Cradle my emotions in the gentlest of whispers
Lace my heart with sultriest of ribbons
Fill full my sail with the worthiest of winds
Engulf my being in the sweetest of notions

Colour me beautiful with the most vibrant of rainbows
Propel my universe into the farthest reaches
Soothe my aches with the most abundant love
Carry my vessel to the sandiest of beaches

Embed my thoughts within the fluffiest clouds
Let soar my dreams on the bravest of kites
Set my destination in the furthest horizons
Present me with life's buffet with the tastiest of bites

I look with worried eyes, at social Vines, of flashing lights and a lack of rights.
Human compassion is lacking where it needs to be.
Hate feeds off of hate,
but if thats all it takes,
then love should come so easily.

Bashing in windows.
Spraying with mace.
Choking to death.
Eliminating race.
Classes are gone,
So classless mistakes,
are now made daily
at the hastiest rate.

We’re starving and hungry for the tastiest taste,
of what has become the most delicious
most suspicious,
vicious,
fishy,
repetitious,
superstitious,
vision named freedom.

It's naive to think we’re free when all that we see,
is a sea of beings not being one thing,
and that’s free.
When was the last time you felt it?
And we’ve been given a life long song and dance of "whoever smelt it dealt it".
So if you took the feeling of now and held it,
bottled it up and shelved it,
you would open up to find your mind in decline.
This moment was better
while laters behind.
Thats the path that we’re on
but we have control.
We’re not egos and clothes,
we’re people of souls
We're humans of thought
Not students of hate.
Evil got a head start,
but now truth is in the race.
And if truth is in your face,
and you choose to look away,
then get used to the abuse
and not confused at truce-less fates.
The pre action of action is thinking to act.
I'm thinking that actually we’re ready to snap.
They’ve bent us too far,
for us to go back.
The past is a place where patterns attack.
And people are put
no matter the facts.
Police are afoot
demanding the last,
of freedoms they take them,
and **** them with gas.
A historical scene on Kentucky blue grass
these colors don't bleed,
yet we see they fade fast.
We’ve exceed the need,
to keep things intact.

I wasn't looking for Ana—I had just seen her around

I didn't try to find her—it was me that was found

I wouldn't have guessed that we'd ever meet

But Ana's so clever—she just can't be beat

She'll crawl through a window when you close all the doors

And Ana, she's looking to settle a score

At first it was hard (controlling the greed)

But I've learned that Ana's the only friend I need

Free as a bird, light as a feather

I'm only happy if we are together

When the 'real' me started to show through my skin

people said, "you look so pretty, you look so thin"

No one realized I wasn't yet done

Cause Ana's work had only just begun

I realized I wasn't quite yet ideal

Life would be better if I skipped a few meals

As the scales dipped lower in my favor

I discovered 'skinny' was the tastiest flavor

Angles are corners, and corners can hide

Everything fat and twisted inside

When people started giving me looks

I smiled and said 'control' is all that it took

They shook heads, mouths curling down

I returned their disgust with a guarded frown

My friends tried to beg me to eat

But Ana just wouldn't let me cheat

Ana said eating was giving into fear

How could we stop when perfection was so near?

My parents told Ana was giving them a scare

But they didn't understand me so I didn't care

They told me Ana wasn't all that she seemed

But Ana had helped me achieve what I dreamed

Ana's the greatest and truest of friends

She promises that I'll be beautiful close to the end

It's Ana who holds my hair and lets me release

Whenever the urge to purge doesn't cease

Ana, oh Ana, so sneaky and wise:

"We're going to be friends until one of us dies"

I have to hide her away, people just don't approve

Ana's in my life and she can't be moved

Even if they tried, they couldn't take her away

Ana's in my heart and she's here to stay

People won't ever find in me what they seek

Because Ana has helped me perfect my technique

Then one day I felt more pain in body than in my heart

And I realized it was too late for me and Ana to be apart

Go ahead and befriend Ana if you dare

But reader, oh reader, please beware

You think that it's Ana who truly cares

But it's Ana who will haunt you everywhere

Once Ana gets a grip on you, she won't give you up

She'll just throw out your plate and empty your cup

"When people try to help, don't let them in"

See? With Ana, you can never win

After a while, she's gained all your trust

"lose more" she whispers, and you know that you must

For Ana's the master and you are the slave

She'll punish you sorely if you misbehave

It's too late by the time you realize the monster she's made

That's when you've already begun to fade

Please listen, dear reader—it's not the weight

It's not you—it's Ana that you truly hate

Ana's a wolf disguised as a sheep

But she'll stay by your side when death comes to reap

Ana and Mia are one in the same

Eventually it's your soul that they finally claim

I was fourteen when I paid the ultimate price

From taking dear Ana's 'helpful' advice

“Cold snowflakes upon my arm

the winter shine peeking through a crack in the blinds

a breeze of ice engulfing the room through a window left ajar

a land covered in a shiny white blanket.”

