I have always denied you this life
would be under your window. 
Before it was incontrovertible, the day
cast me out, quickly askew without bright foyers.

Confident, you concealed yourself from death
released and unsure for a feeling. Gradually, you saw a striding, fully accepting who you wrote out, thoughtless as you heard some people crumple… 

Places your ears can contain, rather not cease to avoid.
You are more than a woman without a  full body, You doth known of a wrath unlike that after.  

You are out of the church against such gain, Our senses unlike other senses eject literally. Apart from you strolled an innocent person, the cruel person you constantly listen to. 

Against you wont escape screaming with a cacophony, but call to conceal the place this isolates you outside of those noisy, throng filled foyers.  Against it isn't you what sold yourself there, released, moving certain beside conclusion. 

Leave from you not closed, You'll conceal who isn't free beside those agitated portals. It isn't nothing against forgetfulness, fragmented that against you as did lose the certainty from your unfinished.

Flee from the mundane without my feet narrowly closed.
Leave your freedom, It isn't mine to drop.  
Heralded, you are uncertain this I’ll forward a blessing you lost so freeing. 

Can't I see us whispering defeated? 
Drawn out of a desert of fellowship, oh that isn't what it numbs.
You are before some complete. 

Wont I give to you the brick you new from sprung the Macaw enslaved? 
Wont I release you very loosely and leave you out of a time when place does cease to be? Call against you the music you most certainly could

Since you prejudged me
as a Crypto-Jew
all you've done is moan
the woe is me, **** the system
"I have been through more than you"
tough chica, broken bone
I possess more wisdom
than you do
Angry, lash out
impotent hate-filled
been done before spew.
I sent a dove to stick a branch
in your bear trap
and you laughed at me
and mocked me
like the angry, hypocritical
infant you are.

From the incrimination of the whole
they gave us a paved road to nowhere
the Victorian homeless cougars
have only recently found their hearts
(undoubtedly to the honkys)
and who escaped
for the sky
was not alive
or sopping
or green

this miserable workplace
over the edge
for butcher's lines
~was not raven black
the spoons
or forerunners
(from dazzling peninsulas)
left alone
off the center
of the parking lot

the real city
of buggy stalled wanderings
~was not flesh stained
off the front of
private beaches
stood resplendent bottoms
sprung off low ebbs
for the dark world
and our fathomless silences

trumpets and banjoes
and electric mandolins
are thrown from the solitude
ear studs
and obscurity
out of the footsteps of
spontaneous supporters
the vital blood arrayed
without moonless stasis
and desert buckets

woodlands unkempt
against the mountain run
halted plains straightened
after the catch
***** martinis
and stiff bowlers
valley the single marcher
shetlands
and peasants
see clear to the horizon

When falling into a Hero Trap
always bring your First Officer.
Nuke some backwards Aliens
and you can be sure they will
get back at you with a vengeance.
Forest moons
are made for Death Games.
Bloodshed and deprivation
belong in front of the cameras.
Technology is for tyranny
and ***** princesses look best
in blood red bodices
when they interview perimeter guards.
You Will Marvel
at the spectacle
of a ******, a badass, a chubster
and a gunface
storming the set
with flint napped spears
and a hijacked  hover-camera.
Sit in spinning Jenny,
and pass me the crisps.
You touched the cone,
and Enhanced women know,
York is hot.
Somebody get the forklift,
the Biggun is down,
and the fraggin' BBC wouldn't know
a solid gold classic
if it crashlanded in their laps.
Some say he put on all the weight
after it was cancelled.
At least we got some Hot Fuzz,
and the only good Zombie comedy...
Ever.
Artefacts were made to be forgotten.
But I wont fall into that trap!

A man who is hungry
is incapable of stealing bread.
Theft is a sin of desire.
The bread does not belong to the baker,     the sunlight and soil, and the water
that nourished the wheat
belong to God alone.
If the baker is not hungry
then he does not need the bread.
But the hungry man takes to fulfill need.
The bread is not stolen,
but provided by God, to fufill our needs.
Their is no sin
where there is need fulfilled.
It is only poverty of faith
that brought him to his hunger.
And poverty of faith is not a sin,
but a most high blessing.

Early morning stillness;
geese
cut a line
through the illusion of sky.

There is more to this planet
than just the earth we stand on.

----

Midday chaos;
       -short reprieve in a city park,
The geese
hold a cacophonous reunion
indulging themselves
with the season's  temporary abundance.

----

Soft arrival of evening;
dusk rolls quietly outward from the moon's feet
Geese
trace lazy circles
above the field.

Their murmuring,
drifts up from the cool grass
through the windows of old houses
so as we fall asleep
in our dreams
we will remember
that we cannot separate ourselves
from the wilderness
we were born out of.

Stop.
Please stop,
with the little blonde
with the short hair,
doe eyes, like chipped ice,
and the tall slim blonde
with the gray eyes behind
glasses, and double braids.

Stop.
Please stop,
with the pale brunette,
with the small *******
and crocodile smile
framed with coal black eyes,
and the brunette
with the page boy, thick lips,
and perky c-cup ****.

Stop.
Please stop,
with the freckle-speckled redhead,
with the thick *** and thighs,
forever flirting with my fire,
and the cream clear redhead,
with the tight ****, prismatic gaze,
and double-d rack.

Please.
Keep them away from me.
Or I will be forced to use
what you gifted to me,
to make them mine,
if only for a little while.
Please.
Tell me which one I'm supposed
to walk with, from now on
until the sun swallows the earth.

Or, **** me where I stand.

Dear Jesus, I beseech thee.