Standing
**** down
I can be
out of site
Green up
Not so much
rub in
mud run
Tree tip down
Lift me
Smoke come
Inside
Hide you
Hair grow
toes
To wear you
Hot dough
For my elbow
With Float feeling
good
Shows

However it traverses down the Channels
It’s Growing up slow that gets me
Growing up slows you down
Just wanted to see it simple
No stretch in the neck
No curve at the mouth
Just sit silent
watch lines
crossing crashing ascending descending to here, though it’s nowhere.

Done and Drowned the old buzzard
That devoured the limbs
left no more hands to fold
Save for a prayer
fooling and feverish feelings
black is still hot.
Taught me stop.
Not lighting a candle
having a holding
Just keeping a prayer
for the fooling feverish feelings.
The black is still hot.

I’ve tried for a long time but I think I can’t win
I’d do it all better if I could do it a-gain
Wherever I’m going it’s the same place I been
Ain’t it a cold, cold world
Outside it was hot but inside I am cold
The eyes of the young met the eyes of the old
And what they were thinking I’ll never be told
Ain’t it a cold, cold world
Then an old lady asked me bout this new daylight time
I said it don’t matter and she said I don’t mind
Then the bus driver said you still owe me a dime
Ain’t it a cold, cold world
I can’t get no job and I can’t get no rest
I started out east and I ended up west
And I’m so glad to be here I’m sure, I would guess
Ain’t it a cold, cold world
I might have to leave you, I think’s what she said
Wish I could sleep ‘stead of tossing in bed
And I find myself thinking I’d be better off dead
Ain’t it a cold, cold world
Ain’t it a cold, cold world

The roof has
broken off
Blown off to little bits
from its frame
I see the sun from where I sit
the floating fuzz and the breeze
If it rains i will get wet
and I am pleased.

Fire is warm gives company suppose Its happiness just for that
A boat that floats with life beneath a sky that is Full  
Always never empty
Peace to be had
Symbols that give words, my language I know is cursed
Earth frozen and won't absorb
The slip in the voyage
Too heavy  the heap  
always the price in the middle  
Always the divide
No conquest, just adrift a fire you have to feed

You like to fix things
so they don’t go to waste.
Drop the tools
irreparable damage here
rusty parts
engine combustion.
Let it go to scrap.
soul needs reformation
Aerobic treatment...  
Be unblocked by you.
Go ahead
Blame the
father, mother
But check yourself.
Mr. A+ has mud on the face.