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jo 10h
does blowing bubbles in boba tea just make it bubble tea squared?
you cannot tell me i'm wrong
Seanathon 17h
May rivers flow into streams
And stray in whatever direction they need
In order to reach the inevitable sea
To all those that have passed me by. I wish you well. I wish you peace. I wish for you the inevitable sea, in which we all must swim. Forgive, yes, but also flow away from me.
Seanathon 17h
A touch of gold caresses your hair
Yesterday's youthful exuberance
I cut a few locks from the world
And linger in your presence, still
Wishing only that you'd stay awhile
To bask in our mutual reverence
The Blonding Hair of Trees
While  we were drunk in love..

Never did I know he was sitting on the fence....
Why sit on the fence when you could love me completely..
duncan 1d
i dont want to look at the
stars anymore.
the devil put them
on my ceiling
when god
came to visit.

unlike most stars
the light wont make me
whole. i am so fucking empty
in this night sky. there is
so much open space and
i would fill it all
with these anchors
if i could.

you should never
trust anybody. except the sidewalk
it is there when you need it
it has YOU in mind.

people will find one
million ways to break your heart.
maybe a million and one
if you give them enough time.

my eyes burn so easy in the
light, it is so far from who
i am it is so alien.

dont ever trust a wolf
or a vixen. they only
want food when you
are hungry. drugs when you are
dying. clothes when you are
freezing. love when you are

and if you show
an inch of flesh
she will smell the blood
beneath it. it is a
shallow tide in heaven
if god is what youre after.
We connected...
I trusted her to see me today
It felt like I gave a piece
of my soul away
She's friendly and kind
I really like her style
I think she'll do just fine
I will work on trusting me
More now
i was told once
as a joke
that i bring the rain
everywhere i go

i clenched my teeth
and softly laughed
while looking at them
shining like little suns

their sun-rays danced around the room
pure and free
and untainted by the rain
that was pouring all over me

i felt my eyes turn into oceans
as i gazed at the cloudy sky
while the rain was pouring down
every single drop felt like mine
i am a cloud sorry for my rain
Bryce 2d
I am showing you how god works in one way
I cannot help but think, speak, dream,
Holding life as a box of chocolates
and wanting badly to poison the dog

the bugging, nagging, aching thing
the ballbusting nature of loneliness
of solitation
"salutations, sweet girl
I am one of the many males."

We don't pick our breakfasts
We have to fight for them
because we ate a crabapple
with our balanced scripture
Now we're Mars' Barred.

I want to touch the vessel that holds you
I want to touch it gently, molding it as clay
your cheeks, rosy, adobe,
the same red as the old
Your eyes the colors of amber before it was made
The subtle breath of turquoise
The diamond-speckled rings
I want to be the emptiness that gives you form
I want to be the innate human function
I want to kiss you because you are god
and you are god that speaks.

I want to kiss your soul,
I want to feel your light
because the aesthetic of you:
A Cole Thomas in the gallery
Rhapsody in Blue, the love theme
A swan in the early autumn, seeking herself
in the reflections on the pond

I want to be the god back
The spoken voice that gave you chills
the same way you shiver on a lonely night,
staring at the enumerate stars, lining up into couples
via perspective parsecs dancing across your eyes
and pulling each follicle closer, closer--

Darling the high likelihood is that we will pass each other by
I will wave goodbye to god, pay my tab,
stumble outside
Maybe watch you disappear
listen to Adagio as the engine begins to explode
Knowing this will all happen again until it doesn't.
Bryce 2d

I hold you as the chameleon with his spring-trigger bone
Holds his tongue
And I will catch you as a fist
I will lick the stench from your odor sacks
as a skunk

All those creepy little fragments
bugs in the system;glitched codes
they are shackled souls in a microsecond arc-length
of the universal
Prodding the dirt
and the worms
as stars

How about all the spice trees?
The many different species of food glitter
they make the buds sparkle, they are thinking of the taste
of umami, of sour, of patchwork gaze
the cooked vestibules of bone
the marrow, seeping into the stew
The pepper trees are smoked
equinoctial bonfires
You and I are yet to be cooked through

A taxi in the trader joes parking lot
Big repetitive 7's splattered across its paneling
I won't forget when i'm drunk or inebriated somehow
The tree in the center of town is lit up with LEDs
Branches curling like worms

You are Pharos, you are the great celestial beam
you are the crescent moon, thin as a sleeve
and the hot taste of batter on your breath
the way you let my Guinness cool off next to the space-heater
and give me yogurt from the local townsfolk
Everything is creamy, you said.

