"cooky" poems
picky
teaser
lota
pizza
flamingo
burnin'
gerhkin
wordin'
processing
pro
gramme
lots
a
purple
tan
tanging
tongue
tear
stupid
deer
croissant
croissant
croissant
(are you here?)
rich
and
faming
silly
daydream
little
cupid
castle
cooped
chicken
kickin'
malicious
software
(are we there?)
yet
cooky
suki
mikky
mopy
skiing
slopy
tear
out
control
shout
doubt
pout
trouble
double
choc
tim
tam
ginge
sortafairy
tail
of
a
bat
rat
smack
(should we pack?)
and
CRACK
goes
ankle
blowing
soccer
flowin'
talk
tak
no
silly
silly
silly
all these
years
(should I be crying these tears?)
hello
again
a
pen?
why
thanks
some
lunch
punch
crunch
an
ankle
swollen
ready
all
flail
fall
(?)
May 22, 2013
May 22, 2013 at 3:43 AM UTC
With time there's nothing visual. . .
Only things. . . due after some fact. . .
What we consider is most purest of things. . .
to some, it's just white hurricane crack. . .
I consider myself. . .
With time all illusions. . . set to the side. . .
Life is pure. . . without a blanket of time. .
We consider,. . . we all make it in rhyme. . .
Someway . . .or another. . .
The world is got so much more then to bother. . .each One another. . .
Then to share with joyful expression,. . . that time but allows us. . .
To the fullest extent,. . . time as illusion. . .
Can only make more then one self,. . . then the other one melt. . .
Getting spanked all around. . . All the crazies do us by belt. . .
What **** is the matter,. . . has time cut into your butter. . .
Greasing up all the streets,. . . boiling off all intelligence. .
Even speaker who shares with the world with poetic intelligence,. . .
thats love to the life. . . . with the time with his neighbors. . .
Such life is a streamer,. . . streaming through time, . . .
time of one's life surrounded by steam of another. . .
When we cram on one another, time is illusion. .
running over. . . creating a fusion. . .
one from another creating confusion. . .time is illusion. . .
To look at a counter, less fulfilment then want her. .
Because time as illusion. . . invades escape from this cooky confusion. . .
When eyes set bound to imposter, your dream in reality. . .
always forming when time is without a solution, . . .
just letting it go. . . unfurls deep worlds we've only just known. . .
beyond in time is the scape. . .where numbers be running. . .
a world out of shape. . . If time was a matter. . .
To please all our moods. . . this world would be great. . . but The world is so great. . .
all musicians we are, i promiss you know it. . .we flow around with each other. . .
But time has concealed her, to even distinct, the sound of the peaceful. .
Where sound is a stink. . .to even consider, where **** did we all go. . .
looking for clocks, on rocks and a mirror. . .
Time grieve, be a mirror. . For only as far as it goes, you'll never see her. . .
If time is illusion, our minds won't confuse her. . only to melt with the extra minute on clock. . .
To consider every moment,. . . . time is illusion. . .that every moment is just a matter of memory. .
In each other, and in some. . . Some parts are for bad, to refuse on the good,
and some parts are for good to refuse on the bad. . .
Positive time is our best, with time. . You forget its illusion when roaming galant and free. . .
Far from illusion hidden behind, there is a consorted of sorts. . . . misery. . Time is illusion
Oct 18, 2011
Oct 18, 2011 at 8:42 AM UTC
Dissatisfaction from the real
Longing for the fake
Blurring the real and the fake
A deep infatuation that excludes the real from my life
Longing for a lie
Cooky and charismatic
Reflecting ambitions and desires
Love and devotion taking it for granted
Suffering apathy for life
The inability to accept the new
Living in the past
Drinking my problems
Letting them out with the wrong people
Does God even exist?
Does he love me?
Oct 25, 2014
Oct 25, 2014 at 10:39 AM UTC
****** that's good poetry!
Consonants strike like hot cooking fat on bare skin
Nouns flowing; a Jimi Hendrix riff
..... Or maybe it was more like Clapton?
Digress
You're welcome.
Glad to know that when blood spills
Some lands on a page. Making...
A ******* Nah,
That's cliche and lazy assed
More like those Japanese ink paintings
Before those cooky Catholics showed up? Ish?
smooth and elegant lines in spiraled mountains and heart monitor tree Scapes
I'm Hercules on your own Queen of gods teet (congrats on the great ****** Milkyway!) spilling that good bluesy verse on the
W.
W.
Dot
I've bled you dry for years, "warrior poet"
You're welcome.
Jan 25, 2017
Jan 25, 2017 at 1:53 AM UTC
I've got an old tale just for you
Not that hairy *** hanging thing
Something brand spanking new
I am a little bit crazy
But once you know me
You will see how I fly with one wing
Now to the tail we shall go
Waving left and right, to and fro
Sometimes fast and sometimes slow
A lot says a tail, oh they bellow
But not with a voice oh no no
With the to and fro shows the flow
Now isn't this interesting
A tale of a tail, should I say more
What was I thinking
It gets thrown around and rubbed on the floor
Of what domain am I now sinking
You can't tell me? you don't know?
You've followed this entire show
Oh, it's ok I'm just cooky
Here just forget it all and have a cookie
Sep 21, 2014
Sep 21, 2014 at 11:26 AM UTC
Our love as glorious as a multi coloured butterfly
Came out of the Blues
With strength as Zion and I wonder what a lion
I thought I found home after i eat the cooky
I came all out of my favorite melancholic cosmological way of life where I found peace within.
Come out of your shell you begged and I did, your abiku love really made a mark
Even the blind can see past your babilonic drama which I was myopic to.
Yes Helen of troy, was no human nor God. For her actions was of non
You I see no difference
Why plant a tree only to one day cut down.
OH Babylon goddesses, you will never have a second troy. For within me not far in you I would find my peace again.
So go tell Aphrodite of Cyprus I have a Zion.
Sep 20, 2016
Sep 20, 2016 at 7:30 AM UTC
I’m the cracks in the ice geist
The thief in the night light
The reason you can’t even go to sleep
When you’re hype Skype
The read it and write sleight
Of hand with that left heist
The best and brightest western spittin’-Spetnaz platoon type
The jungle, it’s coming
Oh, they want you there runnin’
That whole backwards crazy cooky communally-driven country,
That refuses to bow,
To the lion’s lie crown,
Because the tigress is the Ganga
And she’s watered this ground,
With cheetah archer princes blue
Through pacifistic aestheticians
Who still burn to the moon,
To feel her Saraswati peace of mind
Evoke the monsoon
Feb 6, 2018
Feb 6, 2018 at 10:16 PM UTC