What is blue all the way through? Very few things, one of them you. Just like neighbourhood maples, Who grew oversea, good natured, Booked a flight, made into paper. What's new? I changed, too... All the way to the roots. Well, a limb moves, the ring too, The tip of which is turning blue, What cures the sickness of wealth? Very few things, among them death, Worse is truth and active dis proof. Spruce and denim, Jus, ad bellum, In the end, they feel something too. Just not what the majority do. Red right to wage fights like war, Just as much as the admiral's blue.
Desert sun, august morning, Sky, a butterscotch orange. Amongst all things, concerns: For paintings are ownership... Hopefully drawings disappear, Wrap your body in animal skin. Put a brush to your wrist, Go ahead, spill, Color all over... Hopefully canvas appears. Yellow, what say of the sea? Hardcore, double crossing, frog, Croaking of dark forces and fear. An unarmed soldier, war over, Still fighting with the hayseeds. Oh, Is this why blue pervades me? All things amongst me here, Sidewalks get ownership, You pay, then worship on them. All language, being borrowed, Gives power to some lawyer. Oh, Is this why blue pervades me? Yellow, what have you made me?
All the things he wants, the things he loves, Of all things, he flaunts, to fools in the bar. He feels his playthings belong at home in a box. Amongst drawn straws, he stands like the water, And so does his daughter, and her daughter, They will never know a child without a scar, Who will never see an adult full of laughter. The sweet smell, is all the gardenia in the yard, Despie his greed, they keep growing tall. Despite what he sees, and is appalled by, Between the mirror and the wall, Is Athena and Cordelia, and appearances. She is nonheterogeneous, considerate, So, like lavender she stays with the wall. But really, these are just things he thinks, Knowing little, choosing again, rolls dice, He lost. And she takes every piece of his flesh from the bone with a knife, like god.
though it has been so long, i have not forgotten you. i have searched for you among the crowded shelves of bookshops, the cobbled displays of libraries, the take-one-leave-one boxes scattered through town. i have dug deep in my jacket pockets for the notes and coins needed to take you home with me. i have cradled you close to me underneath my coat while i am waiting for the 6:58 bus. i have found you in tulip bulbs peeking above the soul for the sun, late august thunderstorms that pelted our new apartment, the january wind that brings ice and chapped hands. you have made sure your spine stands straighter when i roam through each aisle, saturated and dewey with books. you have pushed the dimes and nickels into my grasping fingers so that we may spend our time together that much quicker. you have squeezed me hard as we step off the bus at 7:34. you have flung yourself through the sky and earth to find me in the smallest of stolen moments. you kiss my hands and my head and flush them rosy with emotion. you have not forgotten me either, it seems.
'I just wish, with all the time I have left', As she squeezes her fists, laments, Her eyes see ideas she never said, Sadness bookends her existence. She knows what she is, and lies, She thinks she knows what's best, But she is losing her desire for life. I just wish, like all the cows she loves, She would fight and fawn over me for once. The person she sees staring into the sky, It seems she likes, but she rarely sees herself. Mostly other men, me, and occasionally, marquee lights. She thinks it's for the best, I'm sure. The person she reveals herself to be, As the ocean fares, she holds against, My love can only take so many hits, She says, as she sets the table, For two people, but never herself. She says in the end, it's for the best. What happened to the things she liked? She thinks to herself in a flight, Reminded of a dream, desires, Meets someone else and tries. Time is a god of fire, however, So it takes and destroys her, Inside first, then outside. What she does with her life, It's none of my concern, Fans in the crowd fight amongst themselves, Not with players they revere and beheld. I think I know what's best, but in the end, I knew very little of what I said, Even less of the outcomes she had. So, who am I, to wish?
A treasure full of dreams A future wrapped in gold What our indecisions bring Within each box that life will hold Hidden in the square Amongst the corrugated seams Is more than just thin air And the light from distant beams There are memories we have known Within the box that cannot part Like the flowers that have grown Just to touch a gentle heart Upon these feathers within a box I shall sleep on them tonight And to the ticking of the clock I shall dance the angel’s flight Says the label dressed in red, “Never touch what’s in the box” So many thoughts run through my head Of all the moments we have lost Michael 8/5/2021
Oh, to forget, Castle, all, buttered pears. But what of man? Was he even there? Even one percent, I wish I could share. All art forms a certain length, All on loan, and suddenly end, A dozen eggs, A dozen days, No son, No in love again, Arms too short to hug oneself. I feel as if I double dealt, You tell me what face I have, Where I belong, That you've already won; Wet seasons among, many drugs, I regret: I've already punched. Call me a spade, But I do what I want, And I won.
The creaking of the pines elicits icy shivers, like steel fingers raked upon a naked spine, pine needles quivering like jagged splinters jabbed into desperate thirsty veins Slivers of pain, slices of sorrow, glimpsed through the gaping cracks between the bark, as stark winds whisper then wail weaving twisted tales of ennui and despair Oh, the horrors they have seen while the sun giggles and gleams from her corner of the forest peering from her perch amid the heavens, her cackles seep into the earth to settle among the dirt and the decay As the emerald canopy leads the lost souls astray through the labyrinth of decomposing leaves, corpses cast off from the trees, disrobing before the fastidious eyes of their maker, undertakers laying out their palls for the weak and broken to bear
LIVING WITH UNCERTAINTY What if we thought of this uncertainty as Jews consider our Sabbath— As a sacred space in time? Stop traveling. Stop buying and selling. Stop working. Give up trying to make the world better than it is. Instead, sing. Dance. Pray. Write songs and recite poetry. Paint the pictures from your eyes. Walk amongst the leaves and the stars. Touch only those to whom you have committed your life. Sit down. And when your mind and body have become still, Reach out with your heart. Know that we are connected in ways that are both terrifying and beautiful. No one can deny that now. Do not reach out with your hands. Reach out with your heart. Reach out with your words. Reach out with all the curled tendrils Of compassion that connect us invisibly, To where we cannot touch each other.
No secrets You keep me speechless, I can not lie I hate that I love you, If you knew the damage Would you love me correctly, The hell you put me through I no longer want to be on the ride, You knew I from the start That I fall hard and fast, I try to feel ok While you play with my emotions, There's no need to explain If you think what your doing is ok, I can try to get up and feel ok again But I'm just domino in your game, Does this make you feel better Being on top in this one sided love, I wake up in terror To ask myself what am I doing here, Why do I let myself endure The torture of your love, I can not lie I love you, No more holding inside This dirty little secret I keep, I'm tired of the mistreatment I'm tired of the avoidance, You say I hurt you