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Qweyku Nov 2016
Sometimes the rain falls
as if its penning poetry
to the rhythm of its own music;
a sonic tune of liquid tapestry.

Cleft from a sky immersed
in the scene of a tragedy.
It's tears,
the pitter-patter;
a solemn dance
for all humanity.

An ancient jig this fluid frolic
never tiring of its endless cycle
vesting and revisiting this terra firma
like a lover emasculating the earth
of its desert state,
or adding to its oceans
in a bid to be free.

But you’re here again, I’ve noticed
for even through windows
your music plays a clamorous
and rather brazen beat.

Take my hand, why don’t you?


Dance with me.

**© Qwey.ku
I was just passing through
You didn’t know me; I didn’t know you
But I should have known you’d steal from me
When you told me to Have a Blessed Day

You never came back with the change
And that is sad. We have come to accept the lies
Of praychurs, presidents, and prime ministers
But one expects better of Sonic waitresses

And  you told me to Have a Blessed Day

So you’re 40 cents to the bad, that’s true
But I’ve got the dollar I was going to tip you

And, hey, y’all have a blessed day, y’hear?

(May God bless her for really-real; generational poverty sees things differently, and, anyway, she may have learned it from the 501C3 preacher-man.)
Your ‘umble scrivener’s site is:
It’s not at all reactionary, tho’ it might be drivel.

Lawrence Hall’s vanity publications are available on as Kindle and on bits of dead tree:  The Road to Magdalena, Paleo-Hippies at Work and Play, Lady with a Dead Turtle, Don’t Forget Your Shoes and Grapes, Coffee and a Dead Alligator to Go, and Dispatches from the Colonial Office.
kindness eats
least of all we defeat our enemies cheaply
steep the leaves in hot water gently
keep enemies close to you and weapons even closer
our friends are sunbeams
jump in the water
your sun-burned back is peeling
out loud you reminded me
not to bend down too quickly
he hounds me with his questions
lessons on arithmetic
I’m so sick of it
histrionics and sonic lectures
his tricks are onto it
moronic manic accidents
red lions with long necks
deflect authority and wager on credit
the outcomes are certain
all will fade away indefinitely
understand this and measure your life by breaths and not complexity
densities are hiding in visionary lightning
finding new capacities every moment
i am swift
limitless beauty
refulgent emulsion
immersed in water and poetry
under highest authority
or higher security
under heightened scrutiny
all is being watched
as judges redefine your beauty
if you are truly interested in finding happiness
you must understand
that all magic is abraxas
satisfaction attacks this
as we collapse upon ecstatic languages
King Panda Aug 2017
I am unsure of the geology
of where you’re from.

I expect there exists
shelves and sheaths

pale grey-yellow
like serum in the blood

and rocks resembling
sun-weathered lobster

all of this enclosed by

a festoon of green pine—
its regalia cut sonic

and naked
wrung and wrung again

by august.
on the edge

a cabin is hemmed on
the skirt of ocean—

spikes of molding logs
propped and resting

a wave comes in.

a wave goes out.
a wave stays to shake

your hand.
introduces itself as

sensate verge
and wonderment.


I can only imagine what
it is for you.
KCibot May 14
Humanity sometimes evolves
much like time

Baby Girl
Baby Boy
Monkey              Elephant
Witch                       Angel
Robotnick                Sonic
Ryan                          Evie
Love Unlocks
And I
B L Mar 2013
I scream to drown the noise, fight to hold my poise
Against this sonic wave that dismantles and destroys
This place that I called home… It’s all that’s left of what I own.
I fear I’m destined to the desert, or somewhere desolate to roam.
Tried to convince my brain this wasn’t real – that lies are all I feel.
I’m not sure why I fear this noise;
There’s nothing left for it to steal.
Yet I plug my ears and scream; tear the stitching from my seams
I find it difficult to sleep, and near impossible to dream.
I scream so hard it makes me sweat, and my skin begins to gleam
This heat turns smiles into tears, like water into steam.

