"jets" poems
Summer morning -
pink jets of clouds
splash out
from the golden well of the east
falling just short
of an ebbing moon.
Streams of swallows
flutter and glide
over the garden -
they are all flying
in the same direction
as if erupting
from the sun’s waking pulse.
Just for a moment
one of the birds hangs
perfectly still -
like the top-most drop of water
from a fountain before it turns
to face the glittering pool.
Beneath them all
the hummingbird
makes her rounds
and a dove scratches the earth
below the feeder
keeping an wary eye
on the scribbling intruder.
So many summer mornings -
too many summer mornings
I have wasted
worrying about the world
and my place in it –
absent from my own body
and breath
the cage of my ribs
rising, falling, and pausing
without me. Meanwhile,
another swallow
stills her wings.
Buoyed by an unseen breeze
she is both feathered sail
and cresting wave as she slices
over my shoulder bearing west.
Tom Spencer © 2015
Jul 4, 2015
Jul 4, 2015 at 12:16 PM UTC
After dark, energies flow in manners that pleases them most
braided together in lust, two king cobras were seen spiraling up
when darkness like a camouflage sets in thickly around,you're
the marijuana of my mind, seeking far horizons of pleasure.
I willingly seek oblivion, when pink pointed goosebumps
like tarantula's love bites, results of mating time cruelty
infest all over my body's landscape, signatures of ecstasy.
I feel your lips become, moist, soft, honey from each drips
never enough,for me, is it possible to get inebriated more?
Your sighs and moans speak the vocabulary of a forgotten
ancient language love hurriedly resurrected for us from past,
brevity is the crux of that lingo of erupting jets of desire,
it teaches you to moan in fifty different tones in all;even more?
Your sharpened nails etch cave murals on my itching back
that has the searing taste of blood, in hot hot chilly red.
my taste buds of lust, begs for more and more of it.
You are the marijuana fueling my narcotic flights that land
in your misty land, enveloping my senses as a whole.
"The night is still young, hear what the darkness whispers"
I hear you speak like an oracle, on things about to happen.
Jan 8, 2016
Jan 8, 2016 at 11:50 AM UTC
And now there would come a time
a swift sharp clock on the bed
Blaring its little chime in between the hard bells
Like an angry little arm
Charming if not for the alarm
And everyday I slap the face of it
Like an unwanted *****
And she is silenced
Quick unlike
Said chick
But I am a cruel guy and have no sense of wet and dry
Nor cool or heat
There's nothing bothering me
Time just ticks off and I laugh at it
But my cells divide and turn into little old protoplasmic men
And yet I am not called upon them
Because they are stupidly designed and I have no sympathy for arts and crafts
No masterman
who failing to raise his hand
Clams up
With such poor artwork
Slap that ***** in the dilapidated sistan
Now In San Francisco
Where the alley streets stink of ***
And the European facades are just that
Crumbling
Poopy
And full of ****
And what yet are they dreaming to be?
The church that survived fire
Great conflagration
God didn't make a rainbow at the end of that,
Now did he?
He's a water-sign
Dolt
And water only jolts your mind
When it scatters true light,
Ain't that right?
But it's all the same
Just different hues
And the news
Isn't new
Just Blaring and yelling
And speeding television crews
Riding their stories
Up and down the many stories
Trying to build a city of angels
On a bituminous hill
Shills
No life skills
And I walk the city streets with a ugly old leather
Brief
Casing the joints and rolling my own
Unhappy and alone
Kerouac and the dreams on the monangular input where the triangular avenues meet
And he has no road
While airplanes shake their jets on the tarmac and trebuchet into the air
Going god knows where
Seeing a new piece of the sculpted pinball
Perpetually trapped in the machine
How bout Nippon
Or Hangujin
Or Han Chinese
Or Berlin
Anywhere but when
A little ways along the state
Of "in"
All these strange things
Aug 16, 2018
Aug 16, 2018 at 3:00 PM UTC
**** this civilized **** I am set, like an object. So don't object. My eyes on the prize like my future subjects. All these haters is suspect, I pay them no respect. That's how a King treats his subjects. I blow minds like lare jets-- then take marks and get set. It could be the bad or the ugly, l'm as good as it gets. I'm raising the bar like I'm working my pecs, working hard, baring arms like I'm funk master flex. I'm laughing so hard it's hurting my chest. instead of getting money I'm enjoying my wealth, weight a couple rounds, then rise up in belts. My Dawgs underdogs, like we training vets. I weigh the pros agasint cons, then Shakakon like I'm K. West. Extend my arm and drop a bomb when this mic turn on. My future brighter than prospects, standing on Prospect while the Sunset waiting to get it on
Jan 4, 2015
Jan 4, 2015 at 8:45 AM UTC
Let me tell you about something I saw the other day,
when I was out walking through a field of hay.