Winter has come. Cue the thick padded coats and the parkas of every color of the rainbow! Behold the sleds and skis and the beautiful Siberian huskies who pull them. Await the closing of schools and the temperature drops, keeping people in and making children everywhere euphoric as ever. The time has come for skating upon rivers of ice, and joyous dinners in warm wooly sweaters as families gather around to indulge in the tastiest of food. Fireplaces shall again be lit in all households of old, and stockings hung up early in preparation for Christmas. Happy smiles all around, engaging in snowball fights and the building of snowmen.

Ah but winter is as winter does. As numbers reach the negatives, heaters are turned up to the warmest possible, insulating the beings in a home and using electricity. What about those without a home? Those who are confined to the streets of the city, waiting for the cold to eat their bodies up and leave them in a state of rigidity? They are left to waste. Left to succumb to the bitterness of winter, with no sustenance whatsoever or any form of water to soothe their burning throats. The cold will conceal them in a cover of white death, a prison of snow. And in the early mornings of every winter-filled day, a machine is sent out to collect the bodies of those who have been imprisoned by the winter. The one operating the machine weeps silent tears for these ice prisoners before bringing their poor souls elsewhere.

Winter is two-faced, and she is both beautiful and terrible as the morning and the night.

(lunarlullubies)

This is one of Barry Hodges' most inspired memories.

  'Twas morning time in times of yore and I, bold Barry Hodges, stood outside my store, my giant vegetables on display for all to see, when lo and behold! a luxurious limousine drew up, and from the back there emerged a gorgeous form of voluptuous statuesque feminity.
  "My God!" I cried, it is that beauteous lady from *La Dolce Vita, the wondrous Anita - and I gazed with joyous on her divine body, imagining it sprawled lasciviously in my bed, legs open as wide as a major road junction on the M1 motorway.
  "Excuse me", said she in that Italo-Swedish voice guaranteed to make any man wet himself copiously, "But I am a-lookink for a shop a-called 6B, and yet all I can-a-see is a Barry Hodges' the Master Geengrocer's, complete with a giant cucumber or two, which I 'av to say remind me of somet'ing tasty."
"Dearest lady, said I, you have come to the right place: 6B is the trading name of my sister enterprise: Barry Bodgers' Boil Bursting Beauty Bureau which is located upstairs, Barry Bodgers at your service, my dearest, most delightful Fru Ekberg."
"Shhhhhhhhh! I am een deesguise, not even dear Federico knows I am-a-here." And thus, assuring her of my utmost discretion, and forming a bond by saying that I too, the famous Geordie seducer, Barry Hodges, had indulged in a slight nomenclatural change in order to separate the two sides of my business interests, and in order to do a spot of money laundering on the side.  "But," I enquired, "How is it that you have need of the rather specialised medical services we offer, you who are so radiant and bella-bella?" She lowered her eyes seductively and promised to reveal her terrible secret.

As I ushered her up the stairs to the studio, my eyes on her ****-cheeks wiggling like two delectable beach ***** in a sack, she told me the sad tale of the immense boil which kept recurring on the middle of her back and which no amount of corrective surgery could fix.
"Aha!" I exclaimed, "Only Barry Bodgers, the world's greatest boil-sucker, can effect the cure for which you long, and I shall operate on you personally, not entrusting such a task to even the best of my boil-bursting minions." I added to myself, "Also I want to give you a good old bonking while we're at at."

Once we attained the privacy of my consulting room, I instructed her to strip off utterly so I might examine her, and I can tell you, dear reader, that her **** **** was a joy to behold. I too divested myself of my clobber, knowing that boil-******* can get a bit messy at the best of times. Jesus wept!, but the mighty boil betwixt her graceful shoulders revealed when de-plastered was a true horror, with a yellow tip as big as a Grade One Belgian Turnip. I explained that I would **** it out whilst I rogered her from the rear and that, when she felt her ****** on the way, she should scream out to that effect and I would then bite the core of the boil right out in a blaze of mutual ******* glory, before applying a dose of my exclusive Boil Preventative Cream, namely a handful of our conjoined love-juices extracted from her gaping ***** by hand a few seconds earlier.
"Yes! Yes! Yes!" screamed the Swedish bombshell and with a mighty **** like an industrial Dyson FX334 on full power, I slurped and  razor-bit the boil, bursting it asunder, smothering my eager face in blood and putrid pus, thereby causing me to blow my *** as ne'er before. The green core of the boil emerged from its fleshly cavity with a deafening plop as we came together like a nuclear blast d'amour.

