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#san
Tua madre era una volta bellissima e molto carina Quando era giovane Ora, tu sei come bella e sofisticata Come fiori in piena fioritura È la tua primavera È la tua bella stagione. Stasera, sei attraente Come le rose primaverili Sei luminosa, persino scintillante Come stelle giubilanti È la bella stagione Oh! Donna, hai ragione. Sei in perfetta forma Superi ogni aspettativa Mi ringiovanisci e mi fai sentire viva Quando ti vedo, il mio cuore batte con grande forza Sei una donna bellissima e tenera Con un occhiolino, mi accarezzi l'anima. Sei bellissima come tua madre È la tua primavera È la tua bella stagione Sono l'amante tenero e effascinante Che cerchi, cara amica Poiché il tuo sorriso elettrizza la mia anima e la mia vita. P.S. Traduzione “Une Belle-Mère, Une Belle Femme Pour la fête de la Saint-Valentin” Di Hébert Logerie Copyright © Febbraio 2026 Hébert Logerie, Tutti i diritti riservati. Hébert Logerie è autore di numerose raccolte di poesie.
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Feb 11
Feb 11, 2026 at 4:04 PM UTC
Una Bellissima Suocera, Una Bellissima Donna Per San Valentino
Tu madre fue una vez bella y muy seductora Cuando fue chavea Ahora, tú eres igual de bella y sofisticada Como las flores alegres Es tu primavera Es tu bella época. Esta noche, tú eres atractiva Como las rosas de la primavera Tú eres brillante, incluso luminosa Como las estrellas jubilosas Es la hermosa estación ¡Oh! Mujer, tú tienes razón. Tú gozas de perfecta forma Tú superas todas las expectativas Tú me rejuveneces y me haces sentir viva Cuando te veo, mi corazón late fuerte Tú eres una mujer hermosa y tierna Con un guiño, tú acaricias mi alma. Tú eres muy bella como tu madre Es tu primavera Es tu bella época Soy el amante tierno y adorable Que tú buscas, querida amiga Puesto que tu sonrisa electriza mi alma y mi vida. P.D. Traducción de “Une Belle-Mère, Une Belle Femme Pour la fête de la Saint-Valentin” Por Hébert Logerie Copyright © febrero de 2026 Hébert Logerie, Todos los derechos reservados. Hébert Logerie es autor de varias colecciones de poesía.
0
Feb 11
Feb 11, 2026 at 1:10 AM UTC
Una Bella Suegra, Una Bella Mujer Para San Valentin
Buon San Valentino, cari amici. È il giorno per prendersi cura l'uno dell'altro E dove dobbiamo tenerci per mano L'amicizia è importante, l'amore è importante La famiglia è importante, le buone maniere sono importanti E anche i fiori sono importanti, fratelli e sorelle Non essere troppo arrabbiato Perché il cielo non è blu Godiamoci la rugiada del mattino Non essere troppo triste Godiamoci il clima freddo e soleggiato C'è neve qua e là, ma è dietro l'angolo È primavera con aria fresca e un mazzo di fiori L'amicizia è importante, l'amore è importante Ci sono scintille di fuoco d'amore nell'aria Godiamoci la stagione dell'amore, della pace e della cura È tempo di camminare felicemente mano nella mano Insieme cammineremo, insieme ci solleveremo. P.S. Traduzione di “Joyous Saint Valentine’s Day” di Hébert Logerie. Questa poesia è dedicata a tutti gli innamorati del mondo. Copyright © gennaio 2025, Hébert Logerie, Tutti i diritti riservati. Hébert Logerie è autore di diverse raccolte di poesie.