The night was quite pretty, the air crisp and clear,
when I suddenly encountered a cat who was drinking a beer!
I walked a little farther and encountered some mice,
sitting around a card table, all playing dice.
The mice looked quite serious, they all dressed like thugs,
I was dumbfounded, and simply stared down from above.
Then I saw something that completely blew my mind,
it was a variety of animals, dancing in a conga line.
For hours and hours and hours they danced,
more animals joined in, even deer came to prance.
This party was larger than any I’d seen,
a couple of badgers were even smoking something green.
“Innocent” deer were snorting lines off of snakes,
and a couple drunk farm dogs were fighting with rakes.
A cat and a mouse were sitting in a barn,
entirely too drunk, they took turn telling yarns.
From across the field, you could hear an owl retch,
while a gaggle of geese slurred “Benny and the Jets.”
Sheep laughed, “Bahaha!” while dancing on tables,
the horses were getting it on in the stables.
This party was crazier than any I’d attended,
a pig even ended up losing an appendage.
As the sun came up, things started winding down,
all the cows went home, and the "Keg King" took off his crown.
I took this as my cue, it was time to depart,
so a couple mice and I hitched a ride on a farmer’s cart.
"Sayonara!" I yelled, "It's been lots of fun!
Everybody get home safe, try not to hurt anyone!"
But enough about me, let's talk about you.
That was my weekend, what did you do?
Nov 2, 2012
Nov 2, 2012 at 11:55 PM UTC
I had Joe Willie from jump. The Jets were off the chain
Baltimore benched Johnny U cause he knew the game. And played it too.
The AFL was full of bells and whistles.Speed kills
Three yards and a cloud of dust. Get real coach. We shootin rockets to da moon. High tops . Cmon pops.
Change the guard.
Them people ain't done nothing to me said Ali.
Da Nang ain't my thang. He was the greatest. Still is.
The Haight was great. Oh yeah Kent STATE.
1968. Open the gate to the house of the rising sun.
Joplin. And Jimmy. Marvin and Tammy.
The Doors and Hair. ****** in the air
What rhymes with Agent Orange...... Nothing.
Oct 4, 2012
Oct 4, 2012 at 1:16 AM UTC
Took the 17 down nicollet
Passed the City Center
Passing time
Passing men on the streets with an open guitar case
Passed the kids with their skateboards
Passed the guys covered in ink playing fight night on the street
Fifth street
Yellow cord
Brake peddle
Bus stop
Sidewalk
The sharks fight the jets
Romeo goes to Juliet
Old men with canes talk on their cell phones
Nicollet and 4th feels a little heavy tonight
11:47 comes my bus
Down 4th ave
Passing time
Passing the former home of the Twins
Passed the cops with their lights on
Passed some kids in their visors
Red light
Doswell street
Yellow cord
Brake peddle
Bus stop
Sidewalk
Out on the street
Street lamps glow fluorescent
New moon fixed in the stars
Tilted, slightly
The tweakers stay in the shack down the block
They’ve got the rocks in their socks
And they’re sleeping on the carpet
Welcome mat turned over
Shades drawn tight
And an icy cold feeling runs in their veins
And they roll back into a dream
Apartment building
Stairwell
Door 10
Living room.
Sep 18, 2012
Sep 18, 2012 at 4:22 PM UTC
I was thirteen when I broke my wrist for the first time,
Miming Cinderella Man's fists as they jabbed faster than jets through the sky.
He was blue collar, blue jeans, blue bruises and blue eyes;
Waiting for his chance, and then taking it by the blind-side,
He taught me the meaning of a left hook to life and coming back from behind.
I was raised on Cinderella.
She was thirteen when daddy read her the tale that first time,
and she grew up wishing to be Cinderella, miming her words and her stride,
She wore blue dresses, smoked blue crystals, cried blue tears with blue eyes;
Waiting to be saved by a prince with blood bluer than money could buy,
Cinderella taught her to sit back and wait for her princely perfect guy,
She was raised on Cinderella.
