Peculiar
Agreed?
How ******* clad lassies
Get the pass to show their ***
Long as nobody touches
Jiving gyrations
In counter-clockwise rotation
Seldom unescorted by damnation
By God, sense the relation
She's losing her patience
Can't afford to be a patient
So being patient...
That **** is ancient
Swanging ******* before eyes
Eyes that can't see
Eyes blind by the fuckery
***** get hickory
And the tic tickory of the clock
Stops
Drop drop
Shake that body for the coin
Make those men yearn to join
Their meat to your groin
Blind men throw out the presidents
Nixon Jackson Benjamin
Facts is
That these hoes stay cashing in
More than ****** busting traps
And toting gats to make stacks
Peculiar
Agreed?
How a ***** sell and smoke ****
High off they own supply
Baby mamas multiply
Covered all the **** by a lie
Making these young girls cry
And the innocent have to die
For this boy to strive
When you mad at the *** clap
Fat *** on a mans lap
Slow wine then fast
Slow grinding for cash
But no harm is caused
No obstruction of laws
But men be a "Boss"
& a woman... A loss

Each morning I awake
with a renewed hope
that my walk, my sifting
through the day
will become seamless
like the dreams of my nights
that flow from place to place
without barriers, or hindrances
to empathy, to understanding
Like the water seeps through the soil,
as the breeze blows through the leaves
in my dreams each of us
fully gather thoughts,
feelings and desires of each other
All relationships ensue
unescorted by impediments
My fear is that
few others dream this dream
rather haunted by
nightmares that bleed
into reality, nightmares
of violence, poverty, despair
of pockets of hell
growing around them
on this earth

Tall at the end of the shore, unescorted

As I eye you blur in distance

My naked feet on ground are ***** and stuck in long halt.

I hissed my solitude, I puffed the exhaust of your nearing,

Your coming, It is no beyond unattainable so I ought not be afraid.

Forever is what my heart aspire

So I stood tall, steady and untired.

I kept my knees unflex, hands rested on my chest,

The depth of longing pounding intensely,

Passion its beating, clearly and sunshiny.  

Along these lines,

Listen as the wind speaks my voice,

mindful and intent,

If, if only this is bright,

If, if only you care for a halt,

Then the heart is queer,

Will you row me in my endless dreams?

I send you my heart, in the words of this poem
please catch my dreams, in the starry sky
they are straight from my heart,
did you see the moon crying out our names
knowing our desires from afar
hanging from our sleeves
do you see Venus calling our souls
oh Dear Darling, what my heart did to me
when you had to leave...
Did my heart mention that I was foolish and cried
I was mistaking you for a star... I do not know why
except in my eyes you shine so brightly, I worship
you from afar...
My mind was clouded my eyes could not focus clear
for they had the tides of Neptune so concentrated
within a tear...
You see my darling, my love is true, since I met you
I fell in love that very night, when you said hello...
I want you with all our unbridled desires
in my innocence you once said, that arrives
with the springtime and just like our forbidden fruit
please become my final meal....
I try and compose melodies in those red creases of our hearts
as I remain inspired while I awake your awakening
even my skin lusts for your explicit touch...
As murmurs of combined passion become tidal waves
our souls are the split between the framework and doors
and I wonder unescorted through our Fragant Gardens of life....
My Darling, I send you this letter tucked inside my heart
I love you dearly I hope you see~
_________________

Deare­st, I answer your words
Your heart is dreaming a beautiful dream
With moon and the stars in your eyes
Your mind is filled with ecstasy
You are a woman in love - no alibi's ~
In the garden among the blossoms
You make the flowers blush .
In the bedroom you exhibit innocence
Until as a woman you experience the ultimate rush.
Lust is a powerful force
Awakening the beast with two backs
Sometimes giving you the courage
The other woman in you lacks -
Today a letter came from your world
Words of love shining like wet ink on the page
You wow all of my senses
Graceful - like a star on my stage ~
Your Love~

The only noise is a departing train
when I wake to daylight at eight o'clock.
The slow white edges darkness back in vain,
groping the averageness of the city block.
I know for certain, yet feel half-unsure,
life will always go on --
what about after I'm dead and gone?
Unfounded conviction beginning to blur,
I step outside to steady rain
Confronting an inarticulate pain:

most go unescorted to the grave.

All day long I try pushing back the thought,
try focusing on my tedious work,
but truest fear -- what was and now is not --
deepens like a glacial cirque.
Certainty's fickleness falls far away
as momentary happiness
from nowhere, more or less,
solidifies into one more day.

Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com  
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

                           The Emperor’s New Kafka

When an insect woke up one morning he found
Himself changed into a politician
And thus gatekeeper to Das Schloss, key clam
Through whom all arrival applications must pass

All shipping boxes to be checked for ticks
In a village that cannot be surveyed
Unescorted thinkers may not be seated
At corner tables in the Herrenhof

Many are desperate to be admitted
But few are desperate to be committed

They protect us 4m harassment
They saved us 4m abashment
They Clemented all types of bright
So we led a peachful night
They unescorted their family
So we chaperoned our ancestry
They uglify their life
So we glamorize our entity
They feed upon corpses
So we have sustenance
They gave up all their life
For the sake of the nation
They were caught,penalized, exploited,deprived, starved
At last they died
A salute to all those majestic soul...

Night is wise. From its silences sprout echoes in which restless musings find home. Where answers are found to problems shoved under the rug by the day's narcissistic hands. And inside which the world elopes through a starry tunnel of twirling memories, like autumn leaves kiss yellow forest beds – one by one.

He leaned against the rail, reading memoirs of sea like a devoted disciple of a December night, preserving the crash of clueless waves against helpless rocks in his mind. Rose fragrances trapped in chilly sea breeze tugged at a past, writhing in his head like sepia memories uncomfortably familiar. Nature, he thought, is a time capsule. When it speaks through the rustling of cedar branches, in the quietness filling violet landscape, reflected in shallow pools or through the spectacle of an awaited meteor shower, time stands still for a moment, the might of which would put eternity to shame.

Curious how sea waves would try to race against swift clouds, he wondered, only to be pulled back to their core by the unrelenting sea. Why is it that...

“What are you doing here all alone”, a voice shook him out of the trance. The man's ship of thoughts returned to a more human reality. He did not turn around to meet the eyes of this familiar girl.

“Music changed. Couldn't keep up with the rhythm.”

She walked upto the steps leading to rail on the balcony overlooking a tumbling cobalt Mediterranean. Proximity to her fragrance ate up into the refurbished armour of solitude he had cocooned himself in. Alas, nature unfolded itself in a feminine form when symphonies of all phenomenon reached a crescendo.

“It's chilly here. You should get inside.”

“No. I'm warm from the dance”, she replied leaning on the cold rail and grabbed it in her hands like a rudder-steer.

With eyes closed, girl turned her face upto the sky; a smile appeared on her small lips as moistness of a majestic sea breeze filled her senses. Underneath the stars, her skin glistened under reckless moonbeams accentuating each curve of her petite frame. He turned his audacious gaze to the girl, splendidly dressed in a maroon ball-room gown, beholding the sight of her visage as if etching it in memory. Painting her rose fragrance on shadow fountains this sparsely clouded sky makes on her gleaming skin, with whirls losing their way in maze of her hair, her sweetest breath swallowing his soul with blossoms of madness, he wished to keep it frozen in the cardiac cage for posterity. Perhaps it was smoke all around or everything else turned to static background noise, except her. She was gravity.

“He dances well. You both do I mean”, he said facing the sea again. He could bear this sight more easily.

“Doesn't the moon look beautiful tonight?”, the girl breathed in dreamily.

“And like all beautiful ladies, she must not be left unescorted”, replied the man .

She looked at him, trying to underline traces of emotion on his poker face. “Why're you so...”

“Not so much as you.”

Looking at her in eye for the first time, he added, “They'll announce dinner soon. I'll join in five”.

“Alright”, was her reply followed by a laboured smile as she walked back towards the grand ballroom. As the girl was about to reach the glass door, something halted her in the step and she turned around. An old memory.

“Hey, if you see a falling star, can you make a wish for me?”

Her demand was met with the slightest of nods before the man found himself lost again.

Maybe eons passed that night, after sound of her steps faded away into hums of soft music. Or maybe it felt so. But, he did not let a bead of moisture escape his eye once it begged to fall out. It did not deserve to be wished upon.

There is a mood
That seems missing
In the public square

Morning lyrics ring
With truculent sounds
Unescorted
By harmonious echos

Discerning pundits
Wonder aloud
Why divisiveness
Holds sway

Where oh where
Has civility gone

Lost in a forest
Of greed
Submerged in
A sea of avarice

separate from the swiss cheese tinderbox
in my deerskin hip fob... a white clot of cotton
and pistachio shells... milky with salt dust
and blind empty, like an open mouth.

separate from these. from the iron stalks of snow-melt
and the brittle tympani of my unescorted star.
from the compromise and the motives.... apart -
from all the art of my powerlessness.... [ and ] the polite dark -
of my open palm. like an open mouth.

I ***** for a river stone to whisper oceans too...
with a rope, and a loop. and a hole.

and always wanted too...

a circus once entertained
my hungering muse.

words flourished
from a vibrant quill.

inspiration evaporated
from pages of artwork,
as graphics appeared inferior.

feet paced forward
while left unescorted.

an artistical mind
forgot the words,

it once painted  
in intense colors.

Golden sun and molten chocolate
under a tree
full of birds singing
babies swinging and slipping
an old man sleeping
in dreamy reverie.

I took the second right
and right before me
emerged the paradise.

They pecked my cheeks
the children unescorted
wind spreading soft on my skin
their rose tinted saliva.

I pushed a swing
and her giggles
filled the air with mist.

She soared
and when almost
her feet touched the sky
came down upon the grass.

I took the second right
and there wasn't a park,
only dusty grills
with a rusted lock.

The rosy lips
were still whispering
on my cheeks.

You can’t help someone if they don’t want your help. You can’t love someone if they don’t love themselves. Cliches without empathy, absent of consent. It is better to have loved and lost than to never loved at all. Words devoid of sentiment, words that never loved them. Plenty of fish in the sea. That special someone. Contradictory platitudes serving to numb the pain of monogamy and the emptiness of “the field”. You always want what you can’t have. The grass isn’t greener on the other side. Eagerly encouraging everybody to be ensconced in their stagnate lives unescorted by passion. Life isn’t black and white. Things are not always as they seem. Seemingly congruent, yet irrevocably paradoxical. Critical thought at its core, always asks the same question, what for?

THE SMELL OF TIME

my shadow
stick in hand
leads me through streets

as if flesh and
blood were unreal
the cobbles try to trip me

the sun
falls like rain
making golden the town

a squashed pomegranate
its seeds scattered
on a yellow patch of light

the smell of time
almost unbearable to the dead
and to the living

an unescorted soap bubble
ventures across the street
bursts on a cat's whiskers

the cat black as black
lives in its own private time
independent of the world's

for a fleeting second as I
pass by and appear in
a reflection on a brass door ****

an old woman
drowning in a shadow
becomes a shadow

her violet eyes close
time winds backwards to
her first kiss

my shadow escapes
leaving me all alone
wondering who I am

a ghost's laughter
time is
nowhere to be seen

*

All the disconnected joined up in an emotional join-the-dots...what the mind in camera mode elects to notice...the happenstance of life...an emotional osmosis...culminating in the death of the lady with the "Elizabeth Taylor eyes."

I had passed by her when she was alive and when I returned I heard people speak of her death...I didn't know her....but she was said to have been a great beauty in her youth and was much sought after and fought over.

She had just eaten her rice congee with rousong and zha cai as she did everyday at the same time.

The details were all totally independent of each other and were busy just happening to themselves. I was only aware of the woman's presence in passing and when I passed back that way she had vanished and a crowd was in her place debating all the details of her life....hence my knowing of them and so all the beads of thought that can happen at a moment's notice got strung as a necklace of happenings and her death which I hadn't witnessed except from overhearing the witnesses speak of her provoked the last three lines and how easy it is to be here and not here in the time that Time evaporates. The cat with the bubble on its whiskers was the last thing I observed before I entered the circumstance and commotion of her death.

THE SMELL OF TIME

my shadow
stick in hand
leads me through streets

as if flesh and
blood were unreal
the cobbles try to trip me

the sun
falls like rain
making golden the town

a squashed pomegranate
its seeds scattered
on a yellow patch of light

the smell of time
almost unbearable to the dead
and to the living

an unescorted soap bubble
ventures across the street
bursts on a cat's whiskers

the cat black as black
lives in its own private time
independent of the world's

for a fleeting second as I
pass by and appear in
a reflection on a brass door ****

an old woman
drowning in a shadow
becomes a shadow

her violet eyes close
time winds backwards to
her first kiss

my shadow escapes
leaving me all alone
wondering who I am

a ghost's laughter
time is
nowhere to be seen