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Are you struck with her figure and face?
    How lucky you happened to meet
With none of the gossiping race,
    Who dwell in this horrible street!
They of slanderous hints never tire;
    I love to approve and commend,
And the lady you so much admire,
    Is my very particular friend!

How charming she looks — her dark curls
    Really float with a natural air;
And the beads might be taken for pearls,
    That arc twined in that beautiful hair:
Then what tints her fair features o'erspread -
    That she uses white paint some pretend;
But, believe me, she only wears red
    She's my very particular friend!

Then her voice, how divine it appears
    While carolling: "Rise gentle moon;"
Lord Crotchet lastnight stopped his ears,
    And declared that she sung out of tune;
For my part, I think that her lay
    Might to Malibran's sweetness pretend;
But people won't mind what I say —
    I'm her very particular friend!

Then her writings — her exquisite rhyme
    To posterity surely must reach;
(I wonder she finds so much time
    With four little sisters to teach!)
A critic in Blackwood, indeed.
    Abused the last poem she penned;
The article made my heart bleed —
    She's my very particular friend!

Her brother dispatched with a sword,
    His friend in a duel, last June;
And her cousin eloped from her lord,
    With a handsome and whiskered dragoon:
Her father with duns is beset,
    Yet continues to dash and to spend —
She's too good for so worthless a set —
    She's my very particular friend!

All her chance of a portion is lost,
    And I fear she'll be single for life;
Wise people will count up the cost
    Of a gay and extravagant wife:
But tis odious to marry for pelf,
    (Though the times are not likely to mend,)
She's a fortune besides in herself —
    She's my very particular friend!

That she's somewhat sarcastic and pert,
    It were useless and vain to deny;
She's a little too much of a flirt,
    And a slattern when no one is by:
From her servants she constantly parts,
    Before they have reached the year's end;
But her heart is the kindest of hearts —
    She's my very particular friend!

Oh! never have pencil or pen,
    A creature more exquisite traced;
That her style does not take with the men,
    Proves a sad want of judgment and taste;
And if to the sketch I give now,
    Some flattering touches I lend;
Do for partial affection allow —
    She's my very particular friend!
they come easier
when the rain
washes away
tears, all becomes
so much clearer
when answers
become questions
and time becomes
finite
when hurt becomes
just a fickle memory
just a trickle of shivers
that run down
a spine
distance remembers
that unjust thoughts
are a simple art
that carry their own
magic
we danced
on razors blades
in the end
forgetting
the softness
of the feathers
where we bedded
at the start
but what is
tragic?
is that I never
apologised
Not for my
words,or
my actions
or,
for why I thought
you would
care?
I want to apologise
that I occupied
the same space
as you
and you never
really knew
I was there

*i am so sorry
just making peace... it needed to be said, can't do it when I'm dead *shrug*
I've been slippin,*
Eventually fell on my ***
Laid there on the concrete,
Evaluated the cracks

There they were connected
Perfect little fragments
A picture to me was reflected
So I picked myself up off the pavement

Then I caught the street lights,
Bright in my peripheral
Standing tall in front of dark houses
Of disconnected individuals

Two for the price of one
Morals half off
Discounted beliefs
Aisle 93, you lost?

Right by the worker,
With the smile upside down
"Which one..?"
It seems each employee's already hit the ground..

But they haven't gotten back up

Don't pay attention
Flip on the telly
Take advantage of those ads
Fill up ya belly

Contact your doctor
Take those pills!
You act with compassion
Surely, you are ill

"Maybe I am
Time to face and confess it
I was happy growing my own medicine
Until I got arrested"

This make up is the best!
Animal tested
You'll be the next pretty face
Thanks for your investment!

It's 5 o'clock somewhere
Let's get beer with the bros!
Bring back some chicks to the crib
Who thinks they can drive home?


So I try to stay away from that reality
Brainwashed to the system
To become an inevitable casualty

So many in that realm
Think they're better than everyone else
Speak in tongues
Just to get the prize on the shelf
Play with it a little bit
Then sneak away in stealth
Get something new
With all the hours you spent for wealth

What about your health?