My head begins to ache; my hands begin to shake
If I chose the wrong path, I made one hell of a mistake.
While my lungs still permit, I’ll keep their volume set on high,
Lift my head to the clouds, and scream at the sky.
I have yet to hear an answer, and while I’m not much of dancer
I learned some steps from Lady Luck in hopes to cure me of this cancer.

Now, I don’t believe in luck – but she still left me with something.
While we danced I took notice; the noise dulled slightly to a humming.
I looked back to Lady Luck – and I’m sure this wasn’t just a dream –
But she had vanished to the air, like water into steam.
I said “I don’t believe in luck.” She still left me something, though.
She said “You can’t predict the world – I assume this much you know…”
“But if a farmer plants a seed, in that spot a plant will grow.”

One day, my throat gave out.  For no longer could I shout.
And I don’t believe in luck, so I was simply left with doubt.
I cursed that lady’s words; told myself that she was crazy.
When something caught my eye…
There - at my feet - grew a daisy.
A daisy… In the desert…
And despite how bad my head hurt, I thanked God for Lady Luck.
I thanked God that I had met her.
For the noise I heard was her opposite. It was the presence of chance.
I learned the farmer can’t predict the world, but his seeds grow into plants.
So since my only choices are my actions... I think I’ll take today to dance.
BlancaNigrida Feb 2018
A feather flutters to the floor,
And as it lands I hear it roar.
Scrape of talons on the bark,
A sonic boom here in the dark.

Through the night two lovers run,
Wishing for warmth from the sun.
But when I say the night is done,
The love is gone, there's only one.

With two the darkness is exciting,
Absorb the flesh and let the night in.
With one the stars seem only frightening,
Blinded by the day, can't let the light in.

One thing to do, to stumble on,
To sing the magpie's lonely song.
zebra Jun 11
i fall and ascend in a sea    vantablack
spiral light
fire ghosts and ice
that cut the soul to pieces
like scissors
that split rabbits

industry of a hissing creation
polluted altar of sleeping lakes
and scythe
bludgeon and howitzer
prods of push and pull
in a grindhouse
necropolis of craters
scattering snake eggs and tumors

i am here born to you thin of bone
mother of catastrophes
on a colossal ball of scab and callous
that moves sonorous dazzling shapes
careening through
ephemera workhorse torches
of doom

you fill me with knots of terror
and desperate dreams of stairway wings
veils and glimmers
resolutions dissolving
petaled apertures of desire
and night whispers
in a spider web of sonic bulls

before undertows gravity
i was vibrant
but then i died into the rock ash of earth
they called it my birthday
my parents with party hats and balloons
blinked fetters
against nights of concrete and stone

i got deader still
until i was nothing
but an imagineless gob of mud and breath
an eye looking out
behind red nerve forest fires
and tears shook tambourines
down heavy lashes
cascaded fluttering  tassels  

i am born to you mother of senile seas
citadel of shattered glass
in a slate cube of cyclones
mute and screaming
my fate deep shock
encased in mausoleums led nautilus

blatting hells jaundiced shriek

Pluto conjunct Saturn
Classy J Dec 2016
They call me the smartest *****; they look at me like they would at Sauron.  Maybe I am just destined to be defined like an oxymoron, and also why do people shut their doors on me like I was a Mormon. Did I make the right choice when I took the blue pill and moved into Zion? Don’t know how to feel or who or what I should rely on. Bygones are bygones, got to follow the drill, so best not pull any funny ones. Being spied on, got no where to run, after all when your under a dictatorship there is no time for fun, there is only time to train one how to shoot a gun. Blang blam got a cross on fire on my lawn from the dreaded Ku Klux ****.  One extreme to another, what happened to Jesus’s teachings of how we are all heavenly sisters and brothers? **** the American dream; **** this apparent land of the free where anyone from anywhere can attain cream. Not a joke so turn this into a meme, this is serious if you only saw the things which some claim as the unseen.