0
Jan 26, 2025
Jan 26, 2025 at 6:54 PM UTC
Buon San Valentino Cari Amici
Everyone needs a fan. Some earn their living from fans. Some despise them, yet still do the things that attracts them. My city attracts fans. They come from all over the Plain. Their favorite writer lived and died here. His wife still occupies the only home the writer ever owned. He's buried in our local cemetery. The headstone isn't fancy it bears his full name, his years on earth and some boxing gloves. Though all the stories I've ever heard said he always fought in the streets. And two words. "Don't Try". Fans often leave beer cans, wine bottles, cigars and cigarettes, notes and printed copies of his work. Which to me is all fine except when they decide to visit after hours and leave their messes behind. If you come here seeking to catch a glimpse of his home and maybe even his wife. You will only see large old Sycamore trees and giant palm fronds that hide his home like a Gisha's silk fan across her face. If you don't already know where it is good luck asking any of the locals. San Pedros always been a rather ruff port town the place where sailors and ****** came to spend their money and test their skills. They'll lead you all over, up and down streets similar to his with its Royal Palms lining each side of the block. All poking their fronds towards the heavens a hundred feet above the L.A Harbor. When you come here you will be welcomed with white California smiles but when you start asking questions about his ivy hidden classic Los Angeles Spanish style villa with its fruit trees and grape vines. We'll first tell you to please be respectful which will only help convince you we are telling you the truth. Before we write down directions sending you to the wrong place. That's how Hank would've wanted it.
0
Apr 15, 2022
Apr 15, 2022 at 12:03 AM UTC
Home of the writer {Where the poet lived}
Everyone needs a fan. Some earn their living from fans. Some despise them, yet still do the things that attracts them. My city attracts fans. They come from all over the Plain. Their favorite writer lived and died here. His wife still occupies the only home the writer ever owned. He's buried in our local cemetery. The headstone isn't fancy it bears his full name, his years on earth and some boxing gloves. Though all the stories I've ever heard said he always fought in the streets. And two words. "Don't Try". Fans often leave beer cans, wine bottles, cigars and cigarettes, notes and printed copies of his work. Which to me is all fine except when they decide to visit after hours and leave their messes behind. If you come here seeking to catch a glimpse of his home and maybe even his wife. You will only see large old Sycamore trees and giant palm fronds that hide his home like a Gisha's silk fan across her face. If you don't already know where it is good luck asking any of the locals. San Pedros always been a rather ruff port town the place where sailors and ****** came to spend their money and test their skills. They'll lead you all over, up and down streets similar to his with its Royal Palms lining each side of the block. All poking their fronds towards the heavens a hundred feet above the L.A Harbor. When you come here you will be welcomed with white California smiles but when you start asking questions about his ivy hidden classic Los Angeles Spanish style villa with its fruit trees and grape vines. We'll first tell you to please be respectful which will only help convince you we are telling you the truth. Before we write down directions sending you to the wrong place. That's how Hank would've wanted it.
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22
we walk beneath the weight of the outside birds sing in tune with the collective & trees reveal their 50-year-old whispers homes along the way glide above the sunshade in-between blanketed shadows and sidewalks covered in gum neighbors swim in the darkness behind blackout curtains their beds balance on cups of bedside water & a yellow candle glows above the city
0
Mar 31, 2021
Mar 31, 2021 at 1:55 AM UTC
City walk
I am sending a parcel on its wings, Be careful when you open it. It has full of beautiful things inside, 108 of waves, you are searching for. The true colours you love, wrapped up in a blissful layer by layer, our doorway to knowledge path, Expounding the absolute power, As committed and receptive naturally. The parcel I am sending you, to say how much I miss you. Holding the heart- " the mystical heart", Where you always remain, beautifully inside it. I am sending a parcel on its wings, Be careful when you open it. The remaining just flower for you, the way the potters wheel is, Opens up various levels of perception, Everytimes puts out, when it silence, gets hurts. I am trying to be flower for you to your potential, external and largely fortunately internal. I am sending a parcel on its wings, be careful when you open it. Better to maintain conducive atmosphere Is called KAVACH, create a cocoon energy inside, That simply transmit that you wish. The parcel , it has , things inside, full of beautiness That you had initiated into meditativeness, generating receptivity , you transmitted into me, In a short time, as a doorway to knowledge. I am sending a parcel on its wings, Trying to praise your emotional integrity, Whatever i send, be careful when you open it. The beautiful things inside it, The thought Quiet powerful transforms spiritual process. Starting the aware of kundalini with the help of ganapati. I am sending a parcel on its red wings. Grounded bases of balance emotional issues. For reduction of anxiety to energize your powerful spirituality. With another parts of parcel on its orange wings. Which help you to open up for the feeling of Maintaining harmoneous relationship together. Because of human beings being empowered with this. To promote your beautifully things, self confedence and To be continued effective manner in which you are travelling miles and miles, See in this parcel. I am sending a power with its yellow wings, Be careful when you open it. It has full of beautiful heart , the mystical heart.. On its green wings Having full of love , kindness, experiencing compassion which you opened a balance of sympathetic love. During our conversations. I am sending a parcel on its blue wings . When you open it carefully, you will find positivity, Singing a song that you most love. It has also contain a indigo one called 3rd eye Helps you to visualize inside And connected the way the path of spiritual heaven. I am sending a parcel on its violet wings The crown you will find, When you open it carefully. Enjoying with spiritual connections. Creation of emotion, bonding meditative path. Melt completely wisdom. Leaving probably me alone In the world a path spiritual Where we will be reunions Our soul again and again.
