Poetry is a
     well-oiled function,
      processing sentiments
                for posterity

*Poetry is an extension
     of our core elements,
           royally regurgitated

we walked past the buildings
that house all your feelings
and too many tooth fillings
is killing me
my mouth is sore
for one more reason

At one moment in time
  she was poetry in motion,
'til she pirouetted herself
  unto dusty shelves
midst old clouded rhymes
   & recollected love notes
yet, there were echoes
  glistening 'tween strands
   of web's interlacing design,
meshing her finessed
  past within gossamer's
complex entanglements
  amid labyrinths of
    ancient symphonies
she dances, still ~
  silently in her head
flirting with destiny
       albeit, not as grand

She was all starry-eye blitzed
  which was one helluva party
'til a lit moon crashed her high,
    hungover indifferent
             clouded sky falling -
      tripping earth's cruel stratosphere

She was a fiery seashell,
  lost 'neath convoluted oceans
     amongst opuses of pure poetry,
artistically outspoken
   'tween invertebrate reality
secretly devouring mankind,
  beware Herr Lucifer,  
she rose from the gaseous chamber
   to live amidst ashes of immortality
         & renowned marital infamy,
      the eternal burning spirit of Lady Lazarus

Out of the ash
I rise with my red hair  
And I eat men like air.
                 - Sylvia Plath

maybe this face
was made for being anxious
and these palms
were made to be clammy
and this stomach
was made for butterflies
and this heart
was made to beat faster
and this bed
was made for us

i don't want to be around
for anything other than
to make you feel better
than you do right now

In the shadows of a
    darkly relinquished night,
 an unrelenting musing beast struck
       presenting a proposition,
         as he pranced about
           viscous vision's intentions,
promised a copious poesy garden
        'tween early morn's
            buttercup metaphors
              & dusk's poppy delusions,
danced 'til lavishly penned spirits
    were indubitably unleashed
        exploding 'neath elliptical eclipses;
whence the sun it did bounteously appear
    midst all its magnificent splendor,
        whilst Delphic inky nectar dripped
           deliberately ascending beyond
                   hellbent scripted passages,
    midst vaporous voids of creation
                'pon paradisaical prolific poetry

Trapped 'tween
  adjectives' objections
succumbed to
  long-windedness,
snared 'neath an
  expanse of circumlocution,
paraphrasing periphrases
   buried under layers
       of technicalities,
all in a day's multiformity
   working midst the madness
           of poetry's sublimity

there were endless baubled
      babbles in her head,
yet, she spoke nary a word,
scribbled 'pon careful avenues
    neath cautious sky cover,
her notions were
   silver lined intended
      amidst dandelion wishes,
but the waylaid winds
  always whisked them away
    as insignificant gray clouds
         unquestionably appeared
     beyond shadow's fair conditions,
   whilst torrents smeared
       a reigning scrawled disarray,
  deluging what was left of
          her frozen sunrise passages