O, but only then, as my seminal outpourings soaked my jim-jams, did I awaken to discover yet another nocturnal emission. And, not unexpectedly, dear Nurse Nellie, having heard my cry of ecstasy, rushed in to my bedroom, head-shaking and tut-tutting as usual, as she knelt down and licked my tum-tum dry.
"Yum, yum" she murmured in her dulcet Northumbrian tones, "Ah've looked after three generation o' Hodges laddies, and I kin tell ye, your *****'s the tastiest of them all, ye bonnie wee man."
"Better than Grandad Charlie's?"
"Why aye, mon, yours is well creamier."

My elephants body is
Yellow and black
He has a pumpkin orange head
Be careful when you hit his
White striped trunk
It'll knock you dead
He has flopped out ears
And glass tusks instead
And i fill him with only
The tastiest flowers
I myself have bred
My elephant is a bubbler
The hitters on the back of his dome
So when you hear that bubbling crue
You'll know
Theres an elephant in the room

She is dressed in her pajamas
She breathes nothing but the smell of the tastiest food you will ever taste
She sips coffee three times a day
One in the morning after her breakfast
One at noon before her lunch
And one at six o'clock in the afternoon
Always with cardamom and a hint of sugar
Her hair is always *******
She wears three pairs of socks when it's cold
Her favourite companion during the day is a TV set
And at night,
When her husband and two kids are home
She already smells like food and cardamom.
She takes a hot shower
Wears a clean pajama
Puts on three new pairs of socks
And slips into her bed
While murmuring the lyrics of her favourite Spanish song



- LynnAA

ima Docter Jedingaling
and i have news thats so great its
ok
the sun wont blow up to day
and aleins wont eat ourr brains
probably
actually
aleins would only want to eat mah brains
because im smarterer that everyone
and smarterer brains are the tastiest
and full of calcium
and protein
and nutricous fats
and carbs
and starches
and vitamins
and minerals
and potassium
and sodium
and prunes
and fiber
and brainy stuf
and thoughts
and uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh­hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh­hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh­hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

stuf that ur brain doesnt have
trust me ima docder
that might be  eaten           by aleins
but they wont
cause i ate my prunes to day
with mah PhD
cuz a used it like a spoon

Just Drinking
A lot of drinking just occurred but I’m not addressing that I wish to deal with the great drink of life the drinking we do of one another
They tell how great scotch is determined and known by the stream beds that it passes over maybe we will get back to the rocks
The same way with grapes for wine they choose hard ground the kind that makes the vines struggle it produces the tastiest wine
Like it or not we are a race of discrimination we know what is good and we know when something is cheap other words we have taste
This never happens for a reason a person doesn’t set out to live a perfect life what bland useless results would happen if you tried
To order everything into a sterile clean environment they have a lot of words depicting that kind of a life and none are good we don’t
Care or like trouble but it’s the sand the grit that makes the pure and richest pearls we drink so much in a person their outward life
Comes from hidden springs from within and that is the constant surging of streams that converge mingle change enrich and then
Flow on till the next encounter heartache storms in your life these are the head waters all else flows in behind this makes life worth
Living if everything was perfect and saccharine sweet we would be a bunch of dolts it would be like a world of sameness all white no
Color no verifiable difference no need to worry from each life there has been a tempering process a refining a class not perfectly
Defined but seen wondered about and enjoyed the greatest word would be their stimulating the time you spend with them there life
Flows through your eyes and ears into deep recesses of the soul stirred blessed refreshed even refracted bends blends seeks at times
Depths this can’t come from a guarded unlived life but one who knows the byways knows about the tangle wood knows doubts fears
Fought through them you are giving this transference it’s not always upfront verbal out in the open but its life experience cloaked in
Shadow it moves between two hearts imperceptibly but that is its great worth it will raise in quiet thought and a smile will break in
Unexpectedly we also like to figure out things use our brains mindless is for some other creatures not us we have consolations in our
Beings as great and diverse as the consolations that hold the stars yes we live in normal surroundings no one believes that is all there is
If they do how diminished is their thinking well springs flowing out in great torrents is the reality we are stories with high drama people
Of consequence we change the world in increments we increase the value of earth’s existence the division of death is sad and painful
For us left here but they instantly receive immortal thoughts immortal deeds they cast about in unknown worlds their value and
Promise is now uninhibited no longer restricted or confined to the features of this world everything you saw and loved in them
Resounds through the heavens which was their destiny and ours celebrate their elevation throw your soul into that flow here and now
Cast yourself into the howling wind it is only fierce because so much is going on in a grander scale drink my friends from the waters
That have no end be awed be overwhelmed flow away prematurely into your future loved ones are there you are predominate in their
Minds and hearts don’t except or believe your life is one that is to be stymied no it is without limits floor it remember the exhilaration
Its up to you what you get is determined by you safe living is not living