Open your mind; don’t bind yourself to devilish things that appear kind. Charging up my chakra, hypnotizing you with my words like I’m the unclaimed child of Big Poppa. I am so waka I get yawl flocking to my flame, my bars aint **** yeah they as lit as Mary Jane. Bulking up like Bain, natural leader and I got a big brain. Some stalker ******* get so shady, thinking that I will spend my gravy, or that I will have their baby. Sorry I am not interested in getting rabies or taking a taste of your dead daisy. This is my loot; ***** the only thing I’ll give you is the boot. Scoot away from me, best stray by the bay before I write a restraining order on thee.  What is this world coming to? Harold be it that we stuck in a rut with a storm beginning to brew.  

People say I should stop drinking because I got family duties and responsibilities but I drink because I have to deal with the stress from family duties and responsibilities.  **** it all; **** my *****, better duck down because one punch and you’ll fall. Got the gall, Pokémon master man **** right I’m about to catch them all! I’m super and I like to smash bro, so better hide your ***** and your side **. Classically unclassified, mentally traumatized from a fall out of a genocide. Time to be unfiltered; rhyming from a heart that used to be good but now has been altered. Maybe I am just an oxymoron, just a sly fox that know how to survive because no matter what my hope for a better world will stay strong. I may live in this world but I am not of it, I may continue to give until I decide to say ah **** it! Isn’t it ironic? Isn’t the whole point of being a rapper to make a profit and strive to rap as fast as the speed of sonic? Let me puff some **** and drink till I’m subatomic. Wouldn’t that be ironic? Wouldn’t that be something if I chose to become like everyone else and live out a life of being toxic. So am I ironic or am I just an oxymoron? Don’t give a **** either way because I am iconic and will take anything you haters bring on!
give thanks that we can work it out on the dance floor
everyone knows there is more to life than a high score
so come get your fix of this sonic deliverance
while all of my love is here for you to indulge in
this week thurston moore liked one of my videos
robert hunter liked one of my poems
and some japanese kid liked my latest soundcloud tune
that’s sonic youth, the grateful dead and the asian empire
if you’re keeping score
like i am
Bella Nov 2017
Social Customs are strange things.
Football games,
for example:

it's dark
night time
they gather, swarms of them,
in groups of colors.
Paint dripping down sweaty bodies
turning words into slurs-
and flags- and hand prints into swirls of color,
spirals of sweat.-
In the middle of it all
are two herds of men,
yell and jump
into each other/
on to each other/
at each other.
It looks less like a game and more like a battle to the death.
The noise from the crowds only seem to encourage the Warriors.

Girls with small handheld fireworks
throw each other in the air.
Each of them trying to grab a piece of the clouds as a present for the ”winners.”
Sending sequins and mini skirts flying left and right.
They're sweating and smiling
whether it's real or fake is unclear.
The voices coming from their tiny bodies could create a sonic boom.
Which only adds to the noise.

The noise--
half screaming,
half instruments.
have a competition of their own.
They're just as loud,
but not nearly as violent.
Some say you either fight with fists or with words,
but there's a third option.
It's not words--
it's not noise either,
to the trained ear it's a different language.
They speak to each other.
They're telling stories with sound.
And the one who strings together the best sentence,

It takes a lot of work to do this--
to do all of this-
any of this.
Each part takes sweat and blood,
time and energy,
concentration and practice.
Each moving part takes hours,
to practice,
to get it just right.
And when the pieces all come together
it's like clockwork.
Each group works like a gear in a clock coming together
to make something unique,
At least-- in someone's eyes.