We were raised on Cinderella,
We were twenty and change when we locked blue and green eyes,
Mine had darkened to green by that eye-locking time,
Life tends to darken things; It's just how it goes, and when mine
took that hue, things were no longer so blue.
Because even though we were both raised on Cinderella,
Princesses and Paupers don't find love; When they do it isn't "true"
Because no blue crystal smoked could cloak the pain and disguise;
No fairytale magic can hold back real tears from real eyes.
My Cinderella was a prize fighter;
Her Cinderella was the prize,
but the stories are different, and in the end, both are lies.
Jan 23, 2015
Jan 23, 2015 at 4:03 PM UTC
Rain dancers
Children bring forth
The deluge
Joyous and ****
Boogie away the heat of our Cebu
Wash away the grime
The worries of Times
The sufferings
Of war, in Mindanao, in you...
Dance oh Children
Of Sulu seas
Blissful droplets
Mini Filipinos me
Though the air force jets
Thunder overhead
Weep not lil ones
They are further dead & gone
And now in these drops of sky
We drank
Bathed in the Life
Which we give thanks
So, bring forth
All earthly deluge
We babes of Cebu
Shower
In the sacrosanct
Blossom in the truth.
(this is my Philippines)
I am You.
Jun 5, 2017
Jun 5, 2017 at 4:55 AM UTC
they
travel
overseas
seeking surgery
the cost is cheaper
in those destinations
yet medical tourist
can acquire those many unforeseen
infections after operations
the theaters of surgery lacking hygiene
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
our health services need to act quickly
surgery should be made affordable
then folks from here wouldn't require
cost saving operations
in countries overseas
those staph infections
would cease pronto
our jets not
landing
there
Mar 29, 2013
Mar 29, 2013 at 7:18 PM UTC
I've been searching these deserts
I've been rummaging through my closet
I've been eating more than usual
I've been spontaneously bursting into laughter
I've been attentive
I've been regularly missing taking my anti-depressants
I've been crying hard all at once (expectedly)
I've been very extremely me
This is okay - this is okay
Thank you life
I'm okay.
I'm at this airport and it's like a chorus
The people go up the ramps
Fly away for 3 days like Horus
The returner's come home now
Waiting families embrace them with love
Jumbo jets zoom outside these giant windows
Visitors, excitedly saunter
Into this new and open place...
And this is okay
Thank you, thank you airport
I'm okay.
Jul 13, 2012
Jul 13, 2012 at 10:36 PM UTC
you haven't known me long enough to have the privilege of being rude to me
at least put a label on it before you get offended when I put down your demands for attention
like I owe you my time and affection
if there is anything I've learned over the past year and a half
it's that I don't owe anyone anything
so cool your jets *******
this *** isn't yours yet.
Jul 20, 2015
Jul 20, 2015 at 11:51 PM UTC
The old order changeth, yielding place to new
-Tennyson, Idylls of the King
Like dinosaurs our institutions gasp
In spasms of existential death; they pass
At first unnoticed by the casual unobserver
Who trips over a covenant that isn’t there
If you vote they give you a sticker
The ephemeral Constitution changed
Like sweaty skivvies by each president
Law libraries catalogued for pulp
By obedient functionaries in tees
If you vote they give you a sticker
The faithful escorted out of the cathedral
By a bored security guard on overtime
The altar linens for sale at Goodwill
And the sanctuary repurposed on T.V.