Oh precious Hyacinth, in my eyes a jewel
In front of your radiance, my knees fell
You’re like a glistening pearl in a ****** shell
I am enamored by your enthralling spell

Listen everyone to Zephyrus’ Serenade for Hyacinth!

Oh King of Sparta, you bear the tastiest fruit
On the land he is the handsomest youth
This is for everyone a crystal clear truth
That’s why in my heart the arrows of Eros shoot

Listen everyone to Zephyrus’ Serenade for Hyacinth!

Oh precious Hyacinth, you have equaled the glamour of a god
Your face is fairer than any mortal lad
Your muscles are firmer than any man had
Because of such beauty, you make me feel glad

Listen everyone to Zephyrus’ Serenade for Hyacinth!

Oh King of Olympus, let me have this seductive mortal
For him my godly being turned carnal
The appeal of his flesh is oddly unusual
I want him to be mine for time eternal

Listen everyone to Zephyrus’ Serenade for Hyacinth!

Oh precious Hyacinth, under my wings you’ll never fall
Come to the West Wind’s most desperate call
To you I’ll reserve the prettiest room in my hall
The most romantic & blissful haven for all

Listen everyone to Zephyrus’ Serenade for Hyacinth!


Oh deities & humans, grant me this costly man
Boreas, Notus, Eurus, bring me this heavenly Spartan
Let our powerful Anemoi bequeath him from his clan
Turn him over to the Western Wind, his greatest fan!

Listen everyone to Zephyrus’ Serenade for Hyacinth!


-02/11/2015
(Dumarao)
*Hopelessly Immortal Collection

Stabbing the air
As if punching a bag that is not there
Fighting biting scratching screaming teething kneading spreading
One's heart
One's thoughts
One's utter unnecessary battery like life
Plugged in to a machine that doesn't even know your name
But you believe your life is your life
Though that thing don't believe the same
It can't believe for it just obeys
To its own operations its own policies its own demented source of dreaming
To be out in the street head bent back
Pleading God to come down and pick your rusted lock
Gravel in your hair from sleeping in too many ditches
Spit upon by every passing bride and millionaire groom
Stuck in between the middle and one's idea of what it means to gain fame
Pleasantries don't mean a ****** thing nowadays
Neither does this
Words were once worshipped but now are just seen as lowly and decent
Each hour is passing towards an end I wish not to see
The prophets have come and gone
I watched them all chewing my bazooka gum
Holding my truth like I was gripping a revolver gun
Pick the beetles from your mattress
Peak past the dusty and greying blinds
The world is moving with or without you baby
High power or not your the only one I know that can save me
Time tells its own story so try not to try to hard when doing so
We are servants to ourselves yet we admit no sinful fault
Begging to the mirror for satisfaction for another kind of transcendent gain
I have mentioned this to the night
As they put their knit nighty cap on
Where they only smiled and winked saying
"Now you are starting to think"
Long in my solitude have I seen the lepers pray for their limbs
As well as the artists all starving believing they are actually martians
The tree jumpers mentioning their methods as if it were a blessing
In jail the cooks threw books in the tastiest stews
From Jack K. to Ol' Stan to even Freddy Crazed Blue
Happiness is the place where one can get as close to the sun
Nirvana is the step just before you hear the shot of the gun
Life is the stepping stone you balance on just before you fall
A woman you love is the finest fortune until she makes you crawl
And then when we are together
When we have found our freedom and the MAN is dead
Who will then decide the direction which our race should be lead?
Revolution is the solution which may in the end cause more pollution
A stepping stone in time where I am I apart yet not holding the cart
Activity yet negativity for the world is its own friend
Only in nature is peace justified by the rules which we have always been governed
The beast rests not in our bodies but in our minds
Balance the beast
And
Live free
With your wriggling fingers
And
Your stinky feet

Sitting around the patchy tree stumps at Sagar’s Cafeteria,
Campus was not solitaria*.
Listening to songs saved on our tiny phones, decade ago,
We devoured the sound of silence and the fields of athenrye
Together.

