Two of salt
Have a heaven, have a done
Wrent with the times, a unison fault?
A picture of silence, when you have a question?

What is salt to a weary heaven?
Claim the door, or make a fruit a sovereign future
We have the sulking, the tradition of when art is the question
Can a hardier nuance, become the notion to endure?

A picture of paradise?
Promises and privilege, to greet your decisions
Of waiting and fating the stare, opus hopes is wise
So to a form in choices void, is a wakeful two, intimation?

Of a welling conscience, and the first of many kinds
Of wishes for, and taken with impressions visit
Medians or tedium, a rule of voice is to become our mind
A sake, with tomorrow on its nerves, and the rest of the future for wit

Creating the art of hours, a wishing order to worth
Is a raging held in honor or contempt?
Longing for a masters stroke, can a sharing candor, leave us with certain...
Ours of heed, and curiosity, to be a show of what life lent?

The mastery of a premonition
To work the magic of the age, a host's place and or confirmation
Come by the senses of another, to speak the truth of intuition
That has become the pout of romantic powers, a vision of a generation?

Wasn't, not was...
The tale of entertained innocence
Speak of the devil, is all of a heed, a buzz?
Long times with a pretty eye, that took on the proverbial since...

Honey, and a summary land...
Sent to a rhyming breeze? obscure was a noble they
Venting irony for a risen dance? welcoming mercy at hand
Baring the shall's comment to a calling? secrets with prettier eyes, may...

Talking with the burden; so adroit, of a banal instinct...?
Has focused another's eye on the problems of home...
Heavenly couth or the curse of happenstance
Has welcomed us, not the spoil of demand, but a wish becoming some...

Wealth, versus wisdom
In the pity, we fight like aristocratic futures...
Found like a stricken conversation let, to complete and win
Salvation of a peace; is ours for question we made, to purity...

But, where, is the fun in that...
Save your hug first, for a rolling presence of sharing a loyalty
Simple as pie, a black bird has spilled the beans, a royal isn't...
That is the cough of dependency, for a soul with or without, simplicity?

Good morning, angel
How was the nights resolve, sleepy philosophy till the end?
You awoke when a silence was early, the hour given to little...
Loves and daring decency, of a waiting hope, to make your liberty a host to render...?

The patience you show, and the embarrassment of should?
A showing live of simpler sorts, with the count of shadows...
Persistent little cease and desist, approval of a nary come would
Without a friend for hap, from here to eternity with a spoken said:

Wishes that play the part
Wishes that compare final luck, to a promise that seems to keep
Wishes that rued the irony of poise, into two parts of art
Wishes that sake a divine course for the breath of a season's leap

Of succinct chances and flowers that gave the wonder of solitude...
Somewhere, the poignancy of a shared idea, if not the dragon that made you...
Is a weary hindsight, that has sat on the laurels of worth, like a shoulder
Your care for these, meant and lent with virtue, has juice to please?

Solace subsides when this
               day gains ground.

But like storms passing
        a new day ebbs closer,

                           to the weekend.

Green dream .


It's all about you little child smiling with glee
It's all about me being bold and playing the drum out loud
Why can't we see why can't we see
We live on the ground and we wear shoes to move us around
We go to places that we've never seen and at night we might dream yes we might dream of where we have been
You know what you've seen
You know where you have been
But in your mind it's not how it seemed in your dream
It's all about you and what did it mean
It's all about me and my eyes are attracted to green attracted to green attracted to green.

there's something vulnerable
about your *****:
babe - whenever
I watch that pepper bush
I become vulnerable
and all I want to do
is to finger the moist bases;

there's something vulnerable
about your buttocks:
babe - whenever
your warm ****'s in my palm
I become vulnerable
and all I want to do
is to dig into the honey vases;