Yellow, yellow, yellow, yellow!
It is not a color.
It is summer!
It is the wind on a willow,
the lap of waves, the shadow
under a bush, a bird, a bluebird,
three herons, a dead hawk
rotting on a pole—
Clear yellow!
It is a piece of blue paper
in the grass or a threecluster of
green walnuts swaying, children
playing croquet or one boy
fishing, a man
swinging his pink fists
as he walks—
It is ladysthumb, forget-me-nots
in the ditch, moss under
the ****** of the carrail, the
wavy lines in split rock, a
great oaktree—
It is a disinclination to be
five red petals or a rose, it is
a cluster of birdsbreast flowers
on a red stem six feet high,
four open yellow petals
above sepals curled
backward into reverse spikes—
Tufts of purple grass spot the
green meadow and clouds the sky.

Yellow, yellow, yellow, yellow!
It is not a color.
It is summer!
It is the wind on a willow,
the lap of waves, the shadow
under a bush, a bird, a bluebird,
three herons, a dead hawk
rotting on a pole—
Clear yellow!
It is a piece of blue paper
in the grass or a threecluster of
green walnuts swaying, children
playing croquet or one boy
fishing, a man
swinging his pink fists
as he walks—
It is ladysthumb, forget-me-nots
in the ditch, moss under
the ****** of the carrail, the
wavy lines in split rock, a
great oaktree—
It is a disinclination to be
five red petals or a rose, it is
a cluster of birdsbreast flowers
on a red stem six feet high,
four open yellow petals
above sepals curled
backward into reverse spikes—
Tufts of purple grass spot the
green meadow and clouds the sky.

Buried by the oak tree
  For her soul glimmered gold,
  That bore trunks with silver,
   That shimmered leaves with youth,
    Beneath roots that flushed beauty,
    With twigs blooming as ripe daisy's.

Likewise, or
So flustered got her bewildered
About pins and needles

How could he the knock-wood
my piece quoting her,
Your my pin flower near
the pin Oaktree
Wishing upon me
The woodsy-star* riddle

Not very far they see the castle
Her sticky glued shut eyes

So delicately-pinned cries
Her pincushions like
pinwheel's of flower
He bloomed right in
Pinnochio the falling star
Trying to pick up her
jeweled pin but the
hardwood
hammered
him in
Pinnochio was left
there saddened  in
a bin
Like a mix up your
dukes up
What a fluke-prize
The gift came and went

The passionate
((Pin)) handshake
Handling with care
His wooden hand
I Pincurls she's the bay
fantasy night
land

The country-girl acts
So picky meeting
the right
heart positively
She feels she always
right so conceitedly
"I Charmed" repeatedly
At times jittery but Smitty
Any wood could talk
she knocks them pin pretty

The wood cradle of hay
What a pity she's born to
be witty
What a highboy she's
the tomboy why?

Not a Momma and
the Papas boy
Miss wooden chair
With her overall pants
Consider yourself corduroy
The woodsy Troy
He loved his
rocking horse
Met Jimetty cricket
That carved
*******, he sneaked
something Oliver twist
in his pocket

Perky pin of hats joy
Real McCoy but he's
the wooden boy

Gheppetto with his
wooden pipe Oh! Boy
The wooden
soldier boy
Cracking jokes
Nutcracker
marching
Woody Chuck is
quite the inspector

A house is not a home
Everyone smokes

Robin Hood
What a wooden hole of a
glitch for the gals so plastic
King Charles hunter
Mr.Geppetto needed a
miracle (Holy) thunder
Not a human on
facebook to wonder

Her X-husbands playing
X-infinity such activity
Picture zoom in
"Just Dream" of a
wooden dollhouse
Without your
spouse

Email or wifi
Legs were creaking
and Pinnochio say Hi
his nose was love-longing

The desk was
a bad omen flying
Inked pens and
Wood Chipping
The Woodpecker
Ancient wood heart
locket

His wooden head
wouldn't
fit into the socket

Woodcarved body
lines frame was
Eye pin curving and
stripping

The snoop dog
His paws got into
Pinocchio's puzzle
Hungry cry like a
Wolf Tie one on
Lie one con
Con one peeping Tom
Pinnochio his nose
is getting graphically
Longer Sherlock
  Magnifying nose
Like a calendar
  year whole pin
ball wizard
new nose longer
lucky 8 oddball months

She left his schoolboy
clothes on the wooden
hanger

Ringo met Pinnochio
They had something
in common the nose
has wisdom

Ghepetto and Giovanni
Battista looking for Julliete
loved classical she-devil
the cafe barista met her
Romeo

This wasn't the year
for a cup of the nose
Cappuccino
Go-Chopin he looks
frazzled
The Cook beef barley
soup

Pinned and looped me in
Her maple eyes to
  fit any tree
Her juices of bacon
Went timber chuckle
what was on his
wooden buckle
I pinned him

Pinnochio revival
Reversal or rehearsal
Get rid of the humans
Metaphyseal, things
So gray beyond any
sea cloud seal not real
If the wood could talk his
wooden rifle bang bang

Like a red white and
wood little boy blue
missile he sang
They were in school
time for dismissal
The wood is
productive

Christmas heart of light's
seductive
Flame on the fruit bowl
they weren't
watching the
Super Bowl

Strong bones with a
wood conscience
To have swooned into a
wood puzzle

  The damsel what distress
Like a hammer and nail
Buckled her smile
wood dress
They were nose long
For the devil in the
blue dress
Xmen Wolverine

The hard talker smooth
as a babies safety pin drop
Oakwood Knight
the lock opened the
****
Pinnochio looked
Like a shocking pink