0
Dec 22, 2020
Dec 22, 2020 at 10:53 PM UTC
Parcel of divinity: chakras
I am sending a parcel on its wings, Be careful when you open it. It has full of beautiful things inside, 108 of waves, you are searching for. The true colours you love, wrapped up in a blissful layer by layer, our doorway to knowledge path, Expounding the absolute power, As committed and receptive naturally. The parcel I am sending you, to say how much I miss you. Holding the heart- " the mystical heart", Where you always remain, beautifully inside it. I am sending a parcel on its wings, Be careful when you open it. The remaining just flower for you, the way the potters wheel is, Opens up various levels of perception, Everytimes puts out, when it silence, gets hurts. I am trying to be flower for you to your potential, external and largely fortunately internal. I am sending a parcel on its wings, be careful when you open it. Better to maintain conducive atmosphere Is called KAVACH, create a cocoon energy inside, That simply transmit that you wish. The parcel , it has , things inside, full of beautiness That you had initiated into meditativeness, generating receptivity , you transmitted into me, In a short time, as a doorway to knowledge. I am sending a parcel on its wings, Trying to praise your emotional integrity, Whatever i send, be careful when you open it. The beautiful things inside it, The thought Quiet powerful transforms spiritual process. Starting the aware of kundalini with the help of ganapati. I am sending a parcel on its red wings. Grounded bases of balance emotional issues. For reduction of anxiety to energize your powerful spirituality. With another parts of parcel on its orange wings. Which help you to open up for the feeling of Maintaining harmoneous relationship together. Because of human beings being empowered with this. To promote your beautifully things, self confedence and To be continued effective manner in which you are travelling miles and miles, See in this parcel. I am sending a power with its yellow wings, Be careful when you open it. It has full of beautiful heart , the mystical heart.. On its green wings Having full of love , kindness, experiencing compassion which you opened a balance of sympathetic love. During our conversations. I am sending a parcel on its blue wings . When you open it carefully, you will find positivity, Singing a song that you most love. It has also contain a indigo one called 3rd eye Helps you to visualize inside And connected the way the path of spiritual heaven. I am sending a parcel on its violet wings The crown you will find, When you open it carefully. Enjoying with spiritual connections. Creation of emotion, bonding meditative path. Melt completely wisdom. Leaving probably me alone In the world a path spiritual Where we will be reunions Our soul again and again.
