The world is full of fools’ theory
Listening to them I feel weary.
Such egoistic heads tell not to worry
And at our back talk oscillatory
Bad about us, creating a crematory
Where they bury their own glory.
They have a bad attitude of sanatory
Coward, showy, deceitful, predatory.

The world is full of fools’ theory
Listening to them I feel weary.
I too had such a mad hoary
Who was ready with an itinerary,
Where all bad & deceit come corollary
As she had a base habit of obfuscatory.
She knew less concepts contemporary
And thought herself vital primary.

The world is full of fools’ theory
Listening to them I feel weary.
Would always ask if I hunky-dory?
We knew those emotions were vapory –
Happy, then sad, angry then nugatory!
Her emotions changed as witch’s allegory,
Hate, spurn, prune are her favourite mandatory:  
Now singly fights with colleagues hortatory;
Alas! Does not know her faults & category.

Listening to them I feel weary.
Would always ask if hunky-dory?
At first I tried to be a promontory
So that I can save her crematory;
Blind with pride, less corroboratory,
She spurned me having derogatory.
Now also I pity her as she is a hoary
But wish she improves her oratory.

Our encounter begins, O glass of amber,
With your trembling surface inviting my lips,
your glass's simple flare; I may be no gambler,
But I see you quake as glass meets fingertips,
And you're not all sweetness - you'll change my timbre
Certainly enough - my gentle grip you nearly slip
As I survey your amber surface, raising you
Just high enough to sample from your bitter dew.

I cannot begin to wonder just how long
We've spent embracing each other, all wrapped up
And tangled together - I see I belong
To you as much as you to me - in my cups,
That desperate, furtive hunger spins a song
From my whispers: the way you've bound me up,
The way you draw me down, your bite on my tongue:
Your every breath invades me, fills my lungs.

In our time, we'll grind each other down to dust
Dissolving in that weary, seething flavor
Shot through every lingering of lips; I trust
My temperance will tire you - still, let's savor
These summer days, their mists ensuring the rust
Which withers us to nothing - In all, I favor
You against my lips, your fire dispelling cool:
In reason, in temperance, I turn the fool.

we've been perched on the hot seat
from this weather there's no retreat
a week of the sun pouring scorn
no wonder we're feeling so worn
day break confirms more of its beat

reprieve not coming to the pleat
air temps truly stifling of bleat
they're so draining our seared corn
we've been perched on the hot seat

summers not being a pleasant treat
consistent the burn of defeat
far too much of it did adorn
we await a cooler fall morn
to breeze in with a notice neat
we've been perched on the hot seat

There’s a knot in my stomach, can’t tell if if Rylee gave me the flu or I’m missing you.
Reminiscing about that perfect room.
Me seeing my mom standing next to you.
Healed things I have yet to live through.
Before I even prayed for an angel the Lord assigned me two.
Happiness is hard to find, with you I’ve found myself.
Love truly makes you blind, I don’t see no one else.
You say I’m not ugly, and that may be true.
But that’s how I feel when I stand next to you.
Have you seen you? it’s like you’re from a mystical source.
Your are my prayers in physical form.
You always drink to much but I was seriously scared last night.
But the lemons into lemonade is I realized i wanted to take care of you for the rest of my life.

breaking blue hue
presides o'er the bush to-day
breaking blue hue
all plots of azure retinue
adorning brightly in array
a perfect color to display
breaking blue hue

tall afternoon shadows were cast
all giants of mast
across the block*
height's soaring stock

stretching from fence-post to fence-post
many feet in host
the tip flies big
a great lofty sprig

trees towering like skyscrapers
high of tapers
late eve's lanky stalks
*lie on ground walks