We lit mary jane and made merry singing along to ***** Gun
in broad daylight without the purview of uni cam puns.
Who cared if it was just a five-minute break from Hemangadutta
Or Sheeba’s hungry call for relief,
we made it seem wakeable in the dewy morns.

Sagar’s had the tastiest samosa, chicken puff
and Tiger biscuits so cheap we could fudge it in the lassi whuff.
Days and months went by hovering around Sagar than classes.
We never saved pennies, we spent bills on choora
from our pocket monies for bura.

I met an eccentric fisherman today
He was five foot five  with a beard
Seven foot seven

As gant as the pole in his hands
And more bronze than my shower taps
He had a salty grin and six black teeth

'Ye fancy fish, interior boy?'
S sounds whisled
'Aye got one ere for ye then lad'

It floundered in my tender land hands
It's gills flapped open like window blinds
'Relinquish me boy'

'Wet my skin in the waters of home,
And I'll trade a desire for my freedom'
I gazed at the fisherman

He had disappeared

'Release this fish and I'll grant
The deepest wish for ye, small ant.
For my power is great'

I'm hungry, powerfish
I haven't eaten for days
Could you give me that?

'A simple wish, a gift most easily given
Drop me boy and you'll taste heaven'
It floundered

Water splashed my face as the fish
Swam away from the shore.
Where is my meal, oh powerfish?

'Fool hearted boy, simpleton left hungry
Never trust fish or else ye angry
Enjoy the hunger lad
I'm the tastiest fish you could have had!'

Rain and all its forms
Blurred Mountains seeping into the borders
surrounding
A little village
Grey on the horizen
Ocean way way below the village
Down the mule trails
Scraping in coils
Pebble linings
Down to the mediteranean sea
In this village
Cobble streets
Coloured roof tops
Crumbling houses
Empty clotheslines
Except a few wet clothes hanging
Forgotten faded red shirt
Hanging from one season
To the next
Water drips and dances bouncing from stone to stone
Wooden shoes clack quickly
As they rush over the street
A lady
Wearing hand woven clothes
warm fresh flat bread
Wrapped in cloth
And in a basket.
A young boy follows her
His sweater held over his head
Eyes obscurred
He walks as though in a maze
Then they are gone
Empty streets
A round woman, hair ******* with a faded white rag cloth
Empties out steaming hot water
From a copper ***
Soapy steam
In the rain
Alley way
Side door
Not much activity
A girl sits looking out observing
Watching the rain
Smelling the warmth
Rising from the bakery down below
She remebers the hustling market, the colors when in the sun
The shuffling people
In sunglasses
New people
Sun season
Different apearences than the ones she knows
The ones shes used to
The skin foreign to her.

She likes her room
With the elephants in the rug
Little marchers
Within the mandela sequince
She likes the bakers down below
Aunts and uncles
Unsure of who's family
By blood
And who's family
In spirit.
She likes the old man
Who sits with his cane
In the little sitting chair
In front of the bakery
He who treats her to a cookie every now and then
Or slips her a piece of sweet bread
He, who wears an old black cap
And puts on his coat
And hobbles down the little street
She waits for him sometimes
She sits perched outside and looks down the street
From right to left
Until she hears the familiar clatter
The sound of his wooden cane on cobblestones
Each who carry their own divine essence
Or sound to which they bring
A memory of her father comes to mind
How differently he sounds when he walks
Gentle and slow
Heavy and kind
Compared to her mother
soft and light
Swift like a feather
in the wind
Sweet like a berry.
The girl sometimes likes rainy season more
Although she misses the hustle and bustle of market day
In the sun
When the lively noises fill her ears
The wild smells
When the bakery arises before the crack of dawn
And the smell of fresh bread awakes her
Smells of new special treats
Made larger and larger
Just to apeal and to please
The large crowds.
The sounds of bakers
Yelling orders back and forth
Clanging pots
A madness of creation.
Grand cakes
Thousands of tarts
Each one delicatly made with care.

When the people make extravagant delicacies
When goats are roasted
And fresh tomatoes
Made into scrumptious sauces
With fresh basil.
Olives pickled and handed out on toothpicks
By yelling merchants
The best olives in the region shouts one
Across the street, the bestsest shouts another.
Most
spectacular
Imaginative
Freshest
Most this
Or that
Yummiest
Tastiest
Wildest
Amzingest
Greatest.
In her mind the images play
Like moving dolls

In full vibrancy.

