been pecking the pole since the forties

we think,

how delightful.



yet it must be changed and moved

in case it falls down, what would we

do then?  he asked.



i decided not to think about that, and

rejoice in the creosote

of the new thing.



may be the woodpecker will

too?



sbm.

When the sun and the moon
Collide in the sky
When blood drops,
Are the only tears I cry
When snow flakes
Fall in the middle of June
When the sound of silence
Remains the only tune
When the fish sprout wings
And fly from the sea
When the only thing standing
Are petrified trees
When the sky loses its color
And is no longer blue
That, my sweet, is when
I'll stop loving you

Middle of the hourly awakening
I'm tired, can't sleep
But the hazelnut coffee
Sounds so good.
Even if I can't go
Back to sleep
And my poetrys misunderstood! It's all good,
My eyes will at least be partially open
When my body starts to lag
Because of the hazelnuts high
The good taste for a minutes grab.

Anger builds, like a fire
Neglected flames only grow higher
In the heart, the intention burns
Making smoke with dark concerns
Undulating through and through
Scorching only, the inside of you

The lifestyle of crime
Is no way to get by
Living the high life
Is fun for its while.

But in the end
It casts betrayers as friends.
Benedict arnold's with grins.
Happily they pretend
As your sitting in a hole
Of your own filth.

Watch for the dudes
Who call moms (****).
Watch for the girls
Who think makeup makes up
Themselves.

The lifestyle of shame
Just leads to more guilt.
Not relieving yourself.
But imprisoning by the
Weight.

Life's about decisions
The crime of self we can escape.
Though our minds are in constant state of ****
From mainstream society.

Though will you follow mainstream?
Reality?
Or imaginative beliefs?

The difference between the three
Decides your fate.
Change now
While Its not to late.

Red rivers flow through
Black and blue corrupt our hearts
Slowly perishing.

Thanks for looking at me
Even though it didn't last
Your memory I'll cherish
Til the day I turn to dust.

What goes best with some spicy salsa? Hot poetry.

Pitter patter, my eyes are getting sleepy. Think a good sleep will do, why am I writing. Why am I awake? I think this brains sleepwalking for me. Jake's not even here. Or is he? Ive passed the sleep stage. I've entered\zombie mode. Maybe I'm a zombie. But if im a zombie, why do I want funyuns, don't zombies like blood thirsting things, like chicken or turkey.

If you have never written any poetry I suggest you do, pick up
A pen\ write your heart out.\ no need to be some bad or awesome writer, you don't need to be some fantastic novelist. What you speak is what you express, and what you express is part of your being, so let the being inside you speak.
That's poetry!

I don't do drug's, I am drug's-





Salvadore dali quote......

Wish I could be a spaceman sometimes
Just to leave planet earth