On the other side of the spectrum
Are the hurt, waiting for the cure-all
Put down by other hurt people
Numb the pain with alcohol
Infectious depressions
Brought to you by society
I'm sorry, but,
It seems like a lot of lies and wasted time to me

Because you're beautiful
And don't ever forget it
Now tell that to the mirror
And remember who said it

And so I delve
Inside myself
Many know what's wrong
Yet too apathetic to help

I can see my ego still alive in me
Take a step back, pause and breathe
Lose identity in the forest, among the trees
Wind from mother nature's lips helps me release
It stimulates my soul, and puts my mind at ease
And when I look up to the sky
I know
I have all I need

-I'm so glad I fell-

I realized I'm beautiful,
& I'll never forget it
I have my own faultlines
Imperfectly splendid
Looked into the mirror
Ride in the eyes - introspective
Then I smiled
But honestly, only because
I absolutely meant it~
what's the space between space called
what makes the darkness darker
where's the highest height, lowest low
how does light lighten up things
how is there a place between places
how does a smell stay smelly
what gravitates gravity
why can't I stop loving and needing you
thinking of you
and the quietude in your mind that is
a struggle to main train,
so let me be the main line for your wavering train,
the caboose to your engine,
the second cell, the mitosis,
the backstop that backs up
those daisy boots gone walking

arms that have beheld
but never held you,
will follow your lead,
and if you get off course,
they'll be the friend
to kick your ***

arms that have beheld
but never held you,
will follow your lead,
and if you get off course,
they'll be the friend
to kick your ***
9:30AM  Martin Luther King Day
Having borne witness to the attachment of wires around lunar geographical parameters, I am curious about the voltage limits of electric chicken.
In its southern-fried condition, I now draw your attention to celebratory flutterings around the Maypole whilst masticating upon ancient crop circles.
Apollo may be affiliated with Grecian mythological ancestry, but I have found harmony within the branches of dendrology.
As the seas of our sovereign forefathers cry aloud from palaeolithic runways, a multitude of timeless deities cluck amidst the hay of eclectic Kentucky.
It is only one minute to midnight.
We must depart now.
Scale the walls of knowledge, if you will, my Western friend of ambivalence.
But, before we leap into the crevasse of botanical diversity, it is important that we understand that the smoke reveals beings which traverse physical paths of obscurity.
So, we must relax and give careful attention to the details with which we presume to be confronted.
Interpretation is a concept that reminds me of chocolate-covered mint fondant.
It is all in the power of the suffix, don't you think?
My fingers running through your hair, your ears placed exactly on my chest so you could hear my heartbeat. your fingers are tapping my shoulder in sync with my heartbeat, and you telling me to "slow down" thinking it was somehow possible for me defy the laws of nature…loving you. loving you was real, almost natural. Brought up believing that love only existed with Jasmine and Aladdin, But this time, it was me and you. The way your eyes would warm me up with the look filled with love, almost telling me that it will last; now just a distant memory filled with self pity and hate for every time I paused before I said "I love you too". Every lost opportunity to numb my pain with your lips and warm touch. The last time I could wake up in the middle of the night to look at your peaceful face, with a faint smile on your face as if knowing that this is where we belong, together forever in the safe presence of the dark figures now haunting my memory.
The forcible torrents rave on, ceaseless
Turmoil spins in a topsy-turvy wave
Bodies in shambles, minds twisted, restless
Drama and crises, emotions we crave
Twerking with the devil, licking the sledge
Morison's snake ride to "The (darkest) End"
Pushing the limits over the damp edge
Following and tweaking the latest trend
Emotional upheaval - rebellion
Creative juices overflow with paint
There is art in every great Hellion
But little ink flows from the mighty saint
Be content in the rich chaos of youth
It's the rains that nurture the seeds of truth
Shakespearian Sonnet form in a series I'm writing for my kids.
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