Cardinal sun rose
blooming as the
budding flower.
Buddha chants in the
chimes of birds
ethereal caught in gradual hot wind,
Darjeeling tea steam rises on tabletop my
mind is waking over Indonesian morning.
Foreign babel as hours draw even
cacophony of hurricane horns
the Denpasar traffic drumming
chorus midst markets where
radio emitting Li Zengguang
dizi dizzily prancing into the
assortments of spice and coiling fabrics
patterns potent azure and golden
royalty brass clatter caged noise
boiling *** cries the Orient!

Overgrowth spots the charring temples
in majesty and abundance cradling the narrow
Balinese streets while tropic palm
and orchid spring swells the soils.
Ardent sun sheaths eastern archipelagos,
religious offerings canvas sidewalks
incense burning in overwhelming
bouquets of efflorescence smelling
daedal tapestries within the paradise.
Sun goes on setting the jewel easing
underneath the horizon,
butterflies sway in rest
hearts on fire
the ceremonies have finished.
Thunder shrieks against the sea
torrential rain firing on villa ceilings.
My eyes set to sleep
consciousness transitioning
between two dreams.

Still water runs deep,
But the puddle remained,
Ripple less
To take turns to look in the reflection,
of the backrounds sound that reverberates across the landscapes.
Twisted invertebrates,
You still got my back?
We’re stuck in the mud,
up until our waist.
As the sunsets' behind,
I can’t look over,
my dislocated shoulder,
blades,
slice and sharpened,
by pebbles grains,
and then
skimmed across the puddles
so only ripples remain.
Though they soon disappear,
into the stagnant grasp
of fear and statuesque
placid, tranquil times.
In a hushed halycon,
hedonistic slices of life.
Still water runs deep,
but I drown in the shallow aqua,
in the afterlife of undulation.
The aftermath of the ripple effect.

Oh what a scene
Cricket being played on a field of green
Eleven players per team all dressed in whites
What a fabulous, glorious sight
Bowlers bowl, Batsmen bat
Umpires keep the score, was he out, "howzat"
Bowlers aim not too high, not too low
Bowlers bowl not too fast and not too slow
Batsmen notching up the runs
Receiving the ball at full speed, hitting the ball to the boundary for a four
If their lucky they will hit it for six, over the boundary bar
A coin is tossed for who bats first, the losing team defending
Six ***** per over, 50 overs per inning
Who scores the most is the team that is winning
A few rules to abide
Keep your leg to the side, dont get caught leg before wicket
Bowlers of pace, try to keep the ball away from the batsmans face
If you are caught out before you score, a duck will appear on the scoreboard
A century is of course one hundred runs, simply known as a ton
Then comes a break for afternoon tea, sandwiches and cakes all freshly baked
The second team step up to the mark
For this typically English game in the park
Families attend from far and wide to watch the battles of the two cricket sides
Battling it out on a field of green, halcyon days continuing

Brown roots burn
— black ashes
The systematic crashes we’ve devised
Revised our future 
— to repeat the past
Was this all too fast?
— Too slow?
Another empty show of hands
The bands have left
— and the stage has cleared
The page has turned
— and the ink has dried
Now it’s just:
You and I
Green eyes
— Suicide
Halycon
— On and on
But now you’ve gone too far
Play the 45, and I’ll see you
— when the album ends
The bends of your lips
— your collar bones and hips —
— Your moans
Gather your pens
— and spell it out
yell and shout
— until your message is clear:
— I’m dying to hear your voice
Or maybe I’m just dying
Time is running thin
Yet time is a myth
— and death is a dream
It seems it’s time to wake up 
— for the sake of us
You and I
Green eyes
— Suicide
Halycon
— On and on.

if the dress is ripped it can be mended,

if it is shredded it can be lined

with net for strength and longevity.

*****, will wash it, iron and air it,

loosely bind into keeping,





a collection, memory

of those halycon daze.





will buy a suitable hanger.