I'm still not sure what it's all for.
But what I do know,
is it bring smiles and laughter.
So  some way
all that sweat and noise
must be good
to someone.
this is an outsiders take (my take) on a football game.
Emily Grace Dec 2018
You’re like the sweetest heart
You’re like my miracle
You’re the only one I want
You’re like the World Series
You’re like the saints ,won
You’re like the eagles versus
You’re like frog legs in Paris
You’re like my always pads
You’re like every ticket I’ve ever had
You’re like my air bag I never want to use you
You’re like my little angel’s eyes
You are second hand smoke
You are on my way to my God
you are my music high way
And every Mexican blanket
You are a field of hay and a single strike of lightning
You are every unfinished piece
I know I’m saving for our children
I have seen them in make shifts so we can definitely make time for everyone
Keep me on your next list
You are all the self help books that I read for my own mend
You are prevention magazine
And you’re mom is all the wax I accidentally spill out of candles
I think you’re my insecure side that’s scared to love you in front of the neighbors
You’re all the days I showed up late to school for Chuck Norris jokes in detention
You’re all the lonely drives I take and really enjoy the scenery
You are Oreos and Sonic Ice
You are better than any view
You are every sing
le time someone
  took me to the zoo
You are the pink palace
You are mismatched socks
You are solid rock
You are for twenty in the morning on the dot
You are every time that I cannot forget dingus
Or every time we drive I sing to you
Or when we got locked inside of the parking lot on signal mountain and the park ranger came to help us so soon
You are my best friend coming to see me when I got to college
You are the patience I gain when I
Stop wondering who the one is
Maybe you are every time I run away
You are all the times I cry so hard that it starts to rain
You are the doe that always comes near and is never afraid of what will happen next
You are the day you told me I was the girl you dreamed about
You are the day we sat in the back of my car
You are there for me when I have gone too far
You meet me further than any arrest or charger cord
And Graceland too
You’re my wonderful morning
You’re my answered prayers for sunshine
You’re every single word I type in black and white
Messy cars aren’t so bad too meme my love for this love is the only art form I choose

Loves eliminating my clouded culture
I’m ready for the day when eagles fly over
Thank you god for everything
King Tutankhamun Aug 2018
Check it I be the mic originator greater than the next hater
So my nines will degrade ya send ya back to ya maker undertaker
Shake ya
With my earthquake flows formin' portals bigger than the black hole leave ya third eye swole
My thoughts travelin' faster than the speed of light say goodnight from the snake bite
A rhyming python wears cables and nylon runnin' bars harder than marathon true champion none could knock a don
Birthed by the sun raised by moon Sonic booms soundwaves from heart rates feelin' doom and soon
To be resting in the womb
The belly of the earth retaining my turf know my worth make words hurts
So suckas better tuck in ya skirts
I'm catching mirth
Along with death til my last breath cookin' up rhymes from the *** of my mind n continue to shine
Its asinine to flex ya mind if you cross the gun line don't be a victim of a graphic design

(Ya tapped out)

Scatzzz all over the kitty katz with my woody bat making them brains cracks
Cells it ain't hard to tell ****** fear me cuz I be the archangel Michael
fallin' deep into the depths of my hell o well
If you try to inhale my lyrical tales this ship is set to sail
On ya brainwaves these days fools rappin' for cheap pay lookin' all *** **** that I rather use the AK
Sittin' by the window seal signing the release will my soul'll still
Be reaching regardless the hardest artist
Usually ends up a carcass manifest the darkest
Rhymes but shine light at the same time crime at an all time
High once I blaze my thoughts cells fought & caught
By the smokin' arrows of a ghostly pharoah
Thats just my ancestors though lettin' me know it's time to show and go blow for blow toe to toe
Hands or the chrome pistol
The ghetto Aristotle makin' bodies mold from the enemies that caught a cold
Michael Briefs Nov 2017
Wrestling with the rifts within,
Fraught with an inner turmoil,
I stagger down to the sea,
Seeking to uncoil.
Standing out on the pier,
Alone with the song of the shore
And the sea around me,
The bitter questions dissipate,
The draining weight lifts free.

Waves crash and currents move
Like gravity made plain;
A watery force droning as voices
The sound of this presence pulls me
Into a trance of fate.  
My reverie foments, my mind drifts
And my thoughts fly
Like sea spray.

Inside, I am dancing, daring, flirting with
Danger and teasing the tides!
Soon, I feel like I am floating above
The deluge,
Yet my courage abides.

I am in that place
In the midst of a constantly flowing
But I am steady,
Held within its reach.
I am not lashed by the elements
Nor tattered by the winds…
I feel immersed in this dynamic
Field of hydro-power
And showering sonic sheets.  

