pointing at me like apples and bumps
Words are for the lugging carriage, to carry out their travels in their worlds from battered broken places
Wry comments from the crowd, and some cages of parakeets singing in kisses
Snakes in the grains of rice, stopping us from hissing from our caregivers and calling them unforgiving
Without food, I do not think I could live on
Without a mirror, I do not think I could live ignorantly with this hubris
Ran from the house at the age, I don't think I could live in such a cold climate
Raising my glass to my birthday invitees, they look at me blowing the birthday candles out, I'm in the seventh circle of Hell
Knells and bell tolls, ceramic steel galoshes, bitumen, and hydrophobic gum puts these dharma bums chewing grass together in apple streets full of cosmic debris
That look young and pretty, and pestering me with a limerick for some hypnosis and mirages in this solipsism
Aging like a dragon that used to burn out the flame of Hell, saving the morning again and again

If you're so cosmic, why don't you explain life to us from the Beezlebub spell, little dragon

The years go by and I want to swim by the pools of wisdom
But always dream of myself arriving naked a school
In absented mindedness, I arrive at the period of boredom
As my vast experience of educated sorrow
Educated lie, the trains have gone
I eat potato chip
And I can tell, the longer the sentence
More it takes for her to repeat everything that went wrong
And doing the right things at the appropriate time
My lovely anonymous teacher

Summer, summer tomorrow, comes with expectation
A day doth bring here its heat
She stares from the heavens with electricity
With a breeze lithe and scarce, it walks over the earth

Stately and respectful in her stride
She hides behind clouds, when out of sight
Her beauty tempers the mind and calms the nerve
A weather so delicate, not a degree or ray less or more

But, when comparing her breath
The heavens turn and stare, wondering what despair
Plagues the incomplete soul and a heart so bare
Like moons hidden from her nascent stare

Scorning the cold moon, the torn heart
Looks for the summer, while crying for heaven's arms

As the dry wind sweeps my hair
The capricious prediction of bystander anticipates heavy rain
The life I had once is now a suitcase
That will stay with me for the next journey, maybe

Do you drive past her place
At night
In that isolated town
Where the streetlights don't light up
Do you walk past her window
Whilst staring at your shadow
Wondering how things ever got so out of hand
Do you cycle with your friends past her fences
Wondering why she never comes out anymore
Getting tired of the suspense?
As your friends keep asking
Whether she sneaks out
Because she is grounded
Or she doesn't want to be seen by you
And they chuckle
At the thought of this
Confounded

She's a small town girl
Give her some time and she'll get around
After all she is vulnerable in your arms
Just like all the other girls

I tried to depend on you
Feel more than I could
Now all I have left
Is what I used to be

Drained of color
Void of life
Emptied of water and sun
A flower cannot grow freely

The flowers, the bush, the bees
The trees
God's melody

Search your soul, linger till you grow
Old in fields of gold, rain comes so does the hope
Hostile buildings flying around the head, like buzzing bees
Criminalizing every last convict
Coining every last name in the prison register
Treason and trainwrecks have conviction in common
Break the tough chains, with tough breaks
Tinkering like thirty-years
Breeding and birth is a part of the fleeting memory, of high and dry
Try and you can quench the thirst of a couple of people at the end of the road and the rotation of crowds
Brimming with satisfaction, I can't find the child that's always dissatisfied
A bridge on time of carnage would be better than burning the commodores
****** mysteries and bebop, tell you can light your own enigma
Lady luck is fickle, she got razor-sharp claws and got 'em all
Too bad she tears up the fateful roads that are meant to cross-point like the stars on Moonlight drive
Fear in the darkness and in the loathing of Las Vegas
Leers and glances of the beatnik and bookish boys, gracing every with their masculine advances
Being bums and being contended
Pardon me, c'est la vie, cinema mon amour
The shards of saviors slashing samurai swords and serried sands
Lands, composed the Magna Carta of the time and sending off
The harakiri killed the suicide solution, the feudal times with Japan in the cherry blossom
Trees falling transient photos, stills on the artist within, touch the sword
Can't get the arrows and bows, quip, fly the mistakes by the taste of killing stakes
Bleeding soldiers, in the thousand men in gracious faceless
Read-write the scrolls that stand the test, emptiness is just a reflection of the blind
Eye to eye, blinking can't avert an artist's eyes
This is the hummingbird that hides, the cusp of time and cutting vernacular
The chirping and belonging of the terse stories of the counts and countesses of the summer loathing
Heralding the sun, and it's God in the sands of time and talk of tides
Working like the winds and winding solar clocks, and lunar dials
Tellin' and reelin' in the direction of the red skies, see where they make their mirages

