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Michael Parish Jan 2015
My poor washed up mother
Of fifty three has nothing
And I will never move away...
The last line is ironic.
Michael Parish Jan 2015
Green lawns I see you

Changing my mornings

Bronze leaves I need you

Like a fool sees a warning.
Michael Parish Jan 2015
what is there to criticize!
We fear what others think
And think our passions dead.
Failure  We fail by believing what others
Never said.
We create everyone's judgement
Do not fear death you cannot
Stay in bed.
We fear what others think and
Think our passions dead.
Michael Parish Jan 2015
There's old junior Bobby
Waltzing fine felt elegies
Back stage fronting
Towards his morning
Patrons of widowers
And their crows
Feather coffee
Trying so hard
To tell young
Men what
Their Rose gardens
Once did before
Our now lady returns with
Smiles hoping
The one letter she took
Out of her name
Creates better tips.
Michael Parish Dec 2014
Out of her calls
Come calypsos
Defiance
Alas perfections
Immortality
Total sexuality.
Michael Parish Dec 2014
You are heads or tails
What you give me I except
Subconsciously.  Inside me I make
You forgetful.
So some how

Now you are women on sand.
Unapproachable
Inside me she has been impressionable.
What she knows I change quickly
When she calls me I stand
Respectfully
When she drops I pull her out
Like buckets of squid.
Michael Parish Dec 2014
It's hard to see how unread the love we share becomes.  How strangely women turn off our solo.
White snow stealing the grass
So children can ride them.
The unforgiven gardens to secret
Soil.
You didnt know you didn't know.
It's all you, it's all you.
The Canadian geese chasing the ducks
Hoping for hand outs.
Is all we will ever feel
And all we ever hold back
Because our tireless souls
Have liove with our strange
Breaded dreams
To show our serenaded
Screaming psalms amongst the pitty of rainy days
And make us hunt those midnight
Martini kisses player fashion.
But now comes the kicker and we are settled.  To rap that we have lost our
Main vision forgotten so ignorently lost.
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