The city lights look beautiful today
The setting seems right
That this very day
I would meet my nemesis
On these last hours of

My arrival has been expected
I'm a stranger to myself
I'm your worst nightmare
I am your lucid dream

Seizing the city lights by their electricity
I'm the light of your days
I live within those shadows you avoid
I live in the souls devoid
I am today

The one your terrible fears turned into reality
I'm the work that you do
I'm the food you eat
I'm on your mind all time
Even when I'm away from all this talk of pennies and dimes

The city lights break evenly
I'm your motivation
Why are you so scared of me dear
I'm right there beside thee
Beside your hurried motion

Hiding in the scenery
Because time is an illusion
You can be in the look for better things
Friends leave you
Enemies make you their pre-occupation

But, when the curtain calls
There is no one answer
Because you worked in the theatre
And my worst rival didn't have a job
I gave him mine

Today
I prayed for the enemy
I hope he is better for everybody
You know why
Because if he were me
If he knew the love we shared

The kisses that I lost
The love and the lust
Your affection
My nostalgia
You were the love I once

My lost love
How does the light of the sunshine
Rest on those beautiful shoulders under the pale pallor of pleasant Pulchritude
I found my bliss amongst the stars of solitude
Solitude is a dear devotion
It enraptures a crowd
It needs a loud rabble
A commotion
To make it more pleasant

I love silence
For it can drive out my inner desires
For company
My friends
My girlfriends
Come from the same bookends
Bookmarks which we call destiny
As old conversation of the curtain on the cusp of her miens
She stares outside the window shyly
Her name lovely as the summer breeze
She feels her nerves pulsating
Letting lips quiver slightly
Her lover touches her *****
Slyly caressing his neck against her chin
His shin rather pleasant placed against her skin
He takes his pants off
Kisses her while she laughs
Her gelid calm brings a look of icy green
This Greecian God is gonna live forever
His princess is gonna love him
For his good nature
THoughts remain supple
******* remain a whisper
Her spirited ride against his saddle
She often straddles him with her bare buttocks
Safe to say they've had large assets for the sensuous love-making
This is a scene of serenity
For most with a love for dignity
He gently comes
As love whispers
"I love you"
Love was my enemy

The starlight like a wind races to cover the sky
Spilling the sands of time into the oceanic blue tides
When the moon comes to bring the inside of a bellied whale to shore
The ocean, crystalline, dazzles in the greatness of such lore
Almost as if a dream of nerves less and muscles more

It's scalding
Souped up in a hanging *** in some far off veranda
Overseeing the noisy place it was an experiment
Arriving at the ruckus, the stranger looked at me
Spit at the ground, dusk's dustiness rose
Petrichor in my pin-up poster of India never seemed this incredibly serene
Leveling the looks with mine, the chaotic nostalgia reminded
Mirages in the air spoke beyond illusions that were an object of rumination
Arriving at the same destination in my book store, the freedom was real
The era was good, but, the biryani seemed tasteless
The bibulous raucous youth all gathered for the food
Majorities didn't like a big difference to us
We were ill-represented in the World too, and other similar instances
We'll not find a more familiar land where we can progress
Rejecting accusations and present in the excess of this universe
Freedom seems like too much responsibility

There is nothing between us
Since we are
Together, forever

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

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

Making a good poet out of myself in a cheap apartment isn't something I have got planned for myself. Being sobered up to the reality of being an artist, I am aware that a legacy doesn't await me. Stuck in the middle of several choices, I choose the right ones. Only a calmness regarding the endearing moments of life will stay with me after I leave. People will want heartbreak and entertainment years after I'm gone. My story will not provide a catharsis or any form of solace.

Probably, because my story offers cold comforts for one's drug-addled fantasy. The next time I'm in love, depression, and a mess, I will not be writing for the money. I can assure you a deep satisfaction that follows reading my work. I can promise this because I remain disenchanted with my lines.

