Bring in me
firetruck
what you could not
in a dumpster baby
child
born
on
a
wednesday

in the sun

it hurted the mummsy,
she cryed

I once saw a whale
eating a preying mantis
whole
as it chewed
I swooned
clearing my throte
and loosing a mating call
to the wind

it blew away
just like your sweet rememberance

Templeton chaser
green eyed prayers
blink rebellion

i see your plans

Choose wisely
blloo

keep up the goodness
work
bring in more
let in more

purple panda bears laugh in the trees
they see all
and hear less than is normal
because their ears are so small
for their massive heads

they’re, like, really tiny
in comparison
to the surface area of their cranium
which is big

A
wider
man
shifts
his
trousers
for
a
more
comfortable
crotch

Cartographically speaking,
I wasn't even on your radar.

I was nothing more
than a male pelvis
and a pair of lips,
with eyes on your *******.

I managed to charm you, however.
My sweet promises
of cold spaghetti for dinner
must have gotten you
all sorts of moist.

Granted I was out of practice.
My house tour
seemed a pretty fly way
of getting into your pants...           at the time.

But hey,
It worked
didn't it?

I stand alone, a loner I am thinking I am a loner
completely I stand still,
totally alone I think I am,
except for tree.

I like tree.

Watching this Tree;
I see it:
the leaves are green,
the bark is greyish-brown kind of with a little lighter brownish
junk. A single leaf flutters
down to the ground place
like the little moth in Lord of the Rings.
I like that movie.

The little leaf touches the ground
without a sound it goes “pfff”
I am sad inside my mind brain
not knowing why it did
this.

Oh well.

It doesn’t matter.

The beauty of the tree is not lost, however
it remains within me all of the day.
Beauty that cannot be broken,
cannot be remade,
cannot be undone.
I do like tree.

The first glint of your existence,
like the creation of a star,
is the shimmering hope on my path.

Guiding me home;
a stoic guardian
amidst the terrors of the night.

Lo! A greater foe lights anew!
It shines upon your mighty steel.
The striking spark of light on your armor.

The battle does not last long,
and you are defeated by dawn’s sword
breaking over the horizon.

A shadow becomes your prison.

You, brave street lamp
are cast away at the dawn
into somnolence each day.

I am accustomed to your safety,
and I do not easily part with thee.
Yet, I know you will live
to reign over night once more.

“In my opinion,” good advice is nothing,
except bad habits and malnourished dreams.

A syphon of learning,
experience,
and reason.

So, please.
Take my heart to your guillotine of hate
and chop off a chunk of grace from my life.

“Did he really mean that?”
“I knew it.”

Unless you want to hear the truth,
Which no one does.

Go on.
Push your bad habits
on to someone else.
Some may call it good advice.
I call it alienation of individuality.
Arcane knowledge of the mind with one’s consent.

To those seeking this knowledge:
You don’t want to hear this.
Create
your
own
personal
truth.

“Is that enough advice?”