Morphine & Cola, Mrs. I can't believe I told you this is, so exacerbating I Can't sleep; even this weather riles inside me as we weep. There wasn't Anything that'd have shown you. There hasn't been a single sprout of Showmanship, or the erstwhile philanthropy that needers' raise their Eyebrows to and to. This is the degree we know it. The subtle afterglow With everything that you've known, and while the snow settles on your Window sill. While winter rime binds its ice to the wheat, and every soft Little seedling sewn, whispers its final sentences before autumn while it Drifts itself to sleep. There were the cards and the faces of Jacks among Aces, places uplifted by China dishes of porcelain overflowing, like Tencel in socks, woven into the pockets of trousers. Where does the Mischief go while it certainly isn't ours, and the dandy light across your Temple bares a gleam.

Some things are enriching, but yet too sordid to stare at. While the game Is enriching, the pain is too much to bear, and whether in vain or *******, the likes of you, make these lips of mine much softer against Your finger tips. Tips of fingers, petals of flowers, baskets of fresh bread Baked with wheat flour- follow the noon bird, fancy a sit by a brook, and Listen for the whistle-less, whistling of a rook.

Grey is quite golden too. Like the same tencel that I've used, or the silken Web treated to a loom, like lightning bugs out for an early dance on the Afternoon. Seldom as moss on sidewalk path or the pangs of laughing Heart at mass. What does the new bird bring? The bride of this coming Spring? For every sugarcube we taste, we save ourselves from second Base. Dr. Narrod with a gentle touch, the inspection you love so much. The gentle morsels smoothed upon the hand. The girl-like woman with Her ewe-like lamb. "For all of you who wanted them 808s, can you feel that ******* bass. For all of those who wanted them 808s, can you feel that ******* bass. I like the way you move."

I'm in my eighth month of this journey
There have been highs and plunging lows
Many a word has been on the gurney
I've seen poets come and poets go

It was a sixties' high to have readers
For people to comment and like my words
My advice heeders and some needers
Meaningful relationships soon occurred

It has been a place where I've laughed and cried
A world of birthdays and sweet victories
A painful universe, euphoria died
Poets passed, nothing remains but histories

The trip of a lifetime in less than a year
Why do we write, why do we read and care?
It's more than I can emotionally hear
It's more than I can emotionally bare

At one point, I was addicted to this place
Constantly reading, checking, and writing
No narcissist could persist at such a pace
With poets I did some loving and fighting

Life forced me on the highway well traveled
I decided I'd leave this country for now
Yet with this decision, I have often graveled
I always found myself looking back somehow

Oceans, mountains, dales, and unexplored bends
That's this poetic journey desired so
No matter if we're laughing or crying my friends
We poets have or want nowhere else to go

Honest
He who doesn't work, works **** or just can't commit
He homeless
He an affair and a **** good fix
****** with a tendency to show underwhelming ****
Twisted into nicety by such anger at the human, the wants
Good at *** when in love
Un-abused
Un-poisened
One of my best mates like
Dyslexic thick ****
A problem
Step child and real life son, grandson always, always, grandson
eldest unappreciated, underestimated, paranioder? Paranoidist.
One of the needers of therapists
Panicked by past
Fractured by future
A depressive, doesn't drink, do drudgery like drugs
A fearfull mess mummy's boy
Fatherless
Fathered less
A letdownshowoff
overconfident,
Anxious, ex husband, probable poofter, please Goddot, please, let he be a cheater  
A ex punk, definite *****, pushover, almost poet
So easily hurt, yet never hurts
My love one. (Cary you Guardian)
Too damed romantic
Cant read but by gosh buys books
Genius
artistic, Autistic, an idiot and just another bad student
manish
Little Boy
child
Unable to be alone and not a good flatmate
Justifier of the almighty grey areas,
The cheated...

the Strong willed.

hidden foes
closed doors
dirtied shores
a world gone awry

tacky leaders
massive needers
acting like dealers
a world gone awry

cultures collapse
diseases relapse
madness perhaps
a world gone awry

this movie called life
sharper than a knife
global community in strife
in a world gone awry....

© 2017

They choose to be paranoid so they become parallel to the void and be annoyed at the end stars will also fall they why I choose to be flock to life needers am live stock I give wings to my siblings for them to fly high and reach the heavens curtins

They partner with the east as they co-cain , stars fell and I saw pain I am no earthling am heavenling I speak in tongues then it fall rains to earth am foreign before rain I reign above earths fears like jesus is us at birth
Through steve's glasses I see the fine line between abel and seth , adam and birth you could add them and find earth

Epizoons come by trillion man armies,
Flies prey around me, as leaches they take mine best.
Such distress!

Episodes I see daily of young lovers who march,eating fast food and starch, yet their eyes are to busy feasting the neighbor next door!

Cuppy lips I want to drag me under, to annilate this every structure, buttons snapped off, clothes are ripped to all passion!
Sensual reactions...

Connatural baseburners, needers and groaners, dialect between to unearthly cheribums..
Basilica of fun!!!!!!!!!!

An alt altocumulous, hyper by ourn own hydrous hose,
Unclothed....

Lacuna's we shall upheave, we shall grown to thine own beats, and tribalize to ourn own submission...

Leaguer's of our own team
Players to the game of purest ******* wholesale!!!!
A warden to make mine bail.../

A gelatin to mold in,
To ease away in our bath soaked togetherness....

I am tired of these
meandering
neanderthal
who do not know
how to self-evolve.

Certain that
they know it all,
so there is no
place for growth.

Partially,
passive pleasure
hunters,
mild mouth breathers,
techno needers,
people pleasers,
freaking breeders,
but seldom ever
very clever
truth seekers.

I am tired of
patterns and science
not being enough
to push them above
previous religious
and political perspectives.

So, in my fatigue,
I settle for being
just me,
seeking the relief
of solitude
and comfort in
the only dude
who thinks
like I do,

me.