Intoxicated by
Aged, wooden feelings
Of yesterday's
Faults

A heart needs a beat
And heartbeat needs
A word of life called God

This wave of peace
Tells me you can't
Bring them on their knees

All of the differences
Effects of the past
You still make sense to my mind

The celebration of a person
You are the breath in my existence
There is a refreshing feeling of the exosphere exodus

I over 10 feet of the ground
With my pride in my pocket
And my cap snapped back

Nobody knows what
I feel inside
Because it is a pool of memories
Too deep to swim in
Beyond consolation

Nobody knows the
Pain I deal with daily
Its like a card game I'm addicted to
And a losing one played by fools
Beyond encouragement

Nobody knows the hurt
I carry with me
Its a glass pane that has shattered
And the broken edges have carved out a piece of me
Beyond recognition

Nobody knows the regret
I pull like dead weight
Its as heavy as the sky on earth
It is always hovering over my head
Beyond reconciliation

Such is isolation
Inescapable
Complete.

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

Flowers, diaries on the shelves
I wonder if they still are worth my while
Flowers, diaries on the shelves
The leaves that have gone dry by sitting there

Crisp under my feet
Amidst the thatch and thicket of words
Overhead the images of her lurk
In the pages of my diary now begging for a lover

Flowers in the bright fluorescence of eclipses tonight
Clasping the sunset, hoping the light never dies
As aging does to a venerable man
Shall my heart be left without a captain?

The pages have dust settled in them
Much like the crusted windows of a dingy inn
I had more than a crush by my teenage years
I was a victim once, until I let go of my fears

All my life's a stage, but I've played my part
Moaning the conviction I lacked from the start
Flowers, diaries on the shelves caked in dust
All that is alive tonight is the lust

I can't fight
But I seem to grind
The keyboard
Telekinetically
Speaking

Destruction
Kept me alive
In Jesus' resurrection
After Friday

Flowers in the spring
Jumping
Is an action
Of my mind's scene
Beauty is subjective
In the beginning
Not when it's love at first sight
In the brightest day
And the darkest nights
Shared in the evenings
Understood
That it's for each other
That love brings you
Hither
To angel's without feather
But love's a surrealistic pillow
As the romance billows
The moon above
The sky
Shone
From above
A heaven's godsend
A love i can't afford
Regarding which I can pretend
Understood that this is the end
To a journey longer
Than the peripatetic
feeling
A feeling stays
After the path comes to close
So I guess we end with roses
On the casket
But I'd rather be buried next to you
Rather than be alone
And alive
In all the same
Either way
Alone the crosswinds

Arguments leave only heavy hearts
As the heavy clouds create the most beautiful storms
The flower of youth is the most beautiful
Because it blooms and takes away your innocence

A boy blurts out something
It really isn't demeaning
But it is worth contemplating
An awkward pause
Thoughts linger
Uncertain of cause
Until cold silence leaves
Bringing warmth in the beginning
And talk of love ensues
Whilst loving, I’m still charming you

You kept me out
Of the scenery
Of living
with strangers
Since I was a stranger to myself
In the garden of bougainvilleas
And Begonias
Which shouldn't have been
Together
But, my lover
You kept them at peace
With each other
Like touching the mimosa
Never felt safer

The crazy thing about love is the journey is the pilgrimage
In the end, there is a marriage that I don't wanna stay in
By the time we understand love, the crosses have become longer
Like stars winking at each other kinda cross-eyed
And the marriages become shorter, and good luck is gone in crucibles
Weren't we younger, with the raucous youthful silence looks absurd
Clause and far away ideals, all written in the recorded book of timeless riffs
Creases of grassy lights and trees hang like winging towns in this transitory town that moves to-and-fro
Impotent I feel in this imperfection, everything seems perfect
You completed me at aphrodisiac and took my power for greedily granted festering wars
Feeding the Chordata of moloch, genome hanging like graceless grades of the college dropout from faceless despair of learning biology
Becoming a named politician following the murmur of rosy beads and green grass, ****** out on a frenzied Friday good for another year

Smile like the pale moon
It illuminates the night
Even better than the sun

Be an ocean of knowledge
Be calm on the surface
Create waves when a storm approaches