This place has become a part of me,
For my heart has joined with it
And the two become one:
Pulse and flow,
Flesh and wet,
Water and blood
It’s the rise and fall of
Centrifugal churning
(beneath the waves and within this body),
It’s the crack of a quickening surge!

In this bracing instant, we hum
In sympathetic harmony,
At this moment, at once, I am
Vulnerable and victorious,
Pallid and empowered,
Passing and present;
All of these combined.

With the lurking land mass of my life behind
And this mysterious, epic depth before,
My soul hangs suspended
And separate from those on the ships and
Those who tread
Beyond the shore.  

Behind, in the earth, I have been fashioned
For a life like the teeming masses
I see every day.
With so many years gone by, under
The wandering sun and the
Waning moon,
I have journeyed in vain.  
With the taste of dust in my mouth,
My feet are blistered by
The fractured terrain.

I am yoked with the weight of
Bruised memories, still unresolved
Conflicts in my mind.
That earth realm leaves me weary,
In black and sullen confusion, blind.

Yet something is calling me back
To forth,
Out from and above those wasted years,
Like so many fingers
Clutched around my neck!
I sense my flight and my future are found before me.
I feel girded for the trek.

There is an overwhelming need
For a desperate DEPARTURETURN!  
To evolve…

Then, within my soul and with
The salt of my saliva,
I gasp at a realization...Yes!
This is a chance to chart my course!
To start my life anew!
To face the epic depth of
This fearful moment!

To descend and rise….to baptize.  

There seems to be mercury in my
Blood stream for it swells until
My eyes swim!
There is a cataclysm in my psyche
As the crashing ricochets

My soul, my fears, my hopes and my heart
Are fluxing and flying wildly, like sea spray!

There is a feeling of being drawn out,
Like a force of gravity
On a current of inevitability.
At this moment, at last, I am one.
Devon Carberry Nov 2018
We move to the rhythm of the city
Beating to the waves of adrenaline, never pity.

I need to hold you close, this affliction is impossible to diagnose.

Trying to comprehend and begging Gods and Monsters that tonight will never end.

Our Sonic Youth cannot be contained,
Electronic and unashamed.

With brains that bleed idiosyncratically and make magic with words or a pen,

Hands that turn a gin and tonic into something drastically more chronic.

The solution to the problem is that the cause is quite solemn.

Leave everything behind for a new place;  taste your favorite stranger's face.

Let them know that their perfume can light up a whole room.

We're searching for the people we've been our whole lives, in structures we do not recognize.

Know that most women that dream only survive on nicotine,

Slow Dancing in the Dark just to feel Nevermore than a spark.

This is how it feels to be unreal, when your entire body becomes brittle steel.

Don't let the season tantalize your demons.

If you can feel your own unapologetic heart, realize that this is just the start.

And when you're tired of leaving, run.
Ray Jordan Jul 28
When the moonlight hides behind looming clouds,
Lightning signals the tempest within,
Sonic rumblings deep in its shroud
Portents the restive, unruly din
Of the gathering storm.

To unveil this Tyrant’s burgeoning spring,
Great with terror, a dark presence looms,
Born unrivaled this terrible thing
Consumes the sky in a caste of gloom
From the gathering storm.

And the power awe-strikes torment for all,
Bids the groundling no place to retreat.
Shelter cannot protect from this pall!
A wary, battered, scornful deceit
Breeds the gathering storm.

And wind will ordain what the Earth must defend!
And raindrops untamed in a rage will descend!
And talk among Heads in this battle conspire,
Creating deep troughs in the muck and the mire!
The storm will increase with a shattering sound
And Heads will claim shelter, their troughs will abound!
And those who take sides to escape from the flood
Discover the real truth when trapped in the mud!