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63
His name resides on my heart like "SAN" ''SAN'' sino-atrial node That generate maximum no of action potential On my heart... By rhythmic contraction... 🎀🎀 When other name i found like that My heart rhythmic contraction increases... ''SAN'' moves up and down Due to this i feel restless sometimes. 🎀🎀🎀 But after that his name resides on my heart like''SAN" By din't of this i live today My pacemaker "SAN" 🎀
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Aug 10, 2020
Aug 10, 2020 at 2:24 AM UTC
His Name🎀
Behold San Gabriel! the far mountain is stunningly ascendent the city's smog dissipates into a a welcomed hiatus white glaciated peaks bespeak nature’s regency a City of Angels’ crowned in a mystic halo once again Thunderous roads are silent highway death tolls nose dive life expectancy for the driven grows Mother’s cry a million less tears Tollkeepers palms are left wanting For the uberites the celestial scales of supply and demand have tipped gas prices in our favor A litre of petrol costs but a few pesos cars roaring down side streets coating curbs with noxious exhaust has stopped Street running stick ballers eye 2nd base manhole covers as safe to steal again Some have been granted A reprieve from a harried life vexations of frenetic ways dwindle The welcomed respite of downtime Salves a bruised and battered soul We’re invited  to dip our toes Into small pools of leisure time Escape to a hobby’s fascination luxuriate in childlike frivolity Time has opened for families An evening’s repast is holy communion The wholesomeness of a home cooked meal Manna from heaven our daily bread We share a sip from a cup of salvation Climb up slide down some shoots and ladders Gingerly remove a funny bone Without the red nose buzzing Spend time in Abuela’s old kitchen Learn her secrets of family recipes Passed down from ancient Borinquen forebears Challenge creative sensibilities Let the muse whisper a song Into your willowy ear Draw a portrait of a loved one wash a buena vista watercolor Compose a poem of perfect simplicity record the glorious fictions of family history Place yourself at the center of its epic struggle Go noodle a tune on the old upright Dust off that old guitar and flash some new hot licks Take out the bongos and bang away The blues are routed for another day Sing a family circle song where Daddy sings bass Take an afternoon nap, let the cat purr you to sleep Enjoy the escape of an afternoon delight Than walk the dog afterward in warm eventide twilite The skies are resoundingly silent Gushing engines contrail plumes gone Jets blessedly overthrown by silhouettes of crows on the wing Listen to a new meditative lullaby, the splendid symphony of avian adagios Plug in to your body electric Learn to breathe as deeply as you love Listen to the rhythms of your heartbeat And fine tune the condition of your soul Eschew usurpations of politics And tyrants that cajole to oppress Seek solidarity in common citizenship Take refuge in the courage of integrity And dwell in the unity of the holy spirit May a pandemic of love consume you May your crisis open a portal of grace May the closeness of friends and family Restore you to a much better place San Gabriel Mountains beckon His halo crowns us all stirred by the trilling trumpet Wholly affirmed and filled We answer his call Bob Dylan: Thunder on the Mountain Puyallup WA 4/21/20 jbm
0
Apr 21, 2020
Apr 21, 2020 at 4:12 PM UTC
Behold San Gabriel!
Behold San Gabriel! the far mountain is stunningly ascendent the city's smog dissipates into a a welcomed hiatus white glaciated peaks bespeak nature’s regency a City of Angels’ crowned in a mystic halo once again Thunderous roads are silent highway death tolls nose dive life expectancy for the driven grows Mother’s cry a million less tears Tollkeepers palms are left wanting For the uberites the celestial scales of supply and demand have tipped gas prices in our favor A litre of petrol costs but a few pesos cars roaring down side streets coating curbs with noxious exhaust has stopped Street running stick ballers eye 2nd base manhole covers as safe to steal again Some have been granted A reprieve from a harried life vexations of frenetic ways dwindle The welcomed respite of downtime Salves a bruised and battered soul We’re invited  to dip our toes Into small pools of leisure time Escape to a hobby’s fascination luxuriate in childlike frivolity Time has opened for families An evening’s repast is holy communion The wholesomeness of a home cooked meal Manna from heaven our daily bread We share a sip from a cup of salvation Climb up slide down some shoots and ladders Gingerly remove a funny bone Without the red nose buzzing Spend time in Abuela’s old kitchen Learn her secrets of family recipes Passed down from ancient Borinquen forebears Challenge creative sensibilities Let the muse whisper a