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Michael Parish Mar 2017
I wondered if he liked slouching
Or sniffing black cigars in his garden
With pitchers of red beer glazing
Under coconuts!

                               2

Im in a paccific coast lite house trying to find what makes the water on this map solid and walkable.  
After all its just a painting coppied on computers and sold to children at truck stops.  I want the waves and the gummy worms all at once the coke bottles flowing out in globs of stout the kind i waited to get to and sink into like padded stools over looking the atlantic.  Open a mohito on sunday close the pork farm on monday.  You lit a smoke and dreamed of climbing the tallest cypress in havanah.  I passed out in key west on a marlin charter.  We never found a submarine thay day.
Michael Parish Jan 2016
My pink toes my jerky
Driftwood something yellow
Like hot dogs something nuts
Like a grren home run
Ya my rest
My privacy
My screaming snooze dreams.
Somone spun lip stick
Like ******* or keats
Somebody kised
My drunk asain drunk neck
Somebody killed
Somedy went to their mother
Im under winsheilds scraming phony
Co piolet tuaila valley
Look left we kicked shopping centers
Some man who screams like
Short *****
Goes listen
I finally admitted you did my back
Caking dizzy scream
Some man my hair
Some man i hate
Some man nobody wants
Bedz wax
He whines hes called blood
He dri ks steak he won
He beat the used ****
Well here goes privacy
My red head tok my room room
I cat litter the bay dreams
I find rade im gay
My **** i pace the boys
It seems everyone hold my dads hat
Ifi could kiss my dad
Tell my mom she runs with seaweed
Wehat we ****
We buy we ***** drinks
Why keep something
I dream of addictive ****
I dream of inteligance
My dad gre wild my dads dad would of hated my hair cream my dads dad respects ******* but swore a white mans
Hair cut belongs in the red blue cut atoms apple break down who runs who kills who wears
Who goes home with no fault until pies goose her.  Well
She love my cards when the carpets partedand checkersmeant seing aa young man wit no control.
Howmany now
Since im older
Ever wished they just ****** the boy
Howmany got freedom
No body they only hope love got a better *******
Love got a wiser time!
Michael Parish Dec 2015
Something will be found which they cannot express.

The crowd in your white lace dress!!

Your mind thorougly smug
Beneath your wet hairs

A kitten of our love

Oh yea it is shadowed green half way

Round a billion christmas trees
White washed with star bleach!

An evning in a wall frozen like apples...

I felt spiders, lime water poising my skin
like Hiroshima,
                                The falling iguanas (fake)
I lied.

Nothing from south america becomes sand like japanese papers.  Another great poem ******!
                                    (2)

     On the airof this busy pitty progress- I squeal electric darkness.
    May i feel
May i feel

May i feel your divine maze of unsucess?

In desserts very clean.    Thefront yard decided much so or pain.  

The street light in desperation was postphoned with recent tears

With recent tears,  thick syrup,  over winter honey.

Seattle dusk is turned to grand piano keys

With goods.          Pages of grim dead fish

Just **** money out of delicate breeding!

She blushes like a ruby chinook!

Now i have picked where to carve
Her unwrapped layers.

Beautiful things are softer then thin clear bones.  

I know the dead are haphazards.

But im not much from another river.

I have ran over lastyears broken tides with snow bringing the scent of melted cheese.

And life is over

But often times with voice there is so much more.

Unreal crys,  richly pay,half a block, red rosy eyes in the haze.

At last im getting a sweet pool of glaciar water- a sweet place to **** out my twisting invention. An excrement i started, imagination from my impulsive instinct.
Michael Parish Dec 2015
The world believes Mr. Best
If you want to know
He leads the town

Does he?

Its what im telling you

Tame essence
                                 Pretty country folk
His best bed

Coat of clear / holy roman mix ups.
****** shame that any son should foil
And
Ask on his fantastical fat-thick shoes.

(Advice to those kids who insist
On getting even with Mr Best)


Chip us all the old bricks of shattered
Glass domes.
White and red.         Curled acording to
Their litness
                          
Woa sonny!

                   Dont raise the wind in your
Arm!
       B.  Stay peace full...
Give it your Best shot.
Michael Parish Dec 2015
The golden lemons
Go by.  

A jet of fire we cant
Catch.
Michael Parish Dec 2015
I work to win and take the ravens flight
And go because I think I know im rite.
We take off from problems and touch another place.  I left the soil, I can spring away from there.  The open egg grows to leap away from safty.  I work to win and take the ravens flight and go because I think I know whats rite.  Its about time to steal the open breath, so make a mess and work to win the ravens flight.  And go because we know whats rite.  So trust the dive and feel your flight.  Theres no leap thats touper.
Michael Parish Nov 2015
My fathers room explodes with encores and cheers for him to keep on playing:  a lady in the croud raises her rite hand as he sings
"Baby i still want to know if you need me".
My mothers ready to drag him out and spill his teeth over the back alley:  you ******* i knew you were an ***, your an ***, an ***.  
He sings again to the croud:  "Its my day for the whiskey". "its day for the whiskey".  
"Baby please understand me".
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