And when force conceived, unnat’ral, defined,
Takes the civil as lambs for slaughter,
Raises Cain when the Post reads unkind,
‘It’s time to hide your sons and daughters
From the gathering storm!
Satirical allegory. Yes, politically charged but not toward a specific party or ideal. The poem is written in a specific pattern for the first three stanzas. The fourth stanza has its own pattern and the fifth returns to the original pattern with a slight change at the end of the second and fourth lines. Took a bit to work out but this has possibilities for me. I like the process and will continue to develop this technique.
doing either one and
we dream of $8 haircuts
and no plans of anything
but watching the routine
of life unfold in front of
prying eyes through
venetian blinds
as singles mothers
prep their child for the
education of death
as dogs walk their masters
as fathers choke on neckties
and stress in traffic
as the mailman makes
his rounds
and someone is being born
and someone is dying
and someone is dead
and worst of all someone
is dead before they die and
money is made and money is spent
and someone is lubing themselves
with comfort and convenience to
make getting ****** by the world
a little more tolerable
and a little less raw
and I am here
eating walnuts and
drinking Spotted Cow
and listening to Sonic Youth
on this delving day
while the rest are scouring
through another day of
intolerable hell but we never
stop and think for a moment
to ask ourselves who we are,
we just enable them to run our
lives and tell us who we should be
because when they got you at
Ken Pepiton Jul 19
cognitive dis
sonnance sonic vibration shaking
the core
of our age

constant hey, hey look this way,
walk this way,
talk this way

groan, big stretch intended

to en
velope volve gauge and me
asure real if I can make
my bubble gobble yours,
you're in mine,

your's popped.
It's okeh, I expected you.
I prepared a place, come and see.

you can't go on pre
tending to aim at invisible hope
for things you see, right here.

The end of any mortal moment
is always near. In your heart, you know.
The kingdom of God (a term yet undefined),

if this is a place,
this stack of lines your learning lets you read,
then this is your heart-felt happiest possible place,
this is like heaven to you,
after all
is said, and done.

--- that's published ---
a seed
or a flower, or leaves of grass
as good for me to grow on as
any sacred cow,

chewinginging blissish backward belching
methane, to warm the wind,

to ease the groaning from below the ice,

chewing leaves of grass,
as in times past,
when fusions were being warmed

from industrial effort to make the Iron Legged Monster
trample the idea

of calming words easing pain as sure as momma kisses
always did,

when you thought, as a kid and could believe such kisses
evidently worked,
you felt un-pained, the kiss alone could be blamed.

Did you notice? When kisses made hurts go away,
was your attention the price
of the kiss or was it a switch clicked as the lips of another

touched your skin and authoritatively declared,
all's better, and this is the direction
the vector from one remembered kiss of this sort

epigenetic trigger cocked, then pulled

endurance of developing process patterns with all the pieces

laid out
before our eyes, asif
intended to be seen, pain,

pay attention. Sharp can be evidence of fracture or
proof that whetting the edge makes our shaping
painless on this scale.

