They sent a man
On the moon
During quarantine
He never came down
Breakdown?
Breakthrough.

The saddest of emotions
Are in memory
Of happier days
Compressed in minutes of bursting
Into tears

When I look forward
Looking back
Didn't seem like an option
For the present

The present
Is meant for
Preparing pheasant
For dinner for the innocent

There's no life in her eyes
There's no warmth in her heart
I'd said to myself that she was kind
When the veil fell I saw Death waiting
No love, only secrets to immortality

While shackled forever
In a circle of fire- without sight
What did strike me as beautiful was
The time I spent dying in her arms
No love, no more secrets this time

Conduits in a guarded hall
The millions of souls singing in unison
Of a similar silence of not fulfilling their vows
The music dances in the canopy of mosaic
Vicars garner sanguine spirits with a dance that sings
Old castles have inscriptions of the dead
And sagely spirits that haunt these very verses
Through these conduits run the blood of religion
Only the monks seem to be silent about it all

Literature takes a special place in the mind.
Where you can keep practicing reliving mysteries.
Celebrating adventure.
And preserve the childish imagination.

In the form of an enigma.
Where experience meets experience.
Where reality and dreams can coexist.
And there is a thin veneer that separates us all.

Opinion and fact are the same in a work of fiction.
Such is the nature of our perception.
Different from one another.
Existing in all in individual form, immersed in words.

The essence of literature is to rebuild the soul.
And tear the intellectual apart.
By introducing.
Love, peace, and spiritual communion.

Trees sway to the night breeze
The birds welcome the rain
With a song in their hearts
As the leaves shudder in the cold

The lilies are in love
With the streams
Never leaving their side
In the light drizzle

On days when I'm tired
I think upon the song of the rain
And it begins to pour again
Filling my heart with gladness

Much to the chagrin
Of the wives and girlfriends
My drunk friend in the inn

I bet you think you hate that muzak in your ears
Three men on the run
Sgt. Pepper confirmed all your fears
All the crazy fans kept screaming his name
Jesus had stopped that all in vain
His face still remains
As the applause should now start to sear
The one only musician
Billy Shears

Well how do you sleep at night
Oh Yoko how do you stand beside
As he weeps in his derisive stride
Your luck he hasn’t beaten your pride

You better keep it in your head
You can’t compete with Shears since you sing like the dead
The folks who told us Paul had sunk like lead
John was the balloon and with a pin ***** he’d lose his head
Too bad he never told you that your art was only good in bed

Oh how do you sleep at night
Knowing that pretty Paul has died
Oh I wonder how young Julian felt tight
When you couldn’t keep the bed bugs out, right
And when John left the two
You two purist virgins didn’t even have a fight

Well if Sgt. Pepper took him by surprise
Billy had still found a way to rise
You just had to ram it in his size
When you heard Band on the Run you knew it wouldn’t fade
Imagine all the tears that had been shed
When you made those two the critics from the first left you in the shade
Since the only mistake you made was in your head

Oh how do you sleep at night
Knowing that Billy’s took your wife
I don’t mean Yoko I mean the night
But you millionaire you still fight for your own rights
Whilst after Jesus you learned to scorn at the raucous sight
Keeping peace in your heart and peace in your mind sending peace afterwards with the tide

If I'm getting better
Then, it's getting worse with the times

If I'm getting better
Then, it's reading between bittersweet lines
Serried and sweet

If I'm getting better
Then, it's getting better with my drowning
As I indulge in my ocean of surfing oceans
Repleting the lines and repairing the metaphors

If I'm getting better
I'm here for a good time in a badland with the metaphorical girl
In metaphysical worlds with epistles of compartments
I'm getting better, as the line keeps drowning in it's meaning
It's here and now and in the next line
Waiting for you in the extra mile in a time other than this, at least not ersatz to arson

If I'm getting better all the time
I revisit my poem again on highway sixty-nine
And write one more, in the regretful repose
Adorable and somewhat waiting for your next line
Instead of counting the faults in my words for the children falling on the earth looking for ghostless cars
Trailblazing the streets of Godly proportions, see the letter of red