Music is the soul
You can hear it in the rubber sneakers
The fogginess of this song
Finished by the word of you

With their pups and kittens
In boring cardboard boxes
An orphanage
Runs in the deserts
Amnesty
Creates hopes through
Providing food
To well-watered flowers
Children just keep blooming
Beautifully

The tree that once offered shade
Its leaves freefall my way
The winter hasn't changed itself

How can they be so free in their sway?
And my flowers linger for the canopy
Nature is mysterious in her ways

The summer's warmth is awaited patiently
Yet so is the winter cool
No leaves for cover nor forests for shelter

I have spent battling the winter blues
And the ceaseless storms
Then why must I wait for the truth

Just because I love you
Should I wait for fate to open its arms
So, you can too

For all the right reasons
I wait for you
With each season

To see us in time
And space
There is some kindness in the stars
I just count my blessings

A wise man
Questions his own ideals
A fool worships them

Can you be the fire to my wood?
I'd love to take you out for a cup of tea
But, you seem like a woman meant for caramel coffee
Maybe, you aren't just meant for me

Hence, we weren't a pair to be
You had to make it three

Most women
Want to stab me in the back
But she didn't
She was just confused
The moment she held the knife
The world went quiet
Her heart throbbed a little
Better to take the pain
Than to take a life
Right?

The sun waits over the hills
To liven the lilies and daffodils
As I am caught in its embrace
You have left this place

The grass plays
Sunshine is scarce
A breeze chills
It is beautiful and powerful

The trees are bare
But they let in the sun's hue
Its warmth shines through
But I miss the shade

Winter has come and gone
Summer isn't far behind
You have left a coldness in my life
To you, this is my song

Rushing with the piece
Resting with the ease, of the meals
Hunger of the daydreams, and elation
Rush of blood to the body
Rushing into ravines into the edifice
Friable spice and the ravines, protean about my description
Repetition of the surreptitious, debate preaching
Pecunious, fidelity and high on life lying on my own
Each to his, one for his own, stress about the abortive
Imitative, about love being his stressful, hurtful for her
Free, and then shielding myself about it, hurting her
With defenses, maybe, going to cry broken fears through the ticking time

The years have gone by
That can keep you alive
As much as memories
Dying in the times
Of a forgotten friend
An enemy now
I can keep for life

Love can bring
People together
As well make them respect
Their differences

I see men
Christen the streets
With the same innocence
They show their friends in need

I see women
Touch the pavement
With the same touch
They feed their children

I see children
On both sides of the road
With bowls in hand
Asking for more

A forest full of tears
Cries in the morning
Goes to sleep at night
As we tear its bark
After dark

He says you need a cigarette
You look stressed
That's the last thing I need right now
We need to go somewhere far off

On a distant pond
Where the rocks break the ripples
And the sun reflects in your eyes
Intoxicating me

As I peel off your thin disguise
It is the last time
We'll meet
So let's make it last tonight

I sped the highway and hungered for adventure
With a broken down car
I once called a floating river
Periodic clouds on the outskirts hustled and bustled

Once you move on, this song will be yours
The memories I left behind will falter
Tomorrow will offer the same promise
To people deserving a love like yours

With each ephemeral second, you drift further
But, the right guy always appears closer
I wish you could see the wound inside me
But, I'm glad I could set you free

I see that the gems that are hardest to find
Are worth the journey after a while
I hope you find these words I left behind
I hope you get the guy, you always liked

Shadow falls
On the clouds
Like light
Lighter than feather
Are the birds
Touching the skies

The cereal of the morning
The jam and bread
The haze and shade
Of a rainy day

Birds sing better
When the sun's out
Shining
I keep a pocket
Full of dust
For my possessions
Full of pistols and guns
The deceased don't ask for much

...The universe breathes in the dark

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.