But i don't like to hear that
It's a steel rod into my brain, that.
I am a simple Vishnu Hare Brahma
I do not have any purpose but to be enlightened
and worshiped for my powerful odors
and a four-chambered bowel
that makes the turn easier for worms.



You are the hopeless pod
the many wildebeest, crossing their annuals
through twirling water-crocs,
Lion Prides
Leopards shifting within the brush
Bacterial infections from dirty tusks
Strange metal boxes
No 7's on this side

I want to blow the fucking skulls off of anything
that aims for you, sweet mare
Will literally send chunks of it into orbit
Lion or Turtle or window or Children
The most godly thing is a bullet
And the streams of blood that will seed a new ravine
and seep the next feed of riverrun

Will you be mine, then?
don't read this poem if you suffer from ADD, or merely hate long poems

gave away 3 opportunities to a trusted someone,
a Persian poet carrying on a tradion

ask this poet of his unspeakables,
the open hidden,
received thrice, not nice, searching provocations, (idiot me),
inquiring of the souls interior chambers, where the fear to tread
is politely called in good company,
don’t go over to the dark side

questions of a thousand years, that got that way because
no one wants ever to be truly asked, and especially,
truly answer

but today's surrendering (the last of the three)
What gets you out of bed in the mornings
goes to the deadliest battlefields that millennially nourishes
and beats the blood of life
to feverish flooding that drowns you too close to real
death dangers

step to the step machine, lift the weights,
that cannot be lifted without a prayerful groan,
for surely surly poems cannot be, sleepy eyed ignored,
stepped over,
these muscle builders for the mind, these killing questions,
these shitty answers

Jeez Louise

if you are gonna ask me killer questions like this,
I may have to hide all the mirrors in the apartment,
with  funereal linen cover-ups,^
and/or publish poems that actually
pay the rent (a drag)

to steal a phrase,
what a long story this poem could be,
for one-me routinely accused of being the
arch super-villain with dirty nails,
fighting the good cherubic angels of
brevity in poetry

delay, deflect, d'ignore the irrefutable,
snap, crackle and pop goes the body's ports and parts,
when first you self-deceive,  
yeah yeah, alive, no jive, means

that still ya gotta get out of bed
by moonlight over Manhattan,
to deal with minute to minute trivia of lamentable suff

still here?

you actually want me to answer that question?

thought you were enjoying my evasive shadow boxing,
prefacing a smooth operation while escaping to north of the border

but lurking (always lurking) of late in the back of
the front of the left brain foot poetry orb, has been this word, variants thereof, saying
of me, write of me,

bless, (the) blessed, (with) blessings...

shocked? shocked?

yeah, me too.

on my mind when first we rise...

ah! counting your blessings no doubt...
now that's a thot, quite humorous, let's me count the ways

got your health?
well not really, left you hints aplenty...

peaces of mind?
sure, how many pieces you want to buy, we got 'em for sale
slightly used tarnished but organically reusable, from Whole Foods,
don’t be dumb
peace of mind can’t be store bought

No, I am not whining; I know what I got is good, but them damn poems that keep coming at night, like a fire engines flashing lights, a/k/a
them things that keep you up at night, are my habitués
but sometimes it takes months to finish a poem that
was mostly writ in a single flash
but bed born and dying
for there is no reality disclosable answer

get out of bed from

a ritualistic habit pointless

fear of living for nothing

great blessings, right?

to rinse and spit out our words of the
holy dark
for never seen the true light
supposedly that comes with you from the birth canal

(aren’t you sad you asked)

you see
I do not know
what gets
out of bed
in the morning
for I have been up all night
wondering why
I should

counting my seven days of mourning counting my blessings is a fucking curse

no more questions
^ look up sitting shiva
if want to see the other two, send me a private message
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