If you vote they give you a sticker
Some of The Just Plain Folks cheer for the Reds
And the others cheer only for the Blues
As the reincarnation of Jack Chick
Blesses their four-wheelers and plastic caps
If you vote they give you a sticker
Election placards on abandoned buildings
Promise again prosperity for all
The **** lab cooks behind The Kute Kidz
Private Academy of the Dance and Math
If you vote they give you a sticker
An outreach of the Bright Light Free Will
Missionary Temple of the Lord Jesus Christ
Of the Lamb Sanctified 501C The Reverend Doctor Master Bishop Billy-Bob Hairdo PhD, DD a-brangin’ Messages and His Esteemed Lady Apostle Heather
If you vote they give you a sticker
And blessed be the Holy AR-15
God gave to His People to defend themselves
Here in the freest country in the world
Which you can find behind the barbed-wire fence
If you vote they give you a sticker
While fleets of luxury presidential jets
Arc high over our public housing projects
Reminding us of our prosperity
Here in the richest country in the world
If you vote they give you a sticker
And them Jews for Jesus I guess they’re all right
But them other Jews they just ain’t no good
Nor them Cath’lics nor them Mormons neither
And don’t you get me started on them Baptists
(We seem to have been otherwise engaged)
“The old order changeth, yielding place to new” –
(But neither cares at all for me or you)
But if you vote they give you a sticker
Nov 6, 2018
Nov 6, 2018 at 7:30 AM UTC
dancing calling flight of the Seagulls
cuts through the blowing of the wind
as fast as fighter jets dipping dives
and reeling upwards into the distance
freedom wild as freedom was always
from the dawning of the feathered
sailing now on wings strong honed
masters of air currents and updraft
Jul 14, 2014
Jul 14, 2014 at 9:06 AM UTC
soap bubbles
bath time
warm
warm
hot
warm
cooling
cold
stale water dripping
past my knees
like we're night bridges
middle of an ocean
vast and crashing
rocking
like maybe we're *******
cold and rough
sea monsters
maybe we're sitting up and
you're laughing
mom's bath with jets
soap bubbles overflowing
maybe our hands are touching
in the sink
near the plates
gripping palms
soapy suds
Mar 3, 2014
Mar 3, 2014 at 11:47 AM UTC
....................terrorism......................
I Opened my window and peeped through.
Heard the loud panicked voice of screams.
Just I saw the world of dreams.
People were shouting'crying'runing here and there.
Destructions and dreadful scenes seemed everywhere.
Streets were covered with huge blood.
Just like I lost in terrific flood.
Dark smoke raised over the sky.
War jets and gaints were so high.
When i glanced all the round.
And didn't believe what I found.
Street lights were broken and dim.
Everywhere laid down the corpses of muslim.
Muslim children and muslim babies.
Their white shrouds turned into red.
War jets bombed,killed,left crippled & then briskly fled.
Only innocent people were on their list.
People were wraping them and taking away by cist.
My eyes burst into tears.
By the thought of terrorism whom everybody fears.
The thousands of people are now lifeless.
And remained so helpless.
Taken away the poor children's future brightness.
with War,conflicts,disputes and violent fray.
Unjustly killed so many people also by slaughter and slay.
Everything for them is just like a game to play.
By the war demons everywhere,everybody is sad & depressed.
Why Only innocent people are being harassed & oppressed?
Violences and wars only left miseries and sorrow.
Nobody can imagin what will happen tomarrow.
that's such a big shame.
blaming only muslims and giving them terrorist name.
Why the Muslims are only labeled of terrorism and extremism?
Come and recognise the real face of terrorism.
In the name of religion why people usually fight?
open their eyes and turn them from darkness to light .
Terrorism has no place in Islamic religion.
It teaches the supreme wisdom with real vision.
I pray when will come in this world that day.
One person will unite the world and bring peace oneday..
.............
((((By shaffu))))
Alhamdulillah I am a muslim but not a terrorist.
Feb 4, 2016
Feb 4, 2016 at 11:48 AM UTC
a ****** of crows gathers
over Hamburg, carrion carrying on
with business as usual.
feeding on the festered flesh
of a gentrified populace.
in private jets coughing carbon
they fly from the west on turbine wings,
engines screaming as they dive towards a nation
secured by razor-wound walls
and barb-wire borders.
they pitched a battle in Germany,
convinced that austerity
would ******* the resistance
and give justification to premeditated violence.
but the tables have turned on the thieves again.
we are the end result of your failed policies,
globalization has destroyed our homes.
if your cabal rallies like a kettle of vultures,
you will do so behind closed doors,
cowering in your fortress' halls.
you shall not pass. watch as the power shifts
like the melting gears of torched BMWs.
we will tear the vestiges of your authority down.
we will black out your surveillance cameras,
smash your windows, and block your limos. no pasaran.
flee, while you can still run. this city belongs
to the wild ones, a black bloc, thousands strong,
dancing amidst the tear gas, tossing molotovs.
marching to liberty's sturdy drum,
equal in our solidarity song.