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

If not for you
I’d grow old without living life
Riding chrome horses with a calm demeanor with my charismatic wife
Passing by bakeries and butcher shops cutting bread and spreading red wine with a knife
Getting off at our destination I would start to get rude
If not for you

If not for you
My wife wouldn’t fall in love
To me she would’ve been the white dove
Of peace with hair of a golden fleece
And I would regularly meet my niece
Like I used to
If not for you

If not for you
I’d be drugged and bugged and gray
I’d probably end all of it by May
But till this year’s day
I still could say
Beside her I lie
Because I need her too
But I hope I someday I don’t have to woo
If not for you

If not for you
The rain wouldn’t leave the morning bright
The light wouldn’t leave the beauteous sight
Of rainbows shining through puddles and the fresh morning dew
If not for you

If not for you
I wouldn’t have to choose her too
But the game has enticed me
To play it through
Everything looks like an enhanced retrospective view
If not for you

When the waters of life are choppy
God saved you from the storm
When times are smooth sailing
God gave you friends

Is your ruthless heart brave and emboldened
Does your heart not waver, I know it flies
Birds wither in wait of your golden sun
As blithe wings should with the loveliest of white

Let's fly seas that have remained quite unseen
Air of fair clouds and sweetness of blonde curls
In my cold solace, with the warm silver face alone
Moonbeams rain! We soon make worlds of our own

How we clasp nights not meant to stay
Hope that finds ecstasy in this passage
Will soon be gone at the break of bright day
Yet, what is lost is not mourned, only bit aged

Your presence such old memories it brings
If nearer the sun, I'd melt my wax wings

Our dreams alive, in three songs
You looking to get ******, in the arms of what's going on
Touch about the reality, of the great good of the hearts of the nosegay I took a nosedive, or the opened up fire of the circle's curlicue
Hells burning and sings, and burns the throat of supernatural sordid affairs of the singed dresses, lips quiver and nape the murmurs, closer to your party girl
Listening to the parallelogram lights of nadirs on the cream drop, on the trap, ******* stint rest are we
Sleeping with the nocturne-blonde, wheelchair on the cannibal dynamo of the change looking in product elitism, sold out before they knew they were buying war
You're a bit inside, further into my ferried heart on the wheels of fire of the crossroads of the good,
The hoods out, the special affair sounds like a girl, the number of the pocket
Of the ashcans on Wednesday, so smart about your Hakagaw bows, open doors to my cellar in speakeasies and tensions
On the phone calls, in the terse rhyme sin, the sails determination of confessing our love, in the strong live in the heart of years that do not have any limitation and have no learned lessons,
See tomorrow's is the night that's alive, it's the midsummer's daydream and the midnight cauterized midriff
How do we sell it, and the trench warfare in the solidarity of the streams of dresses in steaming stowaway, maybe we good we have mister magic selling the war in a handful of stardust
Shadow rises in that pass as years go by
Shadow is a pejorative term for copies of running on hurt looks in open books of minds, we have our own wars in piled plasticine in methanol, hydrogen prologue of the helium
Time throws us into the year in the complete word that completes me, and I'm a bit nicer
I'm so lost, I'm a bit nicer
Deep sarcasm in the classroom
The winners have become bad, and no one cares about the losers
What does it mean? I'm not telling you my stories

His college years were coming to a close
Soon, he became aware of Mrs. Christian
The wife of the headmaster
A German woman with hips luxuriously hanging
Her stomach was slightly loose
But, so were her *******
Yet, she carried them with confidence

He noticed her soon enough
One day, he broke his arm on the field
Mrs. Christian brought to him his meals
Nursed him as she sat on his leg
He could feel his ******* grow
As her *** warmed on the sheets
Yet, such warmth was platonic, still

Sometime later, he stood in the corridor
She asked him to polish his shoes
As he looked down
He caught a glimpse of her cleavage
A pink robe inside, revealing itself
He realized that he had more than a fetish
It was a real fixation
He had become hooked

"You called me, Mrs. Christian."
"Ah. Yes."
"I am aware that the headmaster wished something from me."
"Yes, William."
"Er. You need something."
"Only to inform you, your education is complete."
They turned up the music and waltzed.

