I took everything
all of it.
Ischemic tangeniency had offered
me the souls of my Christians?
I deferred to poetry and rhapsody.
Like a Vampire Weekend concert.
Oh, without magic wands,
or tutilage of mystery.
I took everything.
It feels like an ancient rain.
Like an old president as our king.
He and she had to tell a few lies
before death and then took the
truth to sleep.  She of course
was a Bonaparte, and he of
course was from Oxford.
He wrote Frankenstein because
of their affair, she wrote the
crowned prince a diamond of Hope.
And his family lied in the mote.  
From the Battle in Boston, to the
French and American and The Seminole
War.  How would I ever know that
crossing the Patomic ment
King George the Third
lying on my floor.
To this day, I swear
The First President
of the United States
is the King of England.  

How dare you? Know the truth.  
He wrote the whole book
and that we had taken
everything they want
as an Oath.

The fret removed
from music,
the takamine rouge.
I had to pull the frets
remove them from
the bass.  A fretless bass
from top to bottom,
a very note trued.  
But the weight
its gone
from the tune.  
Hours upon hours
spent on 50 cents in
silver.  I said fretless
bass and they left
untendered.  
Oh, the tether
do they hang.  
As St. Jude proclaims...
"There! Shame!"
All of it do I play,
as do winged instruments
of this very day.
To due, I had too.
Say, his majestic melancoly.  
On two Harvard Squares,
I say,...
I had too.

She held it
all of the feathers;
all of the hell
that ever mattered.

The curse
thee accused
the allegations
of a child abused.

Sry, cold, nightmares
of the very old.
In a pen, in embrace
all of the fear
all of the hate.

"Right, with me!"
"Write, with me!"
Every new dream,
write with me
using the dragons flame.

Red, blue, green,
the very chartruse color
of fame.  No swords, no
hard words, no martyers
do we stir.  

And mask all of the dead,
with the life of every word.
Left unsaid,  He alleged
that I had proved luster
to remove his head.  

And the mask stays
as a true love of words
wonderful words we shared
in stead of our lovers bed.

Write with me! some....

She wears a mask
hiding my fear
when i ask her to remove it
she hides it with a tear.  
Under porcelain
and in her hair
I find poets as do dragons
hide in lairs.  
And woman moves the mountain
as I make the mask of despair.  
If missing her is as a missing word
that moves from her mouth.  
Owed and due
to trust her pen
as it cuts as a sword
like as it does curse
all of her men.

As I review the periodic table of elements
I have resorted to some thing so Idiotic
That the scientist have adored the relevance
of some infantile youthful designation.
I wondered... if one hydrogen atom
became two in what state,
what would two hydrogens be in another state.  
Shiftless bonds, or double 0 eight.
Is H2o oxygen or is it O2 in rain drops.
How exactly do I love your poetry.
Do I breath as do tears fall from my eyes.
Are we all spying in on the great love.
Does a capitol L make us doves?  
Ive never had such a crush,
To turn down.  How much of a hug
is a lie to another friend.  Ive had so many
affairs. That the friar asked me to spell affiar again
aware of a fraudien slip.  
I listed turned and down again I went as
I listened to my mother speaking to frenchmen.
The diety, the diet, the destruction of language, I just
stood there smiled and again I said... I wish you knew
what you were saying in Latin as the
holy spirit convenced him.  She said in uncertain
latin, the angle (angel) condemed us to understanding demi gods
and taro cards from matter to benevolence.

Many words, so many words, are passing through this place.
Broken latin, mesonic virtues, old english lymricks,
ancient jewish pronuciation fliting phenomenal prosody.  
Life as all the proper words begin to shape this grandly
generous thought of commendation.  Roots, roods, rudentary
lauded buy more spies.  The plura, fauna, Jane Does and Rae Me's,
fosil laute... prose.  
En angle', in english, Angles and Jutes, as the rapier, pugio gladius,  
a bloodless synopsis, a canon, feathered conical lye.
Sui-hsing chide us naught for German and German's is to Chinese is Tzun Zoo Choo Yen see.  Their angels roll away stones, here men open doors, women pointe out stars to fight the bold, Oui Ye.  
Write two poems at once, or lie.  Write three poems at once, or lie.  
Oh, yea we write three...
poethree.  Oui Ye, Oye yea, O thee poets... we right thee.  
Austerity, Whiterby, Bastoniwa,... Red Socks and resident bee.  
Add comments, if Any.

Like some goofy lisp.  
Like left over from Surrey to Essex.
Lycan, Omish, with some Roudy Rawdy Piper.
Like a WWE event, no ropes in the ring and a whole
bunch of cheerios.  
It sounded like chweer wee ohs.  
I got England to laugh out loud.
We were all laying on the floor hoping
fuhat bassthard would gooh on a diet.
Like Van Gogh and his buddy whats his...
knuck knuck.  Painting pictures of Marshall
Islanders for a vote or veto.  Paul Goin and Vincent
Van Gogh sharing a lisp.  
Sthounds like..... Ah gawd!  
Shut up you sobbing limp noodle.
Try writing something we all can laugh at.

Humor me Socrates with Albert Einstein.  
E equals MC squared.  
One part energy, a mass constantly squared.  
Cheerio old chaps.