Hoping they will disappear completely, but, everyone is around here
Everyone is so clear, but, so full of tears for fears sanctifying
I'm conscious of my own fears, I just hold back the glistening tears
It's a real tragedy when people are afraid of the light when darkness drives away the children of the post office pedestrians crossing the mind of my angry streets

We are in the fear of darkness, the plight is just everlasting
Pushing ourselves out of our sleep to dream of peace in our state of mind, often unconscious of what's there in immediate memory
Apologizing politely for what isn't ours to keep even though it is love, serried and sweet like our ghosts
Dead inside, because of these fears and elated harmonic motions of the spies of the motionless stars in Swedish skies dreaming of cinema, crime, and punishment for the dialing phones adding those soundtracks to their lives
Addresses, books, and phone numbers in the booth on an extra mile, waiting for a one night stand to get better knowledge about the road
Finally, we are asking strangers
The right questions, dreaming of centuries
In burnt letters and burning consciousness
Lintels and fireflies all shine in the timbre of the beating wings of flying centuries
We weren't sure of what we were doing was right, we were inventing ways to live the best part of ourselves and finding happiness in rarity
The lives in broken places, and the tears of the greater good, selling ourselves to the punishing attitudes
Optioning for realistic perceptions, and picking them from the payphone
Extra line for the ones waiting for a reception on the cell phone and the mundane conversations turn into romance
If I know love is in your house, then, I'd need the number to your street
Serried and sweet, and the pictures are enough to keep of weird fished out seeds
Love is the flower, let it grow
And these mundane conversations will turn into a passion
Talking of the romance in a time where are timeless clouds and living out our times, pursuit struggling with our free cloud

The tree that once offered shade
Its leaves freefall my way
The winter hasn't changed itself

How can they be so free in their sway?
And my flowers linger for the canopy
Nature is mysterious in her ways

The summer's warmth is awaited patiently
Yet so is the winter cool
No leaves for cover nor forests for shelter

I have spent battling the winter blues
And the ceaseless storms
Then why must I wait for the truth

Just because I love you
Should I wait for fate to open its arms
So, you can too

For all the right reasons
I wait for you
With each season

What gives ten
Ask for nothing then
A gentleman entering a gambling den
Orders for the best drinks
Lights his cigarettes with a matchstick
Part of his down-to-earth routine
Not a schtick

He may even come close
To being as slick
As the English ****
Sherlock Holmes and,
Dr. Watson and his stick

Two men
Down in
The roulettes of the den
Landed every time on the red one
And every time his luck had just begun
Look out you two
You’re gonna get hit
If this Henry Gondorff cheats
Then you’re dead beat
You won’t get to even feel a *****
You’ll feel you’ve been stung by the bee

After he gets back at all the mafia men
Trying to show off by showing a ridiculous ten
He writes down a cheque
To buy out the casino
With just a sign of a Mont Blanc fountain pen

After he’s done
He goes down to the *******
Leading a pack of ten
A boisterous pack of men
They’ll probably get laid by the number one
In the house by the name of Whetton by the second

After he’s done running after medicine
She’s already got his fix
She don’t need no kick
He’s given her a night of his sweet love-making
Her heart isn’t aching

Ohh but **** it
Not again
She’s falling in love again
Being class number one chick
With a style of her own
She’s understanding a love she’s never known
You thought she was some dumb ***-addict

Now the guy knows that she’s smart
Being the upstart
He’s warm with affection again
With one night of love-makin’
With the maid of Whetton
Need no one beat her
Because he needs her

The two make love again
Forgetting the punishment
Of getting married to their sweetheart
Who is innocent

The man was after all depressed
He was sexually repressed
After the death of his marital success
She didn’t want him anywhere near his girlfriend

Of course she’d heard of him
They were close to each other then
Before he started thwarting his morals
As his life spirals
Downward
They know he’s up to no good
With the ***** in the neighbourbood

What's it gonna take
To keep you alive
How much can I take
Out of this goodbye

What's it gonna take
To make fall asleep
Rest assure that
The heat's in my ear
Keeping nibbling
Baby

When you look into my eyes
You calm the storm inside
The helpless trees shift their feet
And the leaves move swiftly in the breeze

As you touch my hair with your fingers
A dawn is breaking and the sun blushes crimson
Bringing up the sleepy birds out of their slumber
To fly into the heat of summer