Her pink robe, after being removed, was skimpier than he had first thought
Yet, he carefully considered if the tuition included this
He didn't mind her teaching hands too much
As he tried very hard to arouse her purple lips with his hands
Growing impatient, she took her tumescence
And pushed into it, expertly
It was as if the rain had poured for years, unseen by closed eyes

"William. You make me feel."
"Like a woman?"
"No. Just aroused as hell."
"I guess this is ***."
"No. This is art."
"Art is feeling?"
"Touch my heart. You have."

Some places
Are diamond
In the lightning of the storm
My boat is hijacked
God won't leave me alone
Some waves give me hard times
The hail leaves a chill in my bones
My memory is awash
By the storm that came from North

Feathered wing
Why Do you
Sail away into the night?

'Cause you're meant to
Sail into love
Sail into heights
Sail into the ocean
Of The Breeze

Whisper like the calm chirping
Of The Birds
Off With the heads of the seas
With Poseidon of
Godly wrinkled waters
That made his gelid cheeks
Of sorrow...
Of a human disguise
So sorrowful
Unspoken
Begotten
By The din

Singin with skipping beats
Playing the same seats
He was done with rustic Lyric
With the growling guitar
"Rusty" leaning by your
Guitar for a change
CHange turning
To your soul
With the grunge
Of Nirvana
ANyone who read this I appreciate
My followers
Greatly
#Good
#With
#Poetry

Hey Hey Hey
Yip Yip Yoo
True and dare
To go through the place in the zoomed outland
The mumble is bad I can tell
Someone wants to write cheap music
I can tell
There is ****** in the air
And flippancy will end my misery very soon.

Bob Dylan said in an interview
For the 1970 intentionally underwhelming album Self Portrait
That people need leaders more than the reverse point of view
And so do you
So get off the government’s property
Or they’ll rig the functioning of the military and bring the full force on you

Follow your leaders
Because with your political views
They think you’re blind people who can’t see the crowd
And are simply fireplace thinkers
But what about the people who have a bonfire which they share with heart
Instead of having a hearth
Get off the government’s property
Run from place to place and observe propriety for a start

To them we say go get a job
To clean our urbane streets
But they hope they don’t have to rob
Or get owned or robbed
So get off the government’s property
Or they’ll own you literally and party members will get you mobbed

They lay claim on all the money
Making everything taxable instead of free
For the poor who don’t even enter a tax bracket
And always lie and beg on the streets and cause a blissfully ignored racket
So please get off the government’s property
While we enjoy your money as you stay off the stock market

The girl caught in the wire
Knows the right way and shows fiery pride
Instead, of taking the sunshine and more
Clasping the delicate rays with her parched palms

Leaving desolate prisoners inside
A dark day made only of steel cages
They will let in the light, those lying in the shadow
It's blazing outside, it is bright

Cold waters will calm, then turn the tide
Soon the cursed world will die
Women can see the sun when it swallows the earth
It is a ball of hope saving them from guns and guards

Their dreams will turn to ashes
Mothers with empty wombs love them just the same
To them their daughters haven't seen the rain
The sun grins from behind grey clouds and sighs

Soon, freedom will come within their reach, fast
And these daughters will get stuck deeper
The dream slips faster than sand in an hourglass
They deserve love from the depths of hell itself

Until one of them dies by the bullet or ****** disease
They don't belong to them, do they?
These pigs moan if their houses are made of gold
The white men want oil fields with them working