Tyler 1d

I look down
There is my body that is a stranger to me
I look back up
Seeing the world through these plain, brown eyes that happen to be mine.
Nothing is really mine.
It can't be.
Life feels like a dream that my soul moves through
Dragging the capsule known as my body with us.
This can't be me.
Nothing feels real
As if I will wake up one morning
And everything will
And my place, in life, will finally be mine

We with warped minds
frolicked under those lights,
hanging loyally, still
like cold, sparkling jewels
in the humid night.
"These nights are sacred,"
I would say,
and the ripe summer air
would roar
through every vein
in our

Connoisseur Of Ethnic Cuisine

Theme seems apropos during Holiday FancyFeasts despite the plethora of – in my opinion witching hunting - reputable male personalities suddenly accused of sexual harassment after substantial time. Yes granted so the unexpected name dropping felt like a bomb shell towards chaps, this baby boomer mwm would never suspect, point the finger, or accuse, especially one former Norwegian bachelor farmer from Lake Woebegone.
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Though anonymous and hardly
a substantially sized mwm baby boomer
(which dual disadvantages partly explains
lack of ubiquity among claque of cooks, yet hoop full
to get attention from some well fed dame

many popular rotund gourmands l'chaim tame
their hungry beast – wa hood put me to shame
vis a vis consuming in their one meal,
what yours truly eats in a lifetime,
none of those celery buddies,

whom this non television watcher can name
seen on any selective cable channel,
I still revel in writing while
on the hunt
   (during Red October) for a meme

poetry and prose, and decided
to introduce myself quite lame
with NON GMO marginal uptick
in any sudden fortune or fame,
yet t'would be pleasantly syrup prized
if interest
from potential mistress didst exclaim

desire to enjoy a repast, though
said hypothetical gal need
not be a high society dame,
and if perchance such just desserts

came via the kitchen maiden kitty,
versus kit chin middens
no boastful claim
would be uttered by me,
her intellectual company satisfactory aim.

If you'd love me, then tell me soon
because love is shy like the moon
it can hide
under the clouds or go away soon.

If you feel me ever; don't be shy
just tell me
not to others
because your feelings can make me
feel you better
not by others.

If you're confused in a relationship
and you can't share
your feelings with me
then it will bring you too tears
so don't be afraid
come to me right now
and share with me
your adorable feelings with no fears.

I want to be happy too
with your love
but you're still unknown to me
I would love you too
so you're most welcome to me.

she comes crawling back to me
streaks of mud-stained,
flowing like rivulets
flowing from her
dream-filled head
she swims back through my veins
she stays
cuts off all ways
out of this nightmare
of a love affair

she is spirit
weeping over all
heart stains smeared on the wall
yet I can't remember her enough
to call
her name
it's all the same
either way
she comes back to me

her softness
penetrates my hard resolve
her demons
my angels can never absolve
with my light
and her darkness
they fight
then make love
against the surrounding starkness
barren as I am now
the flowers I grow
have her eyes somehow

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