Jul 8, 2017
Jul 8, 2017 at 12:14 PM UTC
A day will certainly come
As sure as we breathe
When our creator will ask of us
What we did to aid the oppressed
On that day
As surely as who created you
Created me too
It will not be about religion but humanity
When carefully planned and organised jets
Launched rockets
To bomb populated refugee camps
Schools and apartment blocks
At a defenceless opposition
Without an air force or navy
Heavy weapons or artillery
Command or armour
**That's not war
It's ******
It's cold blooded massacre**
As a woman shot in the stomach
Gives birth to a cold blue baby
And a world across oceans changes channels tuning in to the next world cup champion
It was never about taking sides
Israel vs Palestine
There is a truth
To which we must remove the blindfold of ignorance
Searching for a voice of right
Amongst the cries of pain hatred and anger
The sign in a city
Where there is too much to see
Finding peace amongst people who are not ours
Because I see hypocrisy of nations
Who stand for human rights
But only when the human shares a matching ideology
I see hypocrisy amongst media
Where a million wounds and shades of blood
Are inked into black and white letters
Today I read 'An Israelian was killed whilst a dozen Palestinians died'
They turned humans into numbers
Quantitative data
They couldn't possibly de-sensitize it any further
I mean look at the verbs in which they phrased that
I see hypocrisy amongst Muslims
Who stand equal and united
Yet they too turn backs when the interest is not beneficial
And the pitiful nation falls divided
Whether it is a prayer
A strike, a boycott or vigil
A protest or petition
Maybe even a donation
There's a thousand ways to help
But very few who do
So what did you do?
Was it out of sight out of mind for you?
Jul 12, 2014
Jul 12, 2014 at 11:04 PM UTC
If only we could fly like
those that tweet or hoot
without aid of jet or
parachute
For I sure don't like
wings that boom and roar
just so they can take off
and soar
Ah, to fly without petrol, diesel
or fuel
Oh, to halt that taloned midair
duel *
Birds they don't pollute
the air
nor need they any airline
fare
So if only I too could rise
and glide
and let the wind be my
sole guide
I'd be happy to fly all the
way to 'em' faraway stars
if I was assured I'd risk
no charring scars.
Flying without aviation
formalities
I could be sightseeing
many more cities
Ah I so wish to fly just
like a jay or jackdaw
Then I'd fly across all and
every border
For I'd know nor follow
no man-made law!
If only we needed no darned immigration pass or visa
We could have visited so many more touristy places
Say even the spectacular and popular pyramids of Giza
And we could have known different cultures and races
Ah, a stylish photo next to the leaning tower of Pisa
And return with exotica like a framed pic of the Mona Lisa
Feb 26, 2019
Feb 26, 2019 at 12:20 PM UTC
Is it just me?
Or do people not notice
Going to a crowded place
Different aromas wafting,
Emanating around you
They just ignore the sights
Painting their own pictures,
Telling their own stories
Colors invading your personal space
Encompassing you
With a foreign feeling
That creates its own thoughts
In your mind, sprouting
Like trees at the park
Pine needles softly tumbling onto your arms
Tickling each one as it flies away
From its home in the trees
Like a baby bird
Just old enough
For mommy to think he's independent
And there he goes, coasting downward
Until he haphazardly brings himself up
Not a foot from your face
And for a second
Those flapping wings
Sweep up pollen into your nose
Before it jets away
Where? The sky's the limit
But he'll go somewhere populated
Maybe someplace he can fly
Fly like a plane in an airport
Disgruntled passengers hustling
To their respective flights
To go on vacation,
Make it to a meeting, among a plethora of things
Their eyes on the screen of their iphone more than the world around them
All of them, ignorant to their environment
Almost as if they've never seen it before
Like the baby bird that was in front of your face
But how did you see those wings
But those thousands of people didnt
It's because they were too busy tagging
That tweet that wasn't finished
So don't ever feel like just walking
And watching birds
Means you're not doing what you should do
Because those people sitting in the airport
Are missing so much more than you
Oct 22, 2013
Oct 22, 2013 at 12:57 AM UTC
Anxiously awaiting atomic assimilation
Basing me on belligerent and boorish bastardization
Capsizing cargo with careful consideration as to
Deciding which day is decay's destination
Everyone embrace the elevated expiration
Forget my face and follow fabrication
Go to the gallows with grace and gravitation
He will hold you and hinder alienation
I, however, hold insignificance in interest
Justifiable jackhammers jacking fighter jets
Killing Californians who are kissing canvases
Lying without laughing and lighting cigarettes
My master makes me move my mundane mind
Never knowing next to nothing with nothing else inside
Overly offering operating override
Practicing patiently pulling peoples' pride
Quickly questioning quizzical quietness
Rationalizing raging reinventions ridiculous
Stapling this summer to my (still) sick subconscious
Traveling tunnelers trading tides for tiredness
Under the umbrella my undertow untangles
Violently vibrating like varying violin angles
Waiting with wandering whispers under the table
Xylophonist x-rays, excruciating fables
You yellow youngling, you who screams in my dreams
Zebras zoom by every single night, it seems
Let's chant my enchantments, the alliteration song!