The stars pale in the distance
Hail emerges and the night listens
As soon as the sun comes out
My wait will end

The blue ceiling is on fire
Hail is scarce at this time of the year
Dust over desire
Time is lost to the tears, I won't lie

The trees whiten under the pale moon
The rising dawn is awaiting its turn
I too wait
As skies take me from my feet, illuminating me

Seasons change and time is endless
With these wings, I will circle the trees
The wait continues
For once I look at the night as it does at me

I see scarlet
When I hear the funeral trumpet
Now she is just a color

I hear Scarlet's cries
The love of my life
Murdered in cold blood
She was my wife

I have synesthesia
I see the blood
Imagining color is easier
For me

The blood has turned cold
But the color is warm
I feel blue when I think of her
And feel much warmer

If I wrote my words
In blood
Would it be in vein

You can write your life in elegies, the culture still remains the same
Some say we can make the truth or zero-knowledge from song and dance
Old and aged, insatiable and satiate our addictions lancing us on horses hedonistic
If I were a psychiatrist I'd read you, talk of zero summers, in Hebrew biopsy and medicines, a free think of hope, dangerous thing
But, soon wildflowers will be writing about you makes it worth selling, trouble bed's made and occupied by ***** and mead
If I were a state of mind, I'd be a person of my lines of stares
I write these as an essay on the highs of cultural expression, Tanks can also be a form of cultural expression
Maybe it's oppression on the fire of the year of ten soldiers on the freedom of the nightlight and lively likeness if we were searching for lost gold
It's a way we write about the memories and have free will and fears too, truant about freedom often losing courage and killing kings, queens often make out of it really sad
Rarely, raffle, rabble fiefdom, caviling censuring frenetic energy, virile yelling, on the catatonic hall in the cat in the LA Alhambra hall, or maybe souls pass in that dark hall
It is in the falling stars, into the years as they go by on the fault line of insatiate desires, burning fires in the circles of hell
Arriving in this Le suiva drama or friends in our pallbearers of different friends married to different soulS
Hangovers and everything, black and blue, white and black I cannot tell that the kitten is following in its the prologue of lithe likewise following the battered suitcases on the ways, and long ago
Something like this friendship and relations, festering autumn, seasons change and the summers brings the music of the piano man, Billy Joel
Plays in the freedom that reeks of freedom in the hallway, reflecting in the drunk cigarettes, starched shirts often come in the forum of swarth men, in the frescoed building painted with freewill to achieve
Heights for freewill and tumescence in tempestuous objectivity, of how we look at life, grades of herons, Freud's animals degraded in this foxtail, a plant across the house
In yonder tempered mental gaze, it's struggling to solve these worlds in fewer drinks and more works
Works offered their dreams, we offer the night terrors and midnight mistreatment
Treatize odyssey, riches to rags, muses can call me in my sleep and leave me out wry
Dry

The derision of the derided of the dedicated to the storm
The fire and the ice and the love and the rights and people of the demise of the dear and the redeemable
Medication and rumination sounds rather medical can you take through the bridge and preamble
Without the rhyme and pressing matters of the youthful climb
This is just a success ladder and a rare woman
Lugging a leather bag, pursed lips ready for sudden panging hunger
Like a feather fad endemic and indolent in nature, the droll *******
You telling me I'm alacrity and criminal in the numinous nimble loss for words, the fake feeling
Bewwushteinshlage tell me I'm not rising with the tide, the dyer maker
Hot dripping and filling and dryer head full of hairy dreams
The seeds and searching for the demise of the promising song
And the fresh feed of afraid and fearful peaceful people in this clouded age and premise obsessed by flippant speech
Of hungry people acting so foolishly and speaking through their teeth for the representatives of the burning heart of education
Good glaciers are this a revelation and puerile pride and repeat the same behavior if it's so lyrical
Can I tell my sorrows, and the thorough and boughs rescinding of the glances
Advancements come and go, the gut feeling is good to row
The feeling of building and the bullish ****** find of joking kindred spirits
Drilling pleasantries into ole' midterm me losing my feet and losing my need for finishing school
From the rise of the morning, the time is frolicking and not easy
Someone's running from the hopeful and the ****** and the futon for the shrink's naysay
Daydream and rolling dear ad veritas in this vine of dwindling nations, just a glass domino
Words falling like a little limerick and it hurts just distress others
Taking sister act and the distance doesn't matter to someone obsequious and robed
We are stunned by your logic and your jokes, but, you need to shut the **** up
Finally, awaken the human up and stare at the cellar and have a drink
Before the new fire sails through your life instead of the old flame you remember