song Into your willowy ear Draw a portrait of a loved one wash a buena vista watercolor Compose a poem of perfect simplicity record the glorious fictions of family history Place yourself at the center of its epic struggle Go noodle a tune on the old upright Dust off that old guitar and flash some new hot licks Take out the bongos and bang away The blues are routed for another day Sing a family circle song where Daddy sings bass Take an afternoon nap, let the cat purr you to sleep Enjoy the escape of an afternoon delight Than walk the dog afterward in warm eventide twilite The skies are resoundingly silent Gushing engines contrail plumes gone Jets blessedly overthrown by silhouettes of crows on the wing Listen to a new meditative lullaby, the splendid symphony of avian adagios Plug in to your body electric Learn to breathe as deeply as you love Listen to the rhythms of your heartbeat And fine tune the condition of your soul Eschew usurpations of politics And tyrants that cajole to oppress Seek solidarity in common citizenship Take refuge in the courage of integrity And dwell in the unity of the holy spirit May a pandemic of love consume you May your crisis open a portal of grace May the closeness of friends and family Restore you to a much better place San Gabriel Mountains beckon His halo crowns us all stirred by the trilling trumpet Wholly affirmed and filled We answer his call Bob Dylan: Thunder on the Mountain Puyallup WA 4/21/20 jbm
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98
If You Come to San Miguel by Michael R. Burch If you come to San Miguel before the orchids fall, we might stroll through lengthening shadows those deserted streets where love first bloomed ... You might buy the same cheap musk from that mud-spattered stall where with furtive eyes the vendor watched his fragrant wares perfume your ******* ... Where lean men mend tattered nets, disgruntled sea gulls chide; we might find that cafetucho where through grimy panes sunset implodes ... Where tall cranes spin canvassed loads, the strange anhingas glide. Green brine laps splintered moorings, rusted iron chains grind, weighed and anchored in the past, held fast by luminescent tides ... Should you come to San Miguel? Let love decide. Published by Romantics Quarterly, Poetry Life & Times and Muddy River Poetry Review. Keywords/Tags: San Miguel, vacation, summer, love, affair, cafe, cafetucho, anhingas, cranes, sea, tides, bay, moorings, green, brine
0
Mar 23, 2020
Mar 23, 2020 at 12:31 AM UTC
If You Come to San Miguel
I surveyed the scene about me it was our first camp base and out tents were in a field a guide pointed out It was raining heavy and I and this ex-army guy ran towards our tent and once there we clambered inside and zipped up They say the rain in Spain he said but didn't finish we could hear the rain hit the canvas above our heads there was little room in the tent to do much so we lay on our sleeping bags our cases unopened by our sides I mused on Miriam and wondered who she was shacked up with ex-army spoke about his time in the army and his mother's new boyfriend whom he loathed and I hoped the rain would soon stop so I could get a beer and burger with fries from the cafe in the main building and find Miriam but it rained still and I listened half-heartedly as Ex-army got on with his dismal speech and I wanted Miriam but she was far from reach.
0
Oct 4, 2019
Oct 4, 2019 at 3:49 AM UTC
First Base Camp San Sebastian 1970.
From the entire peace can see a power Brings out a beauty would stock the soul Highlights the strength with your smiles sun is spreading lights Seeing your smile warming the soul to open life enough. When you have peace from entire enough Opens the smile for beat of next breath. When you smile, power me my power smiles Shows a glimpse into you from entire peace When your smiles comes from entire Saves my day, breaks my peace Nothing is powerful as moon shines When you smile the stars blink Unbelievable turns me to your presence When your smile in your inner express Speaks me your perfection of peace Saves my day, tells me to be alive with Every times smells staring entire Encourages the sense to beat my breath shows the beauty of peace in that smile Wish to lost melting soul within you within this piece The clicks of your smile makes my night Gives me the light even in dark night I can feel the vibrate of your smile Makes me deeper and deeper and deeper Closure and closure every time you see Inspiring to be deep into this smile Vibrate the heart , paint into spirit As to make you Murali Madhuri in your smile Makes me to be a poem watering The beautiful words to experience perfection from your image Feels as painter painting your picture In my heart in my soul When you smile my world regains Its peace and happy I realize why I exist To remember the happiest of happy. The peace of entire peace with your beautiful smile.