©sbm

I - Sunrise at Futamiguara/Revealed Intent

The piano on fire/
echoing throats of crystal

Village Mystics resign their title for a quick drowning

(dream)

Wedded-Rocks tide
together while Tsunami rolls in

(Izanagi / Izanami withstand the thrashing)

Japanese Autumn
welcomed as I watch a tinted rose unfold its cloaked chaos

(wherein a panther heeds its calling)

My heart has revealed itself at last


II - Love

bristling zeal/
halycon eyes & Haitian drums
aid the muscles
christening scene-

- bridal dancer pollinates a sleepers teeth in love poems fused with salt

&labor keeps the diaphragm sky
(with pinneedle clouds) afloat

I temper the image tilled with pen/sometimes it doesn't feel enough

(the shadow devours itself)

III - Conservatory of Music/Child Complex

Each gate of heaven its own sound

each device of wrath like doorstep-

-chimes (miracle)

or a whimper dashing through a lake
(vision of pallbearer)

gas heater/
the central puppeteer is dimmed, enjoying his contemplation of the (crafting)
day

999 violet walkup,
I can faintly hear what sounds like a private fountain

   (misguided flamingos bathe here
   and die
     during ***-season
    
   (panting)
  
IV - Joyful Soul/Reconciliation

   Year of water,
  exiting the glassness

which
  once showered me in doubt
  
-remove the cause

... and discarding my obligations
(they have only been actors)

undoing-
where phoenix-mind
owes/
erudite/the staggered
  single conversation between grace & naivety/

Balinese temples smeared in
  urns
(******) ash & brass &

frame of fade (childhood) yearning for bedsheets and harmonica temperature

V - Reminder/Ocean Choir

(tiger tiger burning bright/amplify your helplessly

joyful your motion
the motion of eager
island-seashells
  repeating archaic
     imitations (meditative)

VI - Painterly Woman/Temporary Gladness/Objective in Medium

my family is
sculpted by candles countless candles
(shadow dancer)

-inhaling holidays

I nightmare
     skin emerging from my bedroom wall
the

suggested image written with higher potential imaginative range than the act of looking at a "described" moment on a canvas. As one suggests their own image in writing while as painting assumes its own image for you. The reverse transaction. One cannot author a paintings beauty such as one sculpts the image from ink. Both are as immediately beautiful. Different mediums for different objectives (or rather methods we use to achieve this objective)

VII - Unattainable

Pine drum;winking
fashionable clothmats
copulate for silk and ever purer
silk
ever purer
(silk)))       the child universe

will bleed like
gardenbed

(amen/doldrum/amen(doldrum) amen)

VIII - Spring

Aware (zen taste) - moment evokes a more intense, nostalgic sadness connected with Autumn and the vanishing away of the world

This is the unbinding of words
as my terrific dead lover of disaster
put it-

(Somehow the unforgotten
name remains lavish, after all this reconfiguring, the infertile soil we attempted to escape,
the shade we hid in once like a peacock's coat, somehow the name, your name

remains clean)

All these self-inflicted rules
are ripping off your existence,
making you a box, chained up,
in some rusting cage.

Anna, I know people aren't all that pretty.
I won't forget when we sketched mankind.
He was too fat to move, too drunk to talk,
and too proud to back down.

But do you really think you need the rules,
to keep yourself superfucking cool?
I've ****** on your fingers,
I've listened to your secrets,
I promised I wouldn't fall in love with you,
but of late, I decided that was a dumb rule.

Anna, we were made for straight lines.
The circles will only sink us into the ground.
Progression, constant evolution,
patterns and conditioning are for the typicals.
I want halycon evenings,
just talking peaceably under the blanket,
and if we recieve an invitation,
no matter where it's to,
there we'll go.

A collective soul isn't impossible.
It is only reserved for the least
frightened amongst us.

Unchain yourself,
Anna.