Once you move on, this song will be yours
The memories I left behind will falter
Tomorrow will offer the same promise
To people deserving a love like yours

With each ephemeral second, you drift further
But, the right guy always appears closer
I wish you could see the wound inside me
But, I'm glad I could set you free

I see that the gems that are hardest to find
Are worth the journey after a while
I hope you find these words I left behind
I hope you get the guy, you always liked

When the waters of life are choppy
God saved you from the storm
When times are smooth sailing
God gave you friends

Is your ruthless heart brave and emboldened
Does your heart not waver, I know it flies
Birds wither in wait of your golden sun
As blithe wings should with the loveliest of white

Let's fly seas that have remained quite unseen
Air of fair clouds and sweetness of blonde curls
In my cold solace, with the warm silver face alone
Moonbeams rain! We soon make worlds of our own

How we clasp nights not meant to stay
Hope that finds ecstasy in this passage
Will soon be gone at the break of bright day
Yet, what is lost is not mourned, only bit aged

Your presence such old memories it brings
If nearer the sun, I'd melt my wax wings

Feathered wing
Why Do you
Sail away into the night?

'Cause you're meant to
Sail into love
Sail into heights
Sail into the ocean
Of The Breeze

Whisper like the calm chirping
Of The Birds
Off With the heads of the seas
With Poseidon of
Godly wrinkled waters
That made his gelid cheeks
Of sorrow...
Of a human disguise
So sorrowful
Unspoken
Begotten
By The din

Singin with skipping beats
Playing the same seats
He was done with rustic Lyric
With the growling guitar
"Rusty" leaning by your
Guitar for a change
CHange turning
To your soul
With the grunge
Of Nirvana
ANyone who read this I appreciate
My followers
Greatly
#Good
#With
#Poetry

Fear is the relief of
Being lost in the woods
When the canopy shines
Before the night arrives

Fear is the relief of
Being greeted by the sea
Welcomed by the breeze
As the storm subsides

When I lie awake at stark midnight
At night, I find relief
In the darkest reliefs of the mind
Where fear is a friend of the dark

The years have gone by
That can keep you alive
As much as memories
Dying in the times
Of a forgotten friend
An enemy now
I can keep for life

Love can bring
People together
As well make them respect
Their differences

With grace she doused
Her hair in fuel
And lit the flames
As a burning carousel

What will be
Never belongs to us
So, we treat what we have
So, carefully

If the moon calls out your name
It lets out a whisper
Because my heart speaks to it softly

In the existence
You will
Find your bliss
With the essence of pepper
A simple passage of paper
Of the vociferous vulpine in the green forest
Unseen in this coniferous leaf
Cerulean eyes gaze at the frozen lake
Miracles of Strangers
Foxes running from every empty glass of water
Taking away the serried scenes of defafening silence
There must some way to keep this away
From the authorities
I must confess
I have been deprived
It has been for long
But, not for eternity
With the same breath
I turn
My life
My love
Peace walks among shadows of crowds that you can't explore
Type so slow, I probably haven't typed a word
I'm censored
I'm spoken
I'm in love
In the beleaguering bliss

Do you drive past her place
At night
In that isolated town
Where the streetlights don't light up
Do you walk past her window
Whilst staring at your shadow
Wondering how things ever got so out of hand
Do you cycle with your friends past her fences
Wondering why she never comes out anymore
Getting tired of the suspense?
As your friends keep asking
Whether she sneaks out
Because she is grounded
Or she doesn't want to be seen by you
And they chuckle
At the thought of this
Confounded

She's a small town girl
Give her some time and she'll get around
After all she is vulnerable in your arms
Just like all the other girls