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May 9, 2019
May 9, 2019 at 6:09 AM UTC
Entire peace: Beautiful smile
a lovely person , caring; and sensitive... I don't even think , wonderful things, To your eyes blow warm moist. The tension almost, draw attention, Drop of eyes with full of tears, Conveyed the message, Telling me you are sensitive.. Waiting a way up and down Flaming lips inside out Taking long breath with a hope Used to say, am i good? Inspire me easing warmth, Used to say to my soul onto you I look deeply into your eyes, into depths, you were unknown, Taking you, into a knot. Wish never loose the notion, Knowingly unknowingly You consumed me slowly, With a breath, telling me, You are sensitive!! Never break, a slice made, I am consumed inside you , feeling warmth setting me, ease the length tightening the knot, Telling me never break , Eyes out, tongue sleeps, you are sensitive!!!!! You are sensitive!!!!!
0
Jan 23, 2019
Jan 23, 2019 at 6:54 AM UTC
You are sensitive
the extermination of the straight white male soon we will be gone and the remainder carried over into zoos for “safekeeping,” our DNA and ***** harvested for science purposes you will be pitched advertisements send $ to San Diego Zoo so they can save the few remaining white rhinos (which they neglect to mention are in preserves in Kenya and the Sudan, but send $$ a way) and the last three straight white guys (surfer, techie, and an aborigine) to preserve the species so the world can modify their cells to stop sexism, racism and other male diseases gonna maybe mate them with the rhinos, which will be expensive cause of all the rhinoplasty, so send me some money, money, money yup
0
Aug 25, 2018
Aug 25, 2018 at 4:37 PM UTC
the extermination of the straight white male
Shadows move with my feet on the cobblestone from the sunlight dancing on the picado banners that stretch between buildings And offer some reprieve From the Texas sun. The mouth-watering scent of pan dulce Draws children to the glass fronts of the old bakery, And they flit between sweet breads And figurines of brilliant colors Crowding stands run by elderly craftsmen and women with big smiles- San Antonio, There’s something in your streets. Something binds me to your old, leaning buildings, And the murals that decorate them, San Antonio, My first memories of reading Reside on 600 Soledad Street between the shelves of the Big Enchilada, And dapple down through the glossy, colorful limbs of its Chihuly spine. You exist in the border between coastal plains and the hill country, Mesquite trees and palm trees living side by side Just as the German and Spanish settlements do, The missions becoming as much a part of the land As the Guadelupe. With tequila on my tongue, And boots on my feet, I’m prepared to bask in the warmth absorbed by sandy loam And breathe in the smell of elotas on a Sunday afternoon To the sound of San Fernando’s bells, Oh, San Antonio… I’ve never wished for a better dwelling, Even one with cooler summers And smoother streets, Oh, San Antonio… I’d be a fool to leave you, To call another home, And I’ve never found myself foolish before, So my dearest, sweetest, most proud San Antonio, I am here to stay.
0
Jun 29, 2018
Jun 29, 2018 at 11:45 AM UTC
The San Antonio Way
a misty start with worlds to go a walk through forest, desert, snow with altitude and dizzy joy a challenge which my strength employs a peaceful summit waiting warm where thought and poetry find form from near the sun our minds turn to worlds below we will return -TylerN @ 10,040 feet, 2018.05.12
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May 13, 2018
May 13, 2018 at 5:38 PM UTC
Mt. Baldy
where ancillary with Sara on hill made wheels spin the tires and burn their tracks when demons are dire spirits that lift their hanse in Bay Area mother's musical chairs and children wrest souls
0
May 11, 2018
May 11, 2018 at 6:58 AM UTC
Wipe Ashbury
thank you for teaching me how to love; now that you broke my heart i can go and give it to someone who knows how to love me in ways you never could
0
May 6, 2018
May 6, 2018 at 3:17 PM UTC
what i didn't put on the letter
Let's talk about this jazz club that lives in my cellphone in 1950 something with Chet Baker back from the dead. Let's toast to random notes taking flight into the city in the middle of nothing nights we've known or been familiar with. Let's shake hands cordially with the unfamiliar as in "deal", or "peace be with you" as if in church, tipping hats at that stranger passing by at the crosswalk some late evening in spring alongside dandelions sprouting forth from the pavement. Let's read between breaks of beats Kerouac must have hit in 1950 something San Francisco in yelps into the moonlit stages of the balcony of his boxcar boxcar boxcar gone by in a mad blur with whatever graffiti'd message of hope it bore on its sides. Let's hitch into the unknowingly infinite by way of the pen's mighty point. Let's unlearn the way syllable by syllable and demolish languaged signs like hurricane force candor blowing down fact-ory made terms and political decorum as smoke from the pages of their corporate handbook joins the Chet Baker solo note pilgrmage into the holy skyline. Let's move side by side unspoken as those jazz notes he forgot to play. Let's fill in those blanks with uninformed confidence beyond our abilities and grasp the unsayable names of our dreams remmebered. Let's see in seconds passing like bums inebriated with the holy moments gone too soon. Let's talk about nothing but this sacred second at hand on this clock unseen pointing overhead to the face of the moon gone full and hungry for attention. Let this happen only now. Only then will we talk about where it's going.