Rope to ***** the weather, sweet sixteen dreams
The mirror tells we can have some fun in teams
I can't find my reflection anymore, searching in eloped reconnaissance streams
Lassoes in the sky, stealing cars under the starlight standing in strong dreams
Another day in paradise, looking better in paraplegic purging preteens
The electric fuzz on your face touches my standing goosebumps gleam at the ****** seams
Bumblepuppy acolyte turning at the prongs of the tattered road, calling up your Hessian friend and making politics right at the sanguineous pea-brain lean veal after the mob gets out on Russian ruby streets running with honesty
On the other side of the world, where the sun sets and polite moonrock never survive on The Berlin Wall tonight abseiling away sealed away, waiting for the ballot or the ballet
Waiting for the limelight to subside, guts tellin' me to keep my self in lowly mad hatters tied to napes, hundreds hanging by weather reports claps in laughter, descending tents by the brook beaming at us in starry dynamo of the thousands
Losing himself in a lucid dream of what was once the world's reality now sleeping, dead presidents in stygian darkness
Hanging on to the word of the weatherman, crime is rising in Russian motherless children hung for misdemeanor looking for a metaphor, the nation understands and wants to know us
Ukraine leave us from the 1990s, too late the third stone from the sun has taken three turns, we are at the trapdoor
Resurrecting the insurrection, pejorative for misnomers and draconian dead beats sibilant suss
Too bad I see the whole earth, on my body stains on laconic red flags, still fly indeed
Flying in the wind, like idiots in the weatherman's underground cuss dirt into the report sowing dead seeds
Unable to see the sun behind cold clouds in stormy weather, battered suitcases breeze by murmurs talking by-lines and stolen **** in ****** underwear ****** unable to breed
Then, the bombs falling and shifting with changeling wind charred sun under the unbeing reading in the Aurelius light
Thousands in the starry dynamo might outshine us all and the nation can't hold us back and keep us far from the fault in stars
The silver lining in the cloud, puerile virile as lady lying Glasnost to the prognostic benzedrine patient
I've never seen a can in hang in stormy weather
Charting out the Chinaman on the hydrogen shore, communism is on the brink of helium war with itself, viscerally hanging from Tomorrow's daughter
Whipping up the foamy sea like cold ice nostrums thawed in search of the antidote to warm red planets named after Roman Gods
Looks like the sea lord created a thalassocracy for the sea cursed by memos and pastiche, droll parody in the mewling hall of the rebuke of free-prose poetry hanging on the tinkering lampshade
Touch me now, never or now bullish books read the list of people who were once on this winding road just like us shining crummy ******* now in a handful of stardust
Being is tougher than living, and the berserk wind keeps changing
Under forked lightning, it gets worse when the spoon picks me up
In my wet dreams, I'm killing myself hurting to find if you can put your mind to this cornish dream of Cavendish and hashish
Stuck in the stitches, and the ******* don't drip blood and sweat it
Ukraine leave us from the 1990s, too late the third stone from the sun has taken three turns already
Murders on the mystery train, never reach the orient station looking for a whimsical refill
Halting sloth the indolent, I remember redolently like moth attracting to the blazing coruscating gleam, that's when a screaming teen becomes an upstart or a fiend
With an iridescent grin, caviling on the shore asking more from jackknifed business kitsch photos of the crosses
Throwing them in the trash, just like that
Ire of the nation broken with the lugubrious sleep of dinners after the summer's madness, hurt by the locked hearts in an armed madhouse looking at everything like geniuses
Asking what does it mean? Motifs and everything, lintels on the fluorescent signs on numinous streets caressing our wires, hanging by the piano wire
Waning adolescence now has a name in Hades' beard made of fiery pubescence that doesn't wanna listen
Tantamount to the king's orders, ligature marks on the hands that only know cuffs
The que glibly glistens in the lively dungeon
Hosted by bacchanal and mistresses, Elizabeth Bathory in the company of friendly books full of picturesque pedestrians on the streets of angry murders with ****** sleeved shirts
Blackened lackeys looking for a toss of change or pederasty with Countess Dracula
Moloch, you have made my life changeable despite skiffs
Moloch, I hang in the balance of the skirmishes of scorching fire burning at the midriffs
Easter bloc, ropes hanging for whoever doesn't wanna burn in the witch fire, sold for 200 pounds in a dilapidated home, till the berserk wind blows the candle out, old under Tudors that say a lot in a few words about style in art as slavery is merrily rampant
Killing the people, in the name of the republic of 1968 reminiscent of Phoenician Lands, rueful murmurs arouse the twisted looks turning out the traitors
From the rapidly changing wind, that brushes our hair and kills the pain of hanging to our families in bunkers
From the road of hope, I find some affliction in the forgiveness
Of my lord in whom I find breadth, heareth, endeth the breath that lendeth thy will, in the lengths of my souls searching for horizons in Old Earth
I died with my elegy in 1968, the wind still hoists flags in my name in death three years in the latter

