I feel pretty and soft,
Like a jasmine flower
Blooming with fragrant power,
Feminine and unique,
No two alike in pale white and pink,
Harnessing, absorbing
Sweet summer light,
The rich scent of jasmine
Carried aright,
Weightless and pungent,
Expressively existing.
I feel pretty and soft,
My presence caressing and kissing.

I'm crazy about you, in that I'm sure
you set up my day so I can endure
you correct me and guide me, to take on the world
it's easier with roadmaps that aren't so ****** twirled
pretty sure I would stagger, when I walk out the door
but with your wise guidance, I'm ready for more

Brian Hill - 2020 # 166

my father was a
pretty perfect guy,
beloved by most
and especially children.

He was a ‘gallant’ (gaaa~laant)
of european extraction,
who tipped his homburg
and greeted everyone by name,
forgetting none and
who was related to whom,
or their distant cousins
in Kansas City,
with whom he stayed
when he was a
traveling salesman,
in 1933.

My only complaint,
was and remains,
he never went with me
to Yankee Stadium,
saw the emerald green
diamond miracle
in the Bronx hidden,
as he, small businessman,
worked six days a week,
and had no time
for juvenile sports pastimes,
otherwise, he was my
All-American…

Otherwise, he was perfect

And the world really did stop.
Haulted at its hinges by an indescribable force.
It steamed and chimed like a machine.
Attempting to break from it's shackles.
Attempting to breathe.
Trying to continue being.
It did not work.
The world was frozen in its feeble grace.

And the world really did stop.
Children turn to men when he went.
Often they viaied for his affection.
Beging for praise from him.
As would to their father.
We worshipped his every move.
Praise his inhuman brillance.
He was a picture of perfect.

And the world really did stop.
Life went on without moving forward.
I could only look behind me now.
Knowing the world won't ever be the same.
Others tried to fill his shoes.
Yet only managed to prove his perfection.
I was there once.
In the midst of my imperfections disgusting nature.

And the world really did stop.
I struggled.
Tosing and turning.
Trying to forget.
And remembering even more.
You face filled my head.
I wished I was dead.
Then kept it quiet.

And the world really did stop.
My mind find solace in another pain.
Trying my hardest to refute the truth.
I spent my days inside my own mind.
Trying to find reason.
In the silliest rhyme.
I'm losing sleep and time.
Contemplating a self destructive crime.

And the world really did stop.
Instead of tenderness for other.
I began to care only for myself.
I hid in the safety of my horrid head.
Escaping existance but not acknowledging it.
I begun to believe in fallacies.
Keeping them inside my heart.
Loving lies in order to avoid cries.

And the world really did stop.
Sweetly in the night it paused.
His boiling blood turned cold.
An arch angel was stolen.
Sweeped into an eternal night.
I live now in an infintie freight.
I do not deserve to cry.
He did not deserve to die.