Aim at nothing, imagine what you hit. High five,
one hand clapping,
one more way to see the sublime.
This is blantant flow published for cause quite mysterious to me. Mysteries in fiction are not so -pointy- few unknowns known knowable are easy to chew.
Poetic Passion Apr 2018
I'm ready to shoot, hand me the pistol *** I'm ****** all the time
These issues are deeper than an Adam's apple so take a bite of Adam's apple, that was the world's first crime
I hid myself so much my sanity was the only thing the seeker couldn't find
I made contract for my life but the liability waiver was never signed
I'm lost in these thoughts undoubtedly trapped in my own mind
Just waiting for the stars and planets to become aligned
Since things naturally don't go right although a stitch in time saves nine
But its all like Amanda on drugs, that life's the only thing she couldn't Byne
I'm brain dead to reality you could call that a cerebral ******
I'm trying to bend the facts but I just keep saying "insert girder"
I tried to dance life away so I took lessons from Tina at Bob's Burger
But I still seem to be invisible in plain sight like telling you what the hell is a Berber
I'm just rambling out words to hide the old love in my eyes
Since I was stuck in the past searching for an ex-her-size
And if you looked into my eyes two months ago I could tell you I loved to despise
A relationship til I caught an angel with no lies or disguise
I always wondered what life would be like if both my grandfathers never died
I met one at his funeral and the other had a demolition dirby crash because the other guy didn't read the driver's hand guide
I'd give a lot to see them and what they were like they'd be the ones I confide
The feelings of my past pain and agony, let then know how I was trapped in the rough seas with high tide
I often believed my eyes drip dropped because every drop eye dripped was a waterfall of mental issues
If you thought Squidward was bad when he sang boys who cry then I'm gonna four ply for these eyes no other tissues
I used to take happiness for granted well at least that was my excuse
To stay in the darkness of my shadows because I couldn't even reach silver with my super sonic level of abuse
Corruption is nothing but a stain on my shirt and memory lane is just about an aisle down from my rebirth
I didn't think I could make it this far after being imprisoned behind the suicidal bars and my lack of self worth
I wasn't too fond of my father so I adopted father time and it was mother's nature to act like my mother earth
But sometimes I think this life being born was but a broken condomn that couldn't break the return the slab curse
Its been a while since I've had a depressing memory but thank GOD its still that way
I'm still trying to walk on my ten toes so I could tip toe through the Garden of Eden when its my time and day
But sin weighs me down and I live off of these unhealthy murderous thoughts and sometimes forget to pray
Good thing I'm still in my youth pushing it to the limit like Corbin Bleu would say
I have at least eight more lines left so let's keep the heat running at a ten
Watch what light enters your eyes because my fire could damage your retina and shatter your lens
Leaving you with distorted images like capturing Kodak, black and white pictures will be the new trend
If your not laughing yet take a sip of this aqueous humor, my boujee friend Mercedes thought her last name was Benz
There's little to go so try to read in between the lines of this mental battle
You're stuck playing with babies but I'm trying to hang with the snakes that rattle
This conversation is from me to you never look for a farmer who'll treat you like cattle
And if didn't you know I was the narrator, main character and second person so has your mind been dismantled?
#LetTheMindFlow #PutPenToPaper
Hey, another week whispers love to win "W" That womanly wonder I need to take a step back to "V"  just need to vent out.
I'm here not over there? Medieval times "Roman Festival" of love
I have to catch up to get to V- Valentine things are the sublime wake up take a bite the "Viennese Whirls" biscuit "The Cats Meow"
The Siamese to suit me just fine. The Valentine recruit her day of pursuit. Her lower V back to her higher love loot plays up to her **** and boots.

A victory versus the villain Mama Mia striking gold but I am a face to red like grapes. The Italian Villa making love in her red hot chinchilla. But somewhere over her sheer rainbow, he got sidetracked all the way she looks divine in her "Rosy" slingback chair. Read my lips go smack CD track "V-Valiant" multiplying like ants. She flaunts herself such a venom demonstration. The biblical (V)-sword wins her love sentimental. What aims the bow and arrow a heart is her V village daring. Quite shocking and alarming the poems red silk ties her love force the light shines romantically warm red. V Virtual reality Strawbery Sponge cake.

Her V-Valentine the first day she met him. Where she came from will we ever know? What's in the card do we win or lose to know what in store for you?

You will get to know me 
The sweets got her set
The bittersweets only yet
Plays the different drum
The Valiant V venture
Hum all *** about him
The ricochet "Russian *****"

This is not the end of the alphabet
zoomed in like the Zebra
You got me V for Visa
But Y where did the
( L)_ go we are losing some??
More victories firelight sunset

Lionhearted heroic I bet
Did you throw me into Lion's den?
Refresh my L- love ******
"O" only roses pink/red sonic
Zippety do day happier
V Day the wine glasses
L-O-V- E Ecstacy

I suppose another tempting
Dose V vitamins
"Valiant Rose" Face
Such velocity
I feel pretty dancing
high castles

 Herbivore love me messy
Victorian sleeping beauty
Rose Kiss Hibiscus
Vampire rosebuds
Cherubs ****** red
Red Mercedes
Hubs of love