The light will still be with you
When you read into the rustling reeds
The darkness of the ocean will drown out the reflection
There are plenty of fish in the sea

The tiger reaches
Through
Peaceful forests
The tigers the end of his jumble
With a peaceful grumble
In his stomach
Stumbled upon a dead tree
Under which a river
Had the reflection of
A deer's face
Later, I on the other side
On the side of the river
Found that the tiger was
Just leaving the forest
Without any way
Bright eyes of the night
Dangerous by the day
Looking for prey within sight
We were just left with a burning
Forests
Forests foraging thoroughly
For a way to reflect
In a time without water and trees
The forests turn to dirt
And man's resources to greed

Well, I wake up
To the morning with dogs
Around my socks
Your mom is breaking the window locks

To let out the monkey from the zoo
In the afternoon
They are replacing it with a parrot that talks

So it doesn't fly out of here too
Come into my house
Ask for a flaming hot pie
The kitchen will delight the animals
You ask,"Who else lives here too?"

Life
I was selling for my life
That was now possessed by a need
To have
Not want
Like boats meant for other waters
Not meant to be
Except to stay afloat
I made a living
Out of no home

Fall down in my puddle of love
Child I love my life,
Pray child, can I get my ghoul back from the Tokyo, tonight’s a dream
Dreaming little ‘bout you, you know I would seen it coming
Did you see what Hades did to her with forked lighting?
Ending slowly on the second coming. They conversed with the beginning of military time.
The time left a little unresolved.
Where it falls out, I die.

For future foresight
You need philosophy
For short term analysis
You need mathematics
As he future being an object of fear in our premise
We base our notions on falsities
Perhaps, we fear the truth
Or we fear what the truth is behind all the mumbo jumbo
Understanding these things
We can say that from our roles as human beings
To accept the truth
Is to create the story of our lives
Unedited, original and unforgiving to the real version
Let us write our own life in water colors
Let us paint the sky with our skin
The skin will be tainted with golden fire
And our life will be a mere reflection of the heights of achievement
Let us embody our work, as poets

Primes and primary numbers
Make my patterns right
Teach me how to make the connections between equations
Time and tide wait for no one
Someone, please ask them what is one
Changing or creating, adjusting to your useless feeble-self
You can still take on those hurricanes, with experience
Time and tide wait for those who are laying in desperation
Waiting to be washed ashore
Like the immigrants, clicking their feet like the opportunity
And door-knobs, ringing like hallowed bells
Telling us the door is open for those with want
Series of bottles washed over, like island telegrams
College applications for the college dropout, looking for the corpus of his master's oeuvre
It's on the top shelf. You're working for wages crossing bus-stands with city-light colleges
Crowded and make some noise, coherent with crime

Fire that's the
The valley
Of many
years
Still a vacancy
For mornings
Signifying the courage
Of braving the cold
Sages
Sit behind
It
For pages
Making mirages
Escaping Souls,
From the gaping
Hole
Of the spiritual note
Come together
Like you and me
Believing inwardly
About our goals
I realized
My feet
Can't be on
Two lands
I can't belong to
Two countries
Oft' valleys
May merge
But one
Mountain will
Always have it's peak
Don't you think

The way you laugh tonight
Is melodious as the birds singing
The way you smile tonight
Pulls me towards you like the moon to the tide

Your ways are magic in their own right
I slip into daydreams and burn in my desires