Hey! Play it really low
War in control, when we were young
And now we are old, the chrome guns
Are the same as the charming wine of the nuns
The metaphysics of the majestic soul
Is just an entitlement, it's strong in this one
She says "I deserve this." unable to hide her inadequacies
And reservations about presidential fools, like the rogue agents
Like me and fela grupi, till the clocks run out
The guns come out in the Brixton Sun
Time for gun control, like the paper planes
That fly like the paper dreams
The taste of thin rhymes that you had your singles on
Singularity, I interest your plural discretionary warning
I have been given many caveats by the ladies at the Taco Bell
The eatery still welcomes the immigrants, like the American Government
I felt better about changing my mind, regarding the tall sights
And the people digging ditches and splitting the bleeding cigarettes and marijuana bills

Her fighting fear and rumbling rage youthfully flickers
She doesn't know, how the chess pieces lie parallel to the cars
Kindred heart, I do keep some appointed time with myself to learn
Passing the queen in numbers, prudently teaching me about vitriolic teaching

Loathing is strong on this avuncular admirer
A student of knowledge that should've recused her lying papers
Caressing herself in the most apologetic ways and climactic jealousy
I couldn't help forgive her for foraging a game without an aphrodisiac

The thought of mollycoddling makes my charm turn into an effeminate curriculum
You crashed class and charmed your way into our crash course in astronomy
Incendiary was the love at first sight, that story's burnt to putrid parchment now
Drapes, verdant, croquet in the halls of the star-crossed sensual words
"Push it in, slowly."~drew blanks

With their pups and kittens
In boring cardboard boxes
An orphanage
Runs in the deserts
Amnesty
Creates hopes through
Providing food
To well-watered flowers
Children just keep blooming
Beautifully

You tell me
We can never be together
Here I am
Sitting with myself
Thinking of ways to keep myself
From falling apart

Maybe you're thinking
You just don't know it yet
If you go looking for the best quality things
You end up looking for the lovely little things
T keep them clean
In that insecurity
Of cherishing non-entities
There are no doubts that what you did was well-deserved
But rest you haven't heard
There's a sleeping dragon in my yard
What the hell you mean you forgot it you ****** fool
If the box under the maze of fire wasn't bad enough.
Well, he just accidentally lit his focus on fire.
Was he looking through that
Purposely, if he were mature
He could perhaps, but, there's no certainty Vicious will need it.
Vicious needs focused and important Red Dragon defuncts and he's looking for these criminals for now.

Inside the box of dreams contingent to divergent nightmares
In the confines of a large painting and solitude and suns
You smell the beauty of her soluble features in the eyes as one
Does it do to have a surplus of truth
The ego of driving id letting your inner self spasm without word's worth and worthiness
Relate to someone, whose heights you must torch and focus on oh so much
Buffering winds and engulfing flames, and paint of wolf and werewolves
The moist stench of inventiveness and red veritas of the current year, in the current art of the raw and cooked
Often, thousands of years could be prepared, before you learn a decade of failure, brewing strangely
Decadence doesn't exist in this defined structure wither the body withers in song and dance
Sundry and adamantine guillotines do sew her flesh in hatchets, axes, and bows
Arches and gallantry of cavalry in a dither and dearth dense censuring, of diseased purgatory
Looking at yourself beyond the riches, and rags to ditches.

You can be my date
My chocolate cake
Taking my breath away

But, you are the stars in the sky
So far away

Can you be the fire to my wood?
I'd love to take you out for a cup of tea
But, you seem like a woman meant for caramel coffee
Maybe, you aren't just meant for me

Hence, we weren't a pair to be
You had to make it three

...The universe breathes in the dark

Torn posters
Broken cigarettes
I've been wanted by the police
Chased out of my room
Of torn posters
And broken cigarettes
The life of bounty head is a cruel one
Salinger has nothing on me
I'd smoke if I were playing around rye
Catching people just like the cops beat around the bush
Knocking on your doors telling you have been framed
For a poor and direct assumption

Trying to perceive the dissonance
I changed paths
Walked and treaded, went looking for the mendacious among the  
Well read, there lay somnambulant desires
Was time and space, I could not face the present summer months seem longer
The billowing nimbuses turned into the peach clouds meant to be there
Sadness washes over your face like acid and acrid Pink Floyd
The painkillers just wash down your sink with the medication
The window of torture in the soul's window
Call it watching the smokescreen with scion meant watching
The sunrise
The same reminiscent pain comes to haunt you again
They're watching and praying
I hope you find your wealth in good luck, but good wealth in bad luck
But, you can't be rich and pretend to not talk about it
Go ahead then let's talk about it