For the "Valiant Smart ladies"
High society noses
Pluto-Venus Starwars
V Valentino and their singles
Cappuccino in Italy Portofino
Chic centerfold V candles
Damask Rose pretentious pose

She's the V Voluptuous
Red devil ventriloquist
Pink/Wink Strawberry mousse
The Bulgarian with her cute
Pomeranian and spouse
Elephant Tusk smells
of musk E-love

"Marilyn Monroe" baguettes
Yves The Saint Laurent
So Valiant bond deep
Cut thorns of Reds
Bergdorf Blondes and
Valentine duet V-shape
Headset  vivacious escapes
So mindset
Never forget the one day

February 14 your
Valentine ring
heartedly set
Salute to the cadet
This is the sweet smell of Valentines day or any day that you have plenty of loving your heart will tell you don't lose that feeling be the mindset to take a sip of coffee to melt your heart inside his love words
Mike Hauser Aug 7
Outer Space
On a cosmic pickle
At the speed of Dill
Makes my tonsils tickle

Star struck tunes
Powered by
Sonic pickle juice

What's a spaced-out cowboy
Supposed to do
In a bucking galaxy
Pickle groove

Riding high
On a cosmic pickle
At the speed of Dill
Makes me giggle
Paul NP Aug 2
My epiphanous sword is a fan. It's fanning slash is slush. It cools the breath and saves the rushed from heaven's devilish dust.

The icey wand of the native land is cold and distant, it plays with persistence. When the snow dost rush , thy sword, it's crush; glazes the beast and the insect.

Icey blue, I'm next to you, I live for the futures past. Distant blue I'm fresh and new, cultivating from blood and ash.

Blue blood, sworn to trust, empathy rests in you. My beautiful blue, old and new, my ***** blocks your beautitude.
Rest your chest on this stratus, empty casket, doth thou practice?
Change your hemisphere to the dear, symphonic iceolation. The human's hand, the human's gland, crystal occupation?
The devil in you is the coldest blue, who melts in the *** of desolation.
The God you are, he rests afar, looking into the moon.
He sees a star ever far, that reminds him of the truth in you. That star is Rigel, from which it's solar starvation hungers in the solar view of Angels.

Verilly I say unto you, dress thee attire with wicked sand, bless and blister your wicked hands and take apart the virtue that I giveth a part to your chest.
Your cold blue has a warmth in view and no handler may digress. Fortune favors the meek, and the heavenly solar week. Keep thy eyes shined and thy breath blue, let the surface comfort you, let the brother father the mother and account for the restless accrue. Noble men sanctify their right to dignify, so no longer shall you signify the choice of light and life. No name shall acclimate your virtue but the name given to you at birth. Let it be not afflicted by parallels and cross tangents, correlations or brass legged revelations. Let it not be known or unknown, empty or full, let it not shave the beautitude I ascribe to you.

Written on the wind in the solar plexus. Your body is not your dress. Your cloak is marigold and blue as I have designated to you out of the trust that you have given.
Take your wonder and your scepter, your sword and your nectar and reguile your sonic wounds you beautiful fool. No man shall touch or sway, preach or prey in the vicinity of your wondrous parry-less-ness.
Ken Pepiton Jul 19
cognitive dis
sonnance sonic vibration shaking
the core
of our age

constant hey, hey look this way,
walk this way,
talk this way

groan, big stretch intended

to en
velope volve gauge and me
asure real if I can make
my bubble gobble yours,
you're in mine,

your's popped.
It's okeh, I expected you.
I prepared a place, come and see.

you can't go on pre
tending to aim at invisible hope
for things you see, right here.

The end of any mortal moment
is always near. In your heart, you know.
The kingdom of God (a term yet undefined),

if this is a place,
this stack of lines your learning lets you read,
is your heart-felt happiest place,

this is like heaven to you,
after all
is said, and done.
Ah, good news, the money needed to roof the garage came yesterday. Someone told me to expect it, and I did, but not with a lot of effort. I just ripped the old roof off and waited. My life is waxing odder every day. Great adventure, glad yo're hearing here...
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