Coast to coast
The more you come to town tasting of a strange brew
You leave the train station in downtown Arkansas, dreamin' of America
The more you can fiend your way alone, friends to toast with
Moksha attained, I'm going off to Mars looking for enlightenment
My space is booked and the coast looks like a sea seldom touched
Kinda like blue midnight in Martian space, riding in a summer car
Shining lady fickle
Makes a good pickle
I want a taste of your sickly sour
Coal from the coast, take my life on your jungle groove
In heeps of trolley's, trollops in the shiny diamond cars
Diamond shining in the hustled season, unknowing of what's charging past marching mayflowers
Today's dills in summer taken in chrome horses hanging out in grander pernicious places, we could steal and thieve from petty complaisant men

I might go out, clumsy as a palace on wheels
Appreciative of the placing animated expressive
Nature of your breathless, that just makes me die with a smile
Happy with his belonging, peace is his song
Dancing with the longing, the longer you wait for you dance
Dance away, without my words to guide you through cloud alphabets
Spanish palhabra, luminous limerick
Chinchin, chinchilla, minutes in Piccadilly
Square for a hamster on the turning of the changing wheels
Changing squares, and townships travel in a couple of quarrelsome
Steps of a poet, little honest about the footprints mistook for shirking persevering people

Before perfidy of rhyme wears out
Quit blaming your governments
Get them weary with a shout

I walked into the door
A writer
Came out a poet, sleeping on the side
I'd pay someone to write down my soul
Burning out, kneeling on the midnight lamp

Burning the oil, writing my life out and away
Shall I walk in again, maybe not but I walk out of life I'm ******* dead
But, the typewriter doesn't change the words
I do, forgetting half the time that the night's right
With that hourly hand, my words live when midnight strikes
Dancing in the dark like a still-born child that don't see, jiving blindly


She lays sleeping on the side, will I stay on your side unwillingly within the crowdy picture that doesn't see you either
Or imagination keeps running away, holds on to the willful calls buying the scenery in the blink of an eye looking for a good girl
He says the midnight burns you before the truth dawns over you

Shining in the crazy echoes of looking back through mirrors in the passion and love we talk about, watching our gay silence simply sitting and staring into kiosks
Lifeless staring into the distance will not get you the vision of peace, or a simple life of kissing the love of your life away

Love you better, if you could murmur a catatonic piano and write the sterling cheque for the wordsmith
I walked into the door, for the sights
As a writer, I told the poet I wait for the words alright

Burning out, kneeling over the midnight lamp waiting to live another through another marriage of words
That's when the words softly echo with the breaths feeling heavier in my blood
Asking for another book, like a divorcee likes a half-written will

You’ve had a busy day
Had people call you names if they may
Call your name in the name of terrorism and in vain
Who’s gonna bless you after all the blasphemy falls like acid rain
You’re the only one to the explanation of all of it
Takes a long time to find the meaning and know how to sacrifice for it
To find a student to share your troubles
Take me up or down with you I’d jokingly hand a fee of roubles
That’s a crack at the USA
Pardon but I want this to be a story of desperate divination rather than an esoteric essay
Up or down I’ve made my mistakes of working the ladder of success and standing tall
At least I’m not guilty of escapism and have no chance of falling if I have the promise of having your all
Instead just having you
Bafflingly I do not know what you are too
But in this reality if I did I suppose everyone would get at your personal struggles
Dissecting your tangible personality as you try mastering on a daily secondly basis all the cosmic juggles
However if I have no place in your midst
I’ll wonder how could thou do what thy didst
And I shall separate myself from your promised love and make devotion a safe haven for me
Rather than keeping an eye out for the messenger raven keeping eye on my actions for thee
You show love by watching over me
But sometimes I feel you watch only because you are
But if you feel a faithful singularity you wouldn’t reincarnate me too far
Unless that’s not what you do
But I wouldn’t count on anything more mystical than death itself
From an entity who didn’t create a utopia for himself
Because I know you work hard
But we humans with false ideas of utopia cause you to ******
So please bless peace because it’s the ideal I believe in
And a surrounding around which society can adhere to instead of still being called a hyperbole of an ideal society called utopia to which it is akin