Someone lied again
Her hairpin splinter
Pinnochio how he
got covered
All white flurries
star flakes of winter

Pour the milk with cornflakes
Watch out for Mr. Quaker Oats
The wolf eyes get to you
So timid to be starved

Like his fern another turn
of the century
The rim of the goblet
on the brim of time so
sublime banged his
wooden pencil
Italian art drawing
stitched stencil

But with hesitation wood
At its best the most clever
Was heavenly touched
by God like no other
Pinnochio has a heart
He carves a smile in you
You just feel him so true

Ages passed
Eons passed
And nothing changed

Nothing changes
On matrix earth

And I went inside
The mainframe
For what it's worth

I've been
Observing the times
Since birth

Don't you
Threaten me

I sat underneath
Shade of oaktree

I'm a man
So I stand
When I ***

I want to be your
lumberjack.
I'll wear red flannel shirts all
the time, and grow a scraggly
beard like Thoreau.
We could cuddle by the
fireplace on
cold winter nights.
You can grow a garden,
with potatoes and asparagus.
We can climb mountains
and hunt bears.
I could make a rug from
it's hide, and a necklace
from its claws.
I want to be your lumberjack.
In the summer,
we could skinny-dip in the
pond, by moonlight and
make love in the
dew soaked grass.
we could have a
coonhound named Festus,
and gobs of kids.
I would build a tire swing in an
old Oaktree.
**** this ****** city
with it's treachery and
its concrete.
Lets go where the fire-flies live.
I want to be your lumberjack.

Well!! Tails or Fairytales
don't necessarily
Come to me
momentarily
Hell!! Sails or Diary-Males

Rhyming
might be
overly silly
((Goosed or Scrooged))

Or hell was bend like
a genocide
Taking Sides
Stone cold grave
There is a tree
Pretty Cherry
blossom

Well! I don't
really know
what will be me
I will live out my
lifetime near trees
Bring me back as
beautified Dogwood

Robin-hood

Oaktree Vee's for
Victory
Money doesn't grow
on trees
I Apple
Godly talk Tree
The mall shopping
I pick Cherries
She is peach
Never outreached
Papa don't preach
Trees of love disease

But tails
No gifted
Deals
Getting Meals
on wheels
suicide
Daredevil
Detective
Homicide
Sometimes what is
not real disheveled
But somehow we sense
To know what we feel
We are feeling all
rummaged so
discounted

All numbers
Deli counter
Rare find
Humanity
switch

Like a ripped
sewing stitch

Price tag $  $  $
Richly-Poor
You felt touched
Fairytale opened
another door
Someone was buying
you cut like a knife
Such a rarity steak

Every week
he bluffed
My call-
After a while
   Gamed
Puff the magic
((Red Dragon))

All Jarred
tightly in
his Treehouse
Mr. Mason
Not a person
Wagging and
he is dragging
your words

Wedding hits you
Not the fairytale sweet
Not buying his story
Chirp Twitter tweet

Chippendale Male
Dancer of hell and
glory
Doing the count
Not a smile out of
Mona Lisa
Count Dracula
Hula hoop
Robin redbreast you
know the scoop
Your hip bone
I phone

Dr. Seuss or secrets
you truly possess
I am a root
of myself
One black
number dress
Like the
Mothers womb

We were born to see the world
Teething crying but never
to understand

Congeals Fairytale of emails
Too many death suicides
What ends to begin
Uncertainty not being sure
But All or not all
It's certainly time for the call
If its a tattle tale or fairytale
I will never fall
I know I am pure
Bluest sky azure
What it conceals
when we are dying

Lampshade
Shade me Man made
Tree rare-homemade
Trees also die
But I will be sitting
around them
And smiling
about them

Spiritual Rare site
Trees are my life
They are a root
To my happiness
No tattletales
Even getting the root
of your emails
Trees are the winners
It's hard to find the
truth for what its worth
Enjoy what you have
Good earth
Or Man with stares
I will be enjoying
Who I am__
For years and years

If truly it's known,
By all hearts like tone,
Our love shall be immortan
we shall be free of slave dark groan,
And pious to the hell of love gew-gew.
Drive me whereever you want to settle,
And heal the incurable disease you've done,
To sell the chain-of-rock to our bones,
And leave the pain in our flesh,and around the cruel fireof hell.
In ****,utter a deep rumbling in a distress;
We preffer to be left alone in peace,
But?love had come to soar our peace.
Where's our destiny?sourrounded in evil aure,
we seldon see throug the mist;
The scene on a tall summer that so pale,
Across the blue sky,the white cloud float shoals,
Or?disapper and quitly sail,the wast time;
Swell and fell into dream's haze,
Where eyes look long like a lover's gaze
What time in mists shall we tast?
Calmto the battlement of enternity of love;
Unknown!
Till the sun be set;they are all gone.
Maight the timid heart ,quiet dispassionate moon?
When the agony of nightmare caurse begin,
Or,a devil that rides human soul?
Shall wondered around our souls?
AH!It's too late to goven the kid of love's soul,
For the day evil-light shouted daze,
By hopes and fear,cried our souls,
Like the shadow's flames which the sun throw,
Even,more like the shadows of lives than life's blow.
In move,yet with something beauty very rare,
Traced,do they live on slop,
Pearhaps,be of noblest hopes,
The trace of intention that maight have been fair,
For purpose,each man's action must be hidden from scorn,
Hope like nature,oaktree man's saddest,
We loom in the world without watching time,
A wast so far,dark night is near,
To flash us back to the hell,where no wind breathes or ripple stires
We wish we were given a chance to restore the unwanted past!