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Sometimes I forget that I'm the owner of my body
and I'm not just housesitting until the person whose home it really is gets back from vacation.

Thankfully whoever lives here always leaves me a roster that includes a list of the people in her life
so I don't embarrass her with my social ignorance.

Yesterday, she left me with the person she had labeled as "boyfriend" in her reference contact list.
And even though I didn't recognize him as mine,
when I stole glances for intel purposes,
I felt this surge of emotion
like she had left the electricity running in the room she dedicated to him.
i can taste your lips
when we share a kiss
i feel your breath
and watch you
when we share a kiss
i hear your heart
stop beating
i can smell
you get excited
when we share a kiss

should i ever be left senseles
i will never ever miss
everything we ever had
when we shared that kiss

my mind will form a picture
of the lips that i shall miss
the touch of gentle sweetness
of when we shared a kiss

forever will i savor
the way your breath did slip
the gentle cherry flavour
that did linger on your lips

my mind will also linger
on the sight of your blue eyes
wide open as i kissed them
the silent whisper of your sighs

should i be rendered senseless
i will never ever miss
everything we ever shared
when we first shared a kiss
dying and living in a pantheon
~


a dusty storage place
for basement keepsakes,
somewhere out back,
full of emeritus stocking stuffers,
an ex-trendy,
royalty-dethroned room

where kept
ancient scriveners,
last year's flash frozen princesses and
plastic wrapped scribes,
cloud stored,
on soft decaying hard drives

prior renters, leases unrenewed,
now pushed aside,
upcoming upstanding upstarts,
looking to trade up,
let bigger quarters,
an existential reminder,
that in the word game,
no perm-press recognition,
in today's poetry biz,
it's what ya done lately

deaf dumb blind,
unsung former idols,
talk to mirrors
that no longer answer,
dial 1-800-pantheon,  
sorry, number no longer in service,
so you voyageur-visit
the other side of Styx,
a bluff overlooking
a body's work,
where glory fleeting
comes to rest,
where time judges well,
partiality impartial,
selects thy best

author an audience of sole one
that be more than
good and plenty,
a heaping teaspoon of sufficient,
glance back at discarded, outdated maps,
glory may transit
but satisfaction eternal,
when you read the old writes thinking
****, did I write this?
"Yes," answers a creased smile
cracking crusted lips

~~~~~

then blood of pride and satisfy, rejuvenates

chest warms, heart thumps,
quill beckons, tablet charges - jot hot

write for whom the bell tolls,
knowing full well
this raucous bell tolls for thee,
you re-become an
irrational ill-defined room possessed

heat,
this realized, fevered and fervent, physical pleasure,
sensory gladness,
the fat fullness of creation,
flooded breathable sunlight,
stormy uncalming indigo waters,
a natural disquietude beckons,
arousal of an old-friend welcoming

this encompassing emotion,
no-direction-known fearful commotion,
your mind, all skin,
tissues enflamed,
your ears speak,
your tongue listens,
five senses unified in
disheartened happy discordant perfection,
this you recognize,
this familiar,
is not a storage place
this, your true everlasting pantheon


glory glory - expel thy word works,

*the burnishing of fain fame
is not walled jailed,
but in-deed
actionable and transitory best honored,
peaks of mountainous-emotions, homeland, motherland,
recording, recoding in words-vision notions,
this is the one,
the inky clarity pantheon place
of the living poet
Fire is in his eyes, in the pit of his belly and  *****,
a fire ball he is, zooming through the sky of desire,
the longing for her transforms in to a roaring fire
within him, it untiringly rages, slowly gets sublime

It warmed him, blood coursed in force through
the veins like a river full of molten lava, with a mind,
he was blazing his trail, with accelerating creative urge
lovers of beauty saw him as a firefly of high skies
brightening  vast expanses of inner sky, like none else did
she was the serendipitous spark lighted him thus
the fuel that propels, the 'anima' behind his phenomenal drive

He was burning to find a moment to commemorate,
this fire, his desire for her, not a bit less even after all these years
unexpectedly she appears, at the moment that thought occurred,
she smiled, it's radiance fell in to his psyche, froze as a golden idol,
Wasn't it what he desired? She getting etched as the spirit of a smile!
The philosophers's ****** reading brief facts about the philosophers stone

Optional optimal before eyeing the optometrist 

A visual learner molded a adolescent mute

Can't be too well off like the conspiracy of college 

Vicious violent vows of the silent

Prevent negativity using Mudras signals

Breaking every law resembling the commandments 

Mandatory reading for mental calmness

Savior behavior when we are the creators

They can not keep track of our strawman so please fill out a virtual postman

Hyperventilating through hypnosis snap out of it like a toaster

A regular tale is not my version of hell

My first name is Michael from Hebrew origins

Far from poetry more like emotions technical difficulties

Actions are profitable when words are free to acknowledge
 Feb 2015 Emily Tyler
Don Miller
A spectrum of different experiences happen to come together
side by side they faithfully converge
so many faces have known a spectrum of different experiences


Seeing from years of old alongside the watery time
many  psyches seduced by mysteries
roaming the earth and the air and seeing from years of old


An auspicious collaboration with one single life then another
falling into the same chance for fortune
falling in to become part of the auspicious collaboration


Dripping with sweat from hundreds of generations
gathered in the midst of an echoing journey
looking up looking around looking forward
meet me exactly in the middle again
dripping with the sweat of hundreds of generations
I might be dying.
I don't know yet.
The doctors are still deciding
if I will meet Death.

I can feel
all the weird thumps.
I just don't know...
I'm in a slump.

The doctors have done the tests,
but no one knows yet.
Am I the subject of a pest,
or a huge destructive mess?
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