Trees of lime, Dreams of life, Hearts pleading: Fields of rice, Ears of a beast, Bright green, to the eyes. What is fleeting? What is right? What the audience likes, What God would decide, Like what is meat, What is me, But I need to survive.
Should one be horrified of nothing? Hook, shore, line, cheeks blushing, Sorry I lack a lively career, Goodbye, deary; My life is lovely. They say no rush, Speak nothing of time and boxes; Wishing they were ski jumping, Even if it begets evil things. One hundred years fishing. Whether or not I am punished, God, brother, life, iron will, I watched the flowers flourish. Like drumsticks desire a skin, Find, then are tossed aside: Tomorrow is unprovided, Yet I will.
Last living lemming, No house to live in, No Chandeliers; Next exhibit, Next exhibition, Spoke of past tense in English, Fluent in other languages; An Eccentric Mystic, Poetic Lyrics, and their beginnings; One carves caverns, Of all manner of rock, What matters of master? The afterthought.
By the tendril, sunset felt, Like weapons in my belt, Chemistry I can't question, Clarity in my bedtimes. So lovingly I make expressions, Like, at weddings, Desperate for marriage; By the ending, a farewell.
Canon roar, castles go, Grab ahold, gravel road, A rabbit grows, As does his habits, A hobbit grows, Shrinking his jacket. Life a la mode, What matters most, When paddling boats? Loneliness, A partner to boast, Havoc that leaves you alone.
For Mayor, for payment, For wages, forced labour, For most run four bases, For patience, no basis. Road changes like young brains, Record-breakers, the role favours; Horses race toward old age, and the coast as it fades; Full weight behind the sail, Like regulation of the state, Your neighbour, Your patron, Afford bravery for faith, While some live, agate, Judge races from inside of a cage.
A little boating, hidden motives, Net cast far and wide, rod and line, Bits of fishing where the hook is life, We are the bait and our path decided. A single holding, hot and high, One's Lifetime amidst the roses, A river flowing, ascots and wine, Single toll trip last night, no guilt. No guild and no scrill. No landmarks or sites. Gifts of civil clothing, Met with concerning eyes, In the yards at night, Burning, the whole thing. The inner coding of my heart of little noting, A bit of doting, conflicts of the coal bin, Am I composing, or composting with silicosis, Wasting away my time with simple nothings, Served of cold beer unnoticed with business going.
Books opens, pictures, Bulldozer, fixtures, Foot soldier of bitterness, Do good moments wither? Pull over, hood open, Notice you could use a push, Look to the wool-grower, Whose home you turned to dust, Hopeless with his heritage lost. Is a cactus cost-effective? Is an organ, mostly defective, Less than nothing? Ask a cleric, politician or elective, At best, they repeat what they must.
Devils hand, write of ginger, Stink of gin and linger. Age over, question a gain, Family name a gander. A snake is hissing, of the land, No matter how one pounds a fist, Shaking the sand, he stands in place. Devil, how are you so ginger, Limbless with skin akimbo, No kin to speak for, Yet no wizard can seal your fate?
Storm the earth, Storm the sea, Arrive in myth, the people be, Not given bronze, not given sons, Living gaunt outside a lodge. Singing swans, singing songs, Zinc, gold, silver, iron, copper, In hefty sums, no bitten tongue. Dearth they arrive, murder at night, No allies, wyrms or fires to fight. Death they provide.
No brittle bones, paid for sickness, For where it goes is nonsense. Undying, nobody throws spear immortal, Even if the wind vied in cordial, Simple wounds seal of licks and moans. My immortal man made of sticks and stones, Drowns in cordial, healed by cordial, Acting cordial among the crude oil.
The toad speaks, the mind sees, The mouse squeaks of menses; Too high to sleep, ego flying, Does one write lines on sheets? Scribble perfection, or deny? Fights cannot be won, only survived. Poet, please give me writing, Forced to be, I need power to fight.
Those who kill another standing, Are said to be of stone and iron. Bean counters politic to the throne, Are somehow revered and desired. Despite their lack of remorse, And passionless fire. Their life a metaphor of climbing, Smelly, poor, and small minded.
Finding selected, Keystroke wreckless. Days clicking google adsense, Hoping for a future pleasant. Those married to future present, Set precedence, or providence. Either way, their feeling felt. Ourselves providing the set lists, Swimming only to divide the kelp. Tragedy or more could define the self, Prophets could by chance desire wealth, Perhaps afterlife is rather expensive. Better than desiring severed heads, Documenting your proletariat ventures, Penniless yet the castle stands. Random chance gives in to my demands.