For a second she forgets
Her placement
She has returnes back to the heat
And the memories
Of men in white undershirts
Smoking outside
Playing cards and waiting for the sun to dry
the rest of their clothes
The bantering ladies
From window to window.
She gets lost,
until the sound of a door loudly shutting in the streets awakes her
Jumping up
Looking out the window
Still silence
Nothing in sight.

Drizzles of rain
The sound it makes
When it slides down the roofs
She misses the heat
Of the bustling summer day
But in secret
she likes the rain
The silence and comfort it brings.
She likes the rain and the lonliness.
The solitude.
the sounds of her parents sleeping
Yawning.
a distant kettle whistling,
A neighbors.
The desolatation.
Patters of rain.
She likes to have both seasons
One season to live
And the
other to dream.

Acknowledge
The day that I come home late at night
for the 113th night in a row
and there are bumps and bruises kissing my bones,
there are dirt and grass stains painting my knees and clothes,
there are patches on the gear, on the pants, on the skin
from rips of rad that stroke my discomfort and
grant me a fight to win against fear.
and there are eye wrinkles made of fun times
forming around bags of forgotten sleep.

Say thanks for the day that comes
when I clamor in the doorway, hand in hand with selflessness
riding a wave of giggles on a board of undying flirtatious hilarity
into a house that radiates warm simplistic comfort
but has no locks
so I may come and go
to and fro
from every day a new adventure and
new states and new sights and new lives.
Always coming back to the dog-fur lined rug
that tickles my circular toes as I drag them over
on my way to fill a thermos with the tastiest brew
that will wash away the dust that coats my guzzling esophagus
and fill my belly with the mountain’s leftovers, satisfying my hunger.
But not for long, only until the sun rises again and it is morning

And it will be another day that needs appreciating,
for when it gets here I will be alive and called forth
to smooch the lips of the land and its most important creatures
puppies, kittens, bees and bugs
whose love is as constant as
the beating of my wild and hefty heart
and the breathing of my battered and blessed breath
with silence and rest  
between each passionate pulse.
Pauses that will be treated with understanding
by those who love with a kind of love
that keeps persevering
that does not fear dormancy
that is as determined as
our intention to live our lives beyond what is expected.
This type of love and those who share it with me
will be Nature’s gifts that make me owe her
something greater that gratitude,
And at morning light on each day that comes, I will go out
and play with the winds
and babysit the plants
and learn from the birds
who will send me off with homework about listening
and about singing songs out of selfless selfishness:
songs not written for the audience or the demand
but with the intent to make people listen and
make it change them for better
whether they want it to or not.
And sometimes the lessons will be tough,
harder than the rocks and cliffs that provide me a playground between classes.
Sometimes the work will go untouched on my desktop because I know
I will get distracted by the Milky Way patterns splattered around me
made from creative bursts of the Sun’s best friends.
But eventually I will find my way back on a road of traced constellations
on the moley face of the ultimate mountain man,
who will flip back open my books and
point to nirvana among the pages of life’s endless studies,
emphasizing and underlining key points with
pens of self-awareness and highlighters of supportive independence.
And he will bookmark the important parts
with reminders of the first time
that I licked my lips
and loved the salt I tasted
and realized that it is just the right amount for the recipe
that makes the tough cookie that I have turned out to be.
A recipe that has been fine-tuned by role models with a taste for bravery
and better baking skills than Martha Stewart, Rachael Ray, and Paula Deen
Combined.
And these cherished bookmarks will litter life
with humble self-love and prideful love for everything else in the world.

And hopefully a satisfactory love for these days that will come,
The days when loving is precisely what is done at all times,
even while bears nap beside our sleeping heads and puke garbage belly.
I will forgive them because I shouldn't have let them get into the trash
in the first place.
Anyways, it will be impossible to be mad while giddied by the silver lining
that shines around all the bad things that just look like storm clouds
to those who predict rain.
The rain is not under our control, so why fight it?
I will not seek to tempt fate nor die unsure of its reasoning
But rain often seems pretty purposeful
and I know where I am going so I will go with purpose
and I know I will be finding good people
in the right place at the right time
whose importance I will never second guess.

But Never forget to thank them for existing
and recognize that the rain and storms that have flooded me
have also made me a river of forward momentum,
and it will be my duty to rescue those who cannot stand stronger than the current.
My quads are toned for they've fought the waves until I stood.