0
Apr 14, 2018
Apr 14, 2018 at 12:44 AM UTC
1950 Something San Francisco
Let's talk about this jazz club that lives in my cellphone in 1950 something with Chet Baker back from the dead. Let's toast to random notes taking flight into the city in the middle of nothing nights we've known or been familiar with. Let's shake hands cordially with the unfamiliar as in "deal", or "peace be with you" as if in church, tipping hats at that stranger passing by at the crosswalk some late evening in spring alongside dandelions sprouting forth from the pavement. Let's read between breaks of beats Kerouac must have hit in 1950 something San Francisco in yelps into the moonlit stages of the balcony of his boxcar boxcar boxcar gone by in a mad blur with whatever graffiti'd message of hope it bore on its sides. Let's hitch into the unknowingly infinite by way of the pen's mighty point. Let's unlearn the way syllable by syllable and demolish languaged signs like hurricane force candor blowing down fact-ory made terms and political decorum as smoke from the pages of their corporate handbook joins the Chet Baker solo note pilgrmage into the holy skyline. Let's move side by side unspoken as those jazz notes he forgot to play. Let's fill in those blanks with uninformed confidence beyond our abilities and grasp the unsayable names of our dreams remmebered. Let's see in seconds passing like bums inebriated with the holy moments gone too soon. Let's talk about nothing but this sacred second at hand on this clock unseen pointing overhead to the face of the moon gone full and hungry for attention. Let this happen only now. Only then will we talk about where it's going.
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7
Altamont was her ravine but her rock leave rift if timber drove her away but stove  verse finally where she's mine but her arm wore circ when carpool get through this frothy hollow again
0
Mar 9, 2018
Mar 9, 2018 at 10:39 AM UTC
hand-me-down
I've gone there why in matter of sands and if taken this photo when hers flash in mine this cartoon gosh was her *** vehemently shone inside the cove that the bulb would entertain
0
Feb 16, 2018
Feb 16, 2018 at 6:10 AM UTC
Farnsworth
I catch myself daydreaming, about myself but living In another world or an alternative universe I think of all the possibilities That you and me could be Of all the scenarios Where our paths would come close I think of what if I was a San Francisco native? Or what if I had build my life in Paris? When would we meet? When would you fit? Because if I'm resurrected If I come back from the dead I would want you, guaranteed Ain't that some greed?
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Jan 16, 2018
Jan 16, 2018 at 1:29 AM UTC
Greed
Come enter the darkness Come witness a monster, a man Of features of a rare creature With a clear path for a seeker With a life of a greeter. Stay warm in this cold world with heater Away from the gangsters and strippers. Join the growers and hipsters. Free like in the Castro and Mission. Always in the corner, being a loner, getting high like a stoner, being awake unlike an employee and being free. Don't you see the system of delusion where they draw the conclusion but it's time take back the power and find a resolution And lead to a revolution
0
Dec 4, 2017
Dec 4, 2017 at 1:35 PM UTC
See through