The breathing of our bodies
I hear your skin dripping with sweat
In your whispers, I hear the clearest eddies
You seem unsteady

You write your name on my lips
The softest kisses come in spring when
The ground is wet with rain and mist
You seem ready

Of the road that had been left in haste
I was glad that my soul stayed the course
As the winter and my speeches never would
I never had been frost-bit by cold stares
O', the heat of glares unnerved me weary
I was hardly visible amidst trying times
The climes brought the dreary snow and many crucibles

It was the fire that melted the flakes
I distinguished myself from fakes
I know all that quakes
In my soul that takes less
As it gives away to the lakes
Of warm water as summer finally comes

A lion's pride
A lioness' prize
Everyone hunts for pride
What are you gonna do?

Diving in the bluest parts of the sea
Cerulean hue escapes the underwater serried scenery
Under pulverizing rains and thunderbolts stimulated by God's solitary hand
The sea takes on colorful countenance as it strokes the grains of foreign sand
Rambunctiously rising against the randomness of these tawny lands
Almost turgid and ****** in its flow
The waves of bliss call out a raspy roar
As the sweltering hot water laps against the sensual shores
Timelessly
Salty and foamy water cupping the ******* of the salting
Sun's about to snore
The tides will come once more

Looking through the rain
I saw the skies cloudier
Rather than grey
Guess I was wearing sunglasses

Do you want to bloom on the mud?
Or have it easier on the ocean?
You will regret being on the surface
You can grow with me in marshes

I'll let you stay with me
He just wants to keep you
He'll touch you when he wants
I'll catch you when you fall

I know the guy, he'll never take you back
I can never let you leave, that's what I lack

The trains pass
Me By
Faster when stuck in Reverse
Relativity I Guess
The car's seem slower
When I look at the Moon
And its craters
Thinking about the creator
My prayer is heeded
At first
Glance

Toasted nuts, marshmallows roasted and half-eaten
Half-smoked cigarettes, edges of burnt letters
All notions romantic are consumed by fire
The embers of a fireplace have enveloped it

Yet, the sweetness of your lips
Alerts my innermost desires
Every time- like sunsets in a solitary sky
Your light luminesces the cold caves of time

A machinist
Breaking his parts
Bringing his art
In lintel print

Simply said
These times
A Reaper revels
Inadvertently
Inured
By his responsibilities
Hating the soul
Keeping the ghouls
Wandering
The conditions of past life
Kept my love
Out of sight
But in my mind
There is the over head
Bird
That I called the soul
The soul sore by the war
Harbinger
Of War
Perched

Keep the money
Of my soul
A Tamashi Currency

Light as a feather, I'll make it through stormy breaths
Hurricans, and peaks that are high, I can pertinently relate
The pretending to make haste from the already broken place
Landing up in edifices of emotions and eyes that are windows, now looking like hunger

The white flowers poured their color
Into the flowing seas
As I poured my soul endlessly
Into the streams of still water

The medley of the rain speaks to me
In its crystal droplets and clear pitter-patter
It tells me that she needs no another
So, I hold back my tears

I tell myself some other day
If I write and write again
About the sadness of the rain
Time will wash away her beautiful face

Live is lonesome
Even if you choose live
With or
without soulmates

At the beggar's banquet
There are two kinds of worker bees
One in the blows of the breathless insects
With pollen for keeping, and the food they cannot respect
But, the honey lingers like the sweet
The lingering smell
Of the dew
Of a thousand years kept in a hidden hive
Imaginatively, the prey to the work was just canonical
And I worked really hard for my canines
And the square of that lines up with the 6 sides of a cell
Of nine lives
Like a cat curious enough to shake the hornet's nest, three times

The flame holds to a candle
Like soil holds
Your identity in your country
Firing up your soul
Shooting beckons the onset of
Unwanted killing
Away from life's state
Faraway cries
A fatal fire that is bluer
Something solar and soulful
Stars like, the sun
Come once in a lifetime
Lightyears away
Keeping us in the dark
Of the Universe quarks
Make
Our
Path