And untie your tongue
So you don't take it wrong.
Feb 17, 2011
Feb 17, 2011 at 6:59 PM UTC
THE BIG JETS HIT THEIR TARGETS
TWIN TOWERS TUMBLED DOWN
BIN LADEN SMILES WHEN HE RECALLS
HIS FAVORITE KILLING GROUND
AMERICA'S DARKEST MOMENT
WHEN BLACK SMOKE FILLED THE AIR
AS STEEL AND MORTAR VANISHED
ONLY ANGELS WALKED THOSE STAIRS
CHORUS:
WE REMEMBER THAT SEPTEMBER
WHERE THE PAST IS ONE BAD DREAM
THOSE LOVED ONES LIVE WITHIN US
THERE'S NO CHANGING WHAT THEY MEAN
WE REMEMBER THAT SEPTEMBER
AND THE GRAVEYARD THAT WAS MADE
BY THOSE NINETEEN MUSLIM KILLERS.....
WHILE THE DEBT IS STILL UNPAID
AND NOW THEY WANT ANOTHER MOSQUE
NEAR VERY HALLOWED GROUND
TO BUILD IT NEAR GROUND ZERO
IS AN INSULT SO PROFOUND
AND WHERE THEY'VE BUILT THEIR TEMPLES
THEY'VE BROUGHT MILITANTS WITH CLAWS
THEY HAVE NO RESPECT FOR WOMEN
SELLING ISLAM'S THEIR GREAT CAUSE
CHORUS:
WE REMEMBER THAT SEPTEMBER
WHERE THREE THOUSAND BURNED AND SCREAMED
NOW THOSE LOVED ONES LIVE WITHIN US
TIME WON'T CHANGE HOW MUCH THEY MEAN
WE REMEMBER THAT SEPTEMBER
AND THE GRAVEYARD THAT WAS MADE
BY THOSE NINETEEN MUSLIM KILLERS.....
WHILE THE DEBT IS STILL UNPAID
Sep 6, 2010
Sep 6, 2010 at 10:20 AM UTC
Tell me, Gentlemen:
while you soared higher than your fears and dreams could ever reach, into the blue crystal infinity,
did you hear the voices of angels echoing off the wings of geese migrating south for the winter?
how did it feel,
fighting for a nation that measured your worth in disheveled water fountains, mop buckets, dust rags, and potato peelings,
defending stars and stripes stained with the same molten white abhorrence smeared on ******** bombers?
did it hit you like a G force?
when you climbed into that cockpit, audaciously red, the blood rushing to your head, was it bitter hand fulls of cherries sweet?
when you returned home through back doors and alleyways to face an Uncle Sam with burning crosses in his eyes,
when you stood curbside at your own homecoming parade feeling confetti and streamers tickle the bridges of your noses,
tell me how it felt, Gentlemen.
will my brothers and sisters who fight only for tennis shoe wealth, understand the worth of those medals on your scarlet blazers?
if I listen hard enough to those jets breaking the sound barrier will I hear your story?
tell me, Gentlemen,
what was it like to fly?
infinite respects,
Curlie Fries Mcgee
Dec 15, 2012
Dec 15, 2012 at 8:06 AM UTC
Love me some more
pour your heart and i’ll pour in mine
you live near an airport
and i hear the low laboring growl
of some jets casting shadows over our heads
in bed with you in the afternoon
smearing the pink sunset
our low hanging blood keeping us
sleepy seedy and awaiting the frosty night
to come again
love me some more
let the gusts do their dance through
the windows
and let the towers of today fall
Apr 3, 2018
Apr 3, 2018 at 12:11 AM UTC