By Arcassin Burnham

Flustering hair in the wind,
Better than sitting around getting high all day,
Red lipstick on the lips,
You look so divine,
The females like it when I know everything about them,
That sparkle when you smile,
The rise of a brow when your excited,
Hide your face in your palms when your shy,
Things in this world couldn't be any more artist,
Even your features inspire me to draw 250 different blue and pink butterflies,
Monday through Friday I see your stress,
You say ,
I pull you from that reality,
Guess you needed someone smart to tell you the truth and all this mess,
I can just see them flying now......

It hurts to understand the notion,
you are free in ever motion.
I find fault in disillusion,
yet I fall,
and fall again.
Success is a driving,
flustering factor;
My life is hell without it.
Your ordeal I cannot reach,
nor analyze,
nor evaluate.
So I fall,
and fall again.
I'm not a lover anymore,
fighting is my mantra.
The energy I prosper in is of perpetual defense,
because of what I've done to myself.
Being a poet I should understand,
that I have problems as well as everyone else.
Yet I can't but help to let apathy,
possess me again,
and again.

The person behind the screen
Whats does your voice sound like?
You're just a picture to me
What goes through your head?
What makes your heart beat?
You're just a picture to me
What inspires you?
What gets you going?
What makes you tick?
What do you find frustrating?
Flustering?
You're just a picture to me
To the person behind the screen
I'm curious

.
So many ****** birds,
Grey, brown and black,
Suited as they sully in sun,
In feather and windy-speak
And dream, drifting to profit
Points, marring the globe,
They have so many ways
Of singing on their swings
Behind bars, murky birdies,
Gawking in the crowded fields,
Fielding, flighty questions without
Answer, winging all souls to oblivion,
Who fly, flustering, dusting with song
Twisting the air into pure falsehoods,
Curious, grounded pets for kingdoms,
For masters, fly-hoping in their cages.
.

He see’s the way she looks at me
Her eye's full of sin
A sin that is nice to me
He wants her so

He lust’s to feel her touch
Don't know how to feel
Feelings flustering around, like a poetic soul
He can't help but to enjoy her

He dream’s to have her in my arms
One day I hope to
Feel her love
She means everything to me

My Silence is so loud
Bad thoughts stuffing my head with black clouds
A storm is brewing
Anger, anguish, and agony is spewing
The wind of despair is blustering
All my happiness and blissfulness is flustering
Why is silence louder than thunder
My whole body is starting to shudder
Bolts of Lightening full of my blunder
Are causing me to flounder
My silence is so loud I can not abstain
This is no summer rain
It’s a tropical storm
A typhoon full of pass sins and sorrow is starting to form
I can’t take any more
Please sun come out I can’t handle this brain storm
My silence is too loud

(revamped, retooled, and reviewed for the mad council).

Admiration and kudos to quick as
greased lightening witted language
mongers gifted with means to deflect,
stave off, or thwart venemous, sacri
legious, pompous,et cetera lethal
impacts delivered chiefly to ***
*** in ate character, degrade, ex
Cory ate, where deliberate hefty
insult bruited viz zit head via bit
ting acrimonious gloating by some

trumpet ting twelfth knight, Mar-a-
Lago dwelling, Don Juan, Cassa
nova interloper ideally to be met
and taken rite off guard with cutting,
fitting, and incriminating scythe leant
taste of bitter pill as bad medicine
measure for measure, which earns
repartee deliverer at the least (cut
ting to, the quick principled litter
a chore thieving magpie klepto

maniac maven anyway) raising
the bar, per how can eye whip up
a creative reply to ward psychic
bruises as would be confirmed
by an x-ray evidencing sharp black
Amy Lloyd Barbs lobbed my way.  
Plight reiterated and described again re
phrased as mine good humor hum
dinger mew zing ct-scan reveals
(outsize funny bone) pinpointing

tiny thesaurus sim card firmly
permanently embedded, where temple
(my Mansfield) binds as the Great
Chaim Yonkle yiddish alt pun stir Perry
Como crooning se yammo, a friendly ****
mum exchange (minus jet lag) oye vay,
boot how novel, if I could wit
ness (or personally experience) quick
lightening rod quips would come to me
rescue (supercalifragilisticexpialidocious),

but generally, honestly and indubitably,
this flustering rhymster, who with bluster
brownian movement attests and accepts
slow moving cogs and wheels of his
aging noggin normally, notoriously
and nominally NEVER nsync with
nearly top notch national scrabbling
Facebooked bountiful brigands, this
will never happen to utter trail blaze
zing, nail biting, and hair raising awe

some adage, badinage, and/or  persiflage
more likely than not, mum hindlacks
proper cerebral mechanism to dream,
and get linkedin exactly at  prime time.
An absolute beauty of a doozy, flapping
like a ******, hypothetically intimated be
totally tubularly groovy, man and find
me a bit woozy with flickr ring shutterfly
twittering wii zing hacking, joyous, and
kindling euphoria asthma sign us would

go thru roof of mouth boot opportunities
foregone to daydreaming after serious
lapse of time, yet speculatively, and in
sum re: prime tete a tete would spring up
to parry, defang, and blunt puncture of
mine  psyche (imaginatively zinging red
zinger, would be one for the record books),
sans right on cue, rapier jabbing (yet art
fully crafted), an unusually timely resip
rick cal sparring touché (leading com

petition, by my itty, bitty ditty), witty
award winning smart riposte would a
rise supremely after incidents arose from
circumstance, yet twin next opportunity
passes, the critical moment will slip,
away suspecting sanctimonious sham
rock leprachaun spiritedly skewered
lucky charms finding me wishing the
means existed to conjure an instant replay
all to often when recipient of unkind word,
taken aback sans ideal return synaptic salvo.

amongst the flustering frost of winter  
a seeping in my bones lifts a splinter

of icy flurries choked in refrained regret
a spiced hushed whisper i’d never forget

with a vivid sweeping spring arrives
and the twittering birdies begin to fly

where mere mortals tromp and trod
lies an untouched flower in the sod

to uncover inside wandering conclusions
the scattered blooms lost in their confusion