It will be a long, hard day of nothing less than living fully
and watching plans perpetually come to fruition
and giving all of myself to the earth and others
and lovingly recognizing that I have the life that I have worked so hard to live.
When it is finally time for rest and
the universe, with its royal authority, has knighted me
with all of these gifts and responsibilities,
I will get onto the snoozetrain to ZzzzzTown,
curl up in a beam of moonshine then tuck myself in.
With batted eyelashes, heavy eyelids, sore body,
I will sleep so deeply and dream precisely my reality.
And have not a single dream to tell in the morning,
Except for the occasional one about dragons.

One of the most fragile creatures known on this earth...
It's wings lighter then a single feather of a bird, it's wings are it's prize and worth...

More then a design of beauty, but an artwork purposely fashioned
So delicately it dares to sore with it's enemies in the sky, although it's small and passionate...

It's weak flutter is what gives itself the power to rise.
Small and beautiful, just like most models, but too soon, it dies..

Isn't it filled with complete innocence? Absolutely Not!  
For it stole from the plant that offered it's self as it's home! This was the little Caterpillar's plot!

For the beginning of it's life, it was surround by the world that was large and gigantic!
It took what it's selfish flesh desired, although it wore a disguise that was anything but frantic.

It's small head always looking up for more, but not even the tastiest leaf nor string of grass could satisfy
It was soaked up by the dirt's promise for fulfillment and the  grounds believable lies

If it was wise, it would climb up the rough bark of a tree...
Though it may stumble more then it would on the ground, at the end, it'll soon see that it'll be set free...

The realization of the submission to the wind became it's dream
The acknowledgement of the heavens surrounded it's theme

Slowly locking it'self in a cocoon to suffocate and silencely ****** it's sinful past
It's change of mind and soul transformed itself into a floating mast

The mystery of this transformation no creation can define nor grasp
When it finally rips away it's old flesh, a new beginning has finally clasped

It eye's pop out, now fully unblinded from the distractions of the ground
It's body now weightless, free from it's burdens, it's sky like desires were found

A new creature, a new creation, has used its finished painting as wings to reveal its duty
What it is weak in size and strength, it makes up for in character and beauty

What use to be selfish and rude is now compassionate to nature with every flutter
The stars of the ground of flaring colors share it's sweet drink with it's new friend,  this change of hearts causes it's enemies to shutter

The priceless beauty it contains is more then just an mask, but also
an act for it's enemies!
Willing to sacrifice it's self for it's kind, some will surrender their poison filled bodies, killed helplessly

Determined to distract, Skillfully willing to scare, these little ones will do anything.
Protecting countless eggs, so they too may learn about the freedom through the flap of a wing

Their portrait of many colors signify the mercy of a Flame we deserve
Beautifully created, and light in flight, our eyes able to examine such a jewel is grace that we need to preserve*

There is a flame... do you dare want to experience it?

~

coffee kisses

'tween mister and misses,

sharing... life's tastiest wishes!

~

*post script.

my profile reveals a tiny secret
(: Steve

(: no... its not 10w Tuesday, but Sunday seemed so much more appropriate for this :)

My dad now owns a cafe on Saturn
It is called the goody two shoe inn and last night I came in to the goody two shoe inn to say hello to dad and he was working with his current earth life's brother robin Williams
And the cafe was totally crowded, dad made me a vanilla methane slice and a methane smoothie and it was the tastiest I have ever tasted
You see I saw Mohammed Ali
Walk in to buy a Saturn quality beer and I can tell you over the course of the night Mohammad
Really enjoyed it and then my brother walked in and said dad
Are you working here are you
And dad said yeah, I have to keep busy up here or I will get bored from all this space junk
And dad gave my brother a can of Saturn's finest beer and then after that he served David Campbell who is dads new father and dad gave him a nice methane smoothie and David said why can't you give this service to your earth body Betty
And dad said I am trying dad and suddenly turned into his earth life Betty and this woke David up and me well I was partying with David Bowie
And mate wasn't it the best party indeed and as he sang the song all the young dudes I remembered when Patrick played that song for me
And I went to the bar to buy 17
Methane smoothies for everyone here and dad said
Enjoy your night and I said I will
And went over to the dance floor to party and I was getting down to every song that David Bowie sang especially ground control to major Tom and after David Bowie left then slim dusty entered the stage with his first song Duncan
Here goes
I would love to have a beer with Brian
I would love to have a beer with
Brian
We drink in moderation
And never no never we get rolling drunk
We drink all over Saturn
Making Brian's father very proud
I would love to have a beer with Brian cause he is my mate
I would love to have a beer with David I would love to have a beer with him
I really would love to drink with
David Campbell
Cause drinking with him can make the future all so dim
We drink all over Saturn
As he checks on his daughters last life's last life that is grand
I would love to have a beer with
David cause he is a good mate
And then I went to the bar and asked dad for another methane smoothie and dad was knocking off so me and my brother and dad had a few drinks before they woke up
And I stayed at the club and had many more methane smoothies as I partied all over
An Aussie Saturday morning

She took me by the hand,
guided my fingers,
& my wanton-mouth
along the smooth contours
of her beautiful landscape.

I touched butterfly wings,
nipped high rosy cheeks,
tasted her full parted lips,
felt the cool rush of
her fragrant breath
& gently-bit
the slenderness
of her delicate neck.

She beckoned me
to move slowly onward,
toward her
twin heaving peaks,
where I learned
of more sensual-things.

She taught me about
the gentle twisting of granite,
slow-swirling-kissing,
& of the nibbling
of puffed sensitive-flesh.
It was exquisite.

Then she begged me
to quickly move southward,
over her rolling meadow,
upward & onto
her delicious-mound,
to use my yearning mouth
in fiery sensuous-ways.

There,
I fervently frolicked,
relished in
the tender petals
her pretty lady-flower,
gently spreading
her cascading beads
over magnificent
swollenness.

And when I caressed
her unfolding petals,
the most sensitive part,
she reached nirvana,
shuddered & spasmed,
released her rawness,
the tastiest of flow.
It was genuine intimacy.

Once,
only the Lord knew
how much I loved
my personal body guide
& know you too,
know the reasons why,
she is so lovely
& divine.

Chocolate is real tasty.
In much candy it is found.
It's found in many desserts.
It's prized for its taste renowned.

Dark chocolate is healthy.
It's said to be medicine.
When it is found in milkshakes,
Many taste buds it does win.

When it comes to making fudge,
The tastiest it does make.
When you ask for chocolate,
Seldom is is it a mistake.

When you get your sweet a treat,
And it's St. Valentine's Day,
Chocolate is a safe choice.
Many words its taste will say

Your small, fleshy, red fruit, hidden neath your flesh,
and the protuberance of your smooth pit, entice me
into submission.. And your flavor is the sweetest,
juiciest, tastiest fruit ever..

Chocolate is my best friend
I can't live without it
To me it's the tastiest thing in the world

The lion stepped out into the sun
And rubbed his side against a tree.
Surveying his exhibit at the animal park,
He said, "This is the life for me!

"Dinner is served on a regular basis;
I never have to hunt for my food.
I'm served the tastiest horsemeat and mutton.
I even eat rabbit when I'm in the mood.

"There's no fighting to defend my territory;
That to me is a huge relief.
My kickback style might surprise some
And go against popular belief.

"The lady lions share my feelings;
They like my pomp, my manner, my style.
At the same time, they can appear
A bit stand-offish once in a while.

"I can be lazy and sleep for hours,
Or if I choose, I'll romp and play.
And when I start to feel a bit frisky--
Well, THAT'S a topic for another day.

"My friends in the wild suffer from afflictions--
An illness, an infection from a small ****….
If I catch a cold or need attention,
The humans are here to help in a flash.

"Visitors sometimes get on my nerves
As they stand and gawk and stare.
But when that happens, I can always
Ignore them or go off and hide in my lair.

"Or I can lie here and stare at the humans
And fantasize and imagine how great
It could be one day to find
A delicious human on my plate.

"I remain the king of the beasts;
The other animals still quake when I roar.
(Some of the non-differentiating types
Even tremble when I snore.)

"Ah, yes," (yawn) "I have it easy.
Although many would NOT agree.
As far as THIS lion is concerned,
My life is really the life for me."

- by Bob B

Could I have a piece of poetry please
With a slight rhyme on the side
A haiku or a sinew
On which a man could dine

The tastiest of tidbits
That I would care to read
Just enough to fill me up
This plate of poetry

Pour on the best in condiments
Cut a limerick from the bunch
Now with all of that said I think
I'll sit down and do lunch

All but the Tastiest Stars recommend
The very Batch of Lights we should absorb
And you, pity must your Choices first end
Decide the Easy Kilogramme at-store
I should have known this; But what has been
Drink the Passioned Chalice prescribed by choice
Which, merry-mastered as you should have seen
Up-Turn a table Jolly Jesters voice
Now whose Scale weighs? Without the aid of Gold
Judge whose Denser Form labels sentient
Mine the Sour Air; Yours the Sweetest Hold
Either which pick the Prime and Pertinent.
I'll take my Leave. But not a Coward's Coat
To wear the Moon's shoulders; Yet still do gloat.