“kitty”. sixteen,5′ 11″,white,*******.

ducking always the touch of must and shall,
whose slippery body is Death’s littlest pal,

skilled in quick softness.  Unspontaneous.  cute,

the signal perfume of whose unrepute
focusses in the sweet slow animal
bottomless eyes importantly banal,

Kitty. a *****. Sixteen
                            you corking brute
amused from time to time by clever drolls
fearsomely who do keep their sunday flower.
The babybreasted broad “kitty” twice eight

—beer nothing,the lady’ll have a whiskey-sour—

whose least amazing smile is the most great
common divisor of unequal souls.

The river drolls on
never stopping. Just rushing along.
Some stones stay stuck
in it's muddy bottom.
Others flow along with the current
never stopping to look back.
As sure as those stones,
stuck in the mud, protruding
from the chaos. They one
day too will be, either worn or washed,
and will plunge into the current
were they belong.

for a  cute girl  post to get
hearts galore
I just think of all the hard legged
drolls and dredges drooling over her
my girlfriend pointed out to me
how I was more apt to plus a pretty thing
and now that I look at it she was right
and she is pretty too, so I kind of
get jealous , but I see the dudes side , too
how to balance poetic justice on a hard leg is hard
and goes through the small brain first, I get it.

Life looks like a bed of roses 
to the anointed souls
Thorns beneath to some exposes 
makes them laughing drolls

So many colours of this world 
many paint to match
Many see their success curled 
starting from their scratch

There are yet some others 
seeking for their brothers
risking to go all around

Facing storms of courage
spending great leverage 
on humanitarian ground

Dream to rise 
to touch the sky
is not a poor man's tea

With all the hardships 
then you know it
you weren't the one to be

Born are some 
funny lucky ones
Riding on other's horse 

Praising high of him, 
polishing him with cream 
taking his throne without loss

Mysterious, misty 
with mazes everywhere
Many become beasty 
and many do not care. 

I fall in group of hardship, seems
creating own golden lucks
Making ways to make my dreams
travelling on bumpy tracks

Digging hard earth, 
looking for gold 
Working with dwellers, 
in hot and in cold.

Ups and downs, 
plains and stoney 
are my life-roads 

Deserts and hills, 
for heard earned money 
I move with heavy loads

Romance under starry night 
Auroras fill my lovely sky
This dream I see only in sleep
Thunder, rain are real for my keep

All come and leave me and go, 
in my humble life 
To go beyond I wish to know
how I need to drive