Let me introduce you to quick ***
You don’t need titillating material
To get over your ex
Let me introduce you to books
To help girls to get over your frightful looks

This infamous art form is said
To have improved people in bed
But if you want the healthy way to let off steam
And not let your testicles do harm to your flying piece of lead
Or ******* ahead
We two will have to work as a tight team for the time ahead
So that you remain clean till you’re twelve
To the time you are blissfully dead

I don't smile, the same way at least
My hand doesn't tremor anymore
This pen flows like the water
In which the aquatic wilderness swims

I've found courage
So I look up to the skies
A heart that skips a beat
As a white bird scores a fish

I've found self-expression
Art and wisdom; candlewax pours
It melds with the polish of my table
Books, papers, pens, memories

These are the fragmented thoughts
Of a writer
On the verge of a breaking down
Tired of waiting and waiting

There was a time
When a boy lived
In a home of keys
He had a key for every situation
One day, a man approached
Asking him, how do I live with my wife
The boy searches for a key
He finds a flower crested one
And says, this shall placate your wife
Let me warn you, however
At the full moon
The key disappears
And so does its magic
The man goes back
Tells his wife
Look at this beautiful ornate thing
The wife says this is perfect
For now we can be the best of lovers
The husband delighted with his purchase
Waits for the full moon
Wondering why a key
With such lasting happiness
Should have temporary power
The full moon approaches
The wife is always toying with the key
This worries the husband
But, he allays his concerns
Thinking, his wife will not mind a bit
For now, let him enjoy her company
And he had been getting plump lately
When the full moon arrives
The wife seems pale
The husband now understands
That it was the key to her heart
Now the magic had died
With it came sorrow
As the key vanished
She locked away her joys
Forever, in her heart
The flower never blossomed again

The depth of winter
In a cold gaze from the sky
Is covered by fog's translucence
Wishing to fly with the yew trees

So, as the night brightly sparkles
Such water cannot compare to
Only be a mere reflection of its beauty
All that is alive is a free miracle

Woodpeckers sit on the clear earth
Ne'er on the floor of moonlight
As they sleep in weeping willows
Who cover them in tears to keep out the night

I was born in the rain
Asking will life relive its pain
Came to me in a dream
Seems to me since I was born to scream.

On and off and on again
Seems to me I'm preparing to drown in pain
But after recognizing my old folks
I appears to be unreal.

I don't remember much
After all I couldn't say much
But I remember landing my first punch
How with elation I heard his cheekbones crunch.

My childhood wasn't easy
Nor was it crazy
It was spent introspecting
While being mistaken for staring helplessly.

Finally, now I'm a grown up
Puberty happened instantly
'Cause I was inside me
And I could never get out.

That was until I met my first girl
She could send the boys' hearts in a swirl
Any misogyny
And she would send them back in egotistic whirling fury.

We finally grew old together
Life did relive its pain a lot faster
But at least she didn't die in vain.
Now that's a sad story.

Chances are you forgot you have an ace
In your pocket, questionable thespians are weary, winsome women
In a poet's life, bringing him to temptation and avoiding coyness
Coarse behavior can be a form of attention and aptitude
But the coquettish reminded me of the inhibitions as an observer
An accosted girl left in a town also was a part of this terse reason
Edicts could have been written on her spontaneous knowledge
Buttressing this poor logic was her reasonable interest in my expression
Art, was a class apart when we sat together creating a dense-structured essay
Yearning for better proliferation in opulent desires, ideas were purloined
Carpe Diem became Carper Nocte
And the Illuminati Du Ponts were a sourced for respite
As her religion didn't interest me
Her faith in God brought me tears
I folded her legs and broke her spirit
Took her to a place where religion made me happy
The release was being with a long-lasting ******
The happiness was in the blood
Blackness hovered her face as she was gonna get it
The pressing of the abdomen didn't bring adolescence anymore
God what is time to those religious, but, reckless
In the everlasting love for enervated breath and emotion
Relentless, there were frescoes of superior litany veritably written