Today marks the birth of Spring!
             Sun Ra says so,
Halycon Jazz and
            desire blooming from a blossom's womb.
Glass tower apartments line the waterfront ignited by the
            sun's shy arrival.
Birds have become more public in their idling and a
            schizophrenic joy has flowered in people's heads.
Shining
showered
tended root
           the horn's bellow in all directions,
windshield wipers shall have their hibernation
          while this garden city constructs
a new tune!
AND A SMALL BELT OF LIQUID LAMPSHADE IN THE SKY!
                                                         SOLVENT!
                            HEARTBEAT!
         Weather's cleared up, AT LAST!
The candy-shaped hookers of Rock Bay can draw their laugh-on-lips
        and straighten themselves
to Patience and Prudence's “A Smile and A Ribbon”
A man outside a gas station one block down the street from my house
        can get his cigarettes and quell his KICK
to the sound of clouds evaporating.
Today marks the birth of Spring!
        Snow's wet corpse made into a child of yesterday
I'm in my 20th ******* year, I'll grow more inspired as it hits April
  
  KAMIKAZE PAINT
                                          RABID POET
                                                            ­      PAVEMENT TRANSPARENT
              All of it is H A P P E N I N G
                              this FORWARD CONDITION!

I'll lay in bed reading my books on reincarnation and
“Meditation: A Practical Study” (Adelaide Gardner)
while I finish the last of the Winter's wine.

Reason for my smile
  I can't stop for a while
Nights made
Days better
Inner beauty lasts forever
Harmarita,  Smitten, to the maxxxx
         Cures my ilness
         Gives me hope
       Confidence I can do it !
     I do it in his name
         As though he's in front of me
      Halycon
         Rapture , helll yea
Words tangible towards me heart <3

if the dress is ripped it can be mended,

if it is shredded it can be lined

with net for strength and longevity.

*****, will wash it, iron and air it,

loosely bind into keeping,





a collection, memory

of those halycon daze.





will buy a suitable hanger.

©sbm

I'm a lucky girl
        U know why
       Because there's a guy
      That I like ,
         He likes
                             me back
     Now what are the chances of that
                    happening ? :)
          Flirting time on occlude on
             All parts of my body
         Introspective is bright
            No dissent
               A sidle here & there
                Halycon !!!!!  Yeee Haa

I lived my early childhood and adolescent years,
dreaming.
Musing about how when I grew older,
I would accomplish anything and everything.
I was so giddy about living in this perfect world,
that all the imperfections flew right by.
Because in those fantasmal dreams of mine,
I saw bright swirls of colors.
Hues of green and blue.
shades of yellow and colors like cerise, pink, and orange.
They danced around me.
They stirred inside me in a halycon manner.
Bubbling up so effervescently
like soda pop tickling the back of my throat
Nothing could break me away from your high spirits.
That was until I turned a little older and received a soupcon of reality.
And for the first time I felt...lost.
Confusion began to nibble away at me and I became afraid.
Because one by one my dreams slipped away; out of my reach--my grasp.
And all the imperfections in this world that had once flew right by me--now hit me in the heart.
And I had no choice but to face it.
I wouldn’t be able to fantasize any longer.
Like I wanted to.
Because reality had arrived at my doorstep.
And as I watched my amazing dreams fade away,
Ashes began piling up in the back of my throat,
And  dark clouds of gray and black suffocated me.
I wanted to escape it all,
Maybe go back to the utopian like fantasy I had built in my head,
That was far better off than reality at the moment.
Because this moment was all too surreal
The navy currents swept me under and carried me away,
and these became the tints of my broken dreams.

on a crest of a wave
she rides on halycon days

I met a traveler
Form a game that can't feel
Maze lives in the belladonna leaves
Icarus turn those wings into rust, gold my ashes, my medical soul on my broken boulder
It's so tough to be a better person, like a world-less prisoner
He' my life, oh ye my breath take lazy life, got your head on a dinner on the spirited dinner
He needs a talk, for a typewriter
my life caught on to you like a pushy burrow
Childish dreams left in the grateful lackadaisical
With the bone, breaking with anticipation
,left with mad lake and the angel singer
I end a badge to marker my badge oh wise sinner
With orgiastic life, within the graces of molasses that malice
Novena, we art thou in the Garrett in the chalice
If you take me on a holiday on the sun
If you are breath, take my life away
In kindness as gesture, is frenzy and the freak that reasons
The lad that takes our pries away, and our judged prairies
The laughter takes the ostensible mad cap, in the praises of June and July, April's frugal rage and jejune nature
often the hen and the cage go away together, as we live in the setting sun of the rooster day,
We need you to fight this right, where halycon coniferous trees tease the bullish flags, in the wasted landslide
Take my breath,  toast my roses and my your tassle for my gown
And the glasses on the Mildred, chicken, toad, gully boy when we fell in love with a pastor
I search for gist
I find your head in the list
What's you number on coffee town, and the gestalt of the grocery roses
I love, I loved my hips to marry your handles
The plumber said war is hell on the falling doltish to the emanates scent with nature
I'd w03space
I want your festering war, not your love I want your litter
I want the sun, but you got the iridescent garrisoned moon in your eyes instead
I like the rain, to hide the clouds
A simple heart to warm the clouds
A thunderous clap to start the rage, Harrison the ark
The years of twenty slaves
Brought rage
Often his life will be taken, and take hath will
Portage him in leeches
Beseeches to turn into an earthworm, some parts still made
Us so ugly, but, so evil
us so beat, laughter turned endlessly ugly
Your so hello together, in the farewell of Novembers of rain, there is the year of the Marks, the coin of Allegiance
Brought down the heart of the JD Town
I really never, take the path that lead
The speak wilting flowers, friends that fall with the start of gully pads
Deli pads, that Galahad brought on boughs and stare
Here and there
Stare and stone roses, stony ******* turned to red earth
Take my rain, Singing rain burn my world's fire
My hearts bleeding to earth, but, my mind wants your flail thistle, whistle
Whistle, with the wind, resonant stars with the innocent picture

Peace is always, innocent picture is peace
The protest march laughs at the approval of consolation
Is your name a falling star,
is your mandrake root cat, hot innit roof your name in fallacy, and I can't have your name.
But, I want your toys in the yard.
Maya, In a torn nation good clothes are laying baby's than a cold lie in the heart of darkness.
If you leave your **** on, I want you to leave your hat hanging.
****

Look at what the cat dragged
In with it was bad luck
And some ragged claims to fortune
It's a lot like a feeling of dutch courage
And fallacious achievement which has defined the age
Of the enlightened
Makes the darkness slightly surreal
Adumbrating all of that darned cat's trophies
I guess I'm a lot like that cat
Who is smart and in revelry
I'm glad I'm superstitious
In this interstitial space where black cats
Cross the asteroid belt
And the umbra of some galaxy
Causes panic in us
Like bad luck, we believe in
Scion of some badland exists in the far off celestial body
Which might disintegrate us
In surmise, we are inured by the cosmic ballad
But, things have changed
But, karma when will you change my mind
I often wonder and my sepulchral thought dissipates
But, my faith remains
My faith like a watered plant
In this vast existential philosophy of what is sustaining us
Or can I live without Earth, wind, and fire
Maybe, I might die in the elemental phase of contingency
Where my ruminations have no effect on the vast causation
Where my contemplations are just a glimpse into the past
Like the metals that coagulate after they reach the surface
Halycon indeed, if civilizations aren't decimated by the volcanic will
To catch a falling star
Some of us are walking in the moonlight
When will we leave this Earth
Spiraling into the cosmic culmination of thoughts and reality
The dreams are a fine line between action and incantation
So, when is the night right?