Sign In
Register
Wisdom, do anything for love, One cannot administer feeling, Smoking trees and tending buds; Ashore a flood, Amore my love, Shores complain not of fumbles, Nor bees of bumbles. Horse contained not by hurdles, Nor flees or humbled. No fleas or bugs, or jungles. A girl, reserved forever, supple, Personal, plain, non functional, Is she a butt joke, or punchline? Regret, or spend time a spindle, Two too many, to twine a stick, Rope simply frayed on four ends. Portend of trouble, Poor tend to nothings, Their lovers forever troubling, Who casts shadow twice a valley, Humble?
Railing, mirth like nail files, Failure at the last mile, paling, Valencia mailing, orange letters: "Hello, my love endearing, Are you not hearing my words, Cello, or Othello reading." Orator deceiving, apportioned more, For boys, they are but fleeting, Foreign peering at another girl. Teenage to be, card or palm reading, Do my feelings mean nothing more? A chore on your list of meetings, Suit, Tie and your railing grasped tightly. I might be a fool for lies and deceit, Ununique like an onion, carrot or leek: "Choose me please, you need to eat. Color me pink or beat me anew, kneed, Until I am bread, so says the meat." Your railing a crutch, always needed, Like carrot bread has disgusting features, You have disingenuous dealings with realism.
My heart filled with love, Only my paintbrush coveted. Simply a coward with canvas, To give forms anew, forever, Formula new, for you toward, Perhaps to give in retort. To highlight, grey, Brush dusty and disdain, My desires of microphones, Speakers though, just saying.
Fruitful sword lily ablush Nestled in gardens lush Pigments triumph aplenty Resilient verdant sentry Colossal erectile shoots Ingrain deep abyssal roots Precious tis platinum spun Abreast a rising sun Glorious tis a supple reign Aubade a beauteous refrain Vibrant a gladiolus plant Borne on Gaia’s decant Traverse archaic path Helios waning wrath Shadows await dusk Absconding obligant musk
Reading of lives I enjoy deceit, My letter bold, italic and neat: "Please hear me, Greek, leek, I sometimes write nonsense, Lest hope you would hear it." Leading my lines, Foreseeing poetically, Receiving a liar guilty. He says: "For stanzas today, teacher, I stand like bread features, My brother filet beside me." For once he doesn't lie, Looks for the sky, sees ceiling. Nothing aground marks his feeling, Seeing the concrete, He remarks of life: "To tryst so wildly, again, Would Vivaldi paint so vividly? Probably, and with champagne, because his name has dignity." So seeing his window, He thinks of rain.
Bartlett pears, dare i say, or shout, Without is life austere, my world grey. Some juicy poetry I heard today: "With my hands so sticky, A world become so tricky, So quickly the armoire useless, Of rickety fences, my house is." I spoke it, To save face, Bartlett pears are on their way.
The valley is my grave For I sit within the mouths of caves I shall not move for days Nor weeks nor years For even if I'm paid in flies My destiny, Tyler, I won't deny For one day when I die My body will atone For I could eat a stone twice my size My destiny, Tyler, I won't deny My afterlife, a Bulwark Frog Lo, to be a tadpole of one's own life For now, I just write songs Fantasies to make my family fear the valley's size Then bulwark on
Why write technical poetry? Skylight he remarks, opens, Beams of light Caepoeria, Room a knight of California, Adjoined, special upholstery, Coins, for centuries. My king coiled, Toiling thy rings, By fools finding hands, Bringing foil to my picnics. Thinking spoilt, Singing doyle, Drunk stringing his violin, To play brittle. How would I do, Aemula? Is my world to soon, exposed, Or steeped for your future? A mule for god, How would I too, butcher, Myself, user and administrator? I'm you for Claude, Europe, Sugar, or urban woodland. Frogs bulwark their homeless, I'm too for piles of durance, Furthermore for living fulcrum, Furthermore, for here it comes. Words technical, sure, but speaking of, Can I not just turn and bite my thumb?
Imagine your achievements dreamed, To swim upstream, one's valor full, Salmon like calendar, won tomorrow. River colander rusted and massive, Is this my love, and forever after, To be strained by dirty captives? I magic your feelings careening, To sink a damn, one's cup too full. Salt mounds like ashen piles, Too often borrowed by a saline cult. Maybe my faults found by asking, To speak upfront, one never knows, Maybe fault-lines, foundations cracking. To be a tan, army man, evil being, May be taught lies fundamentally ethic, Baby breaking, tied to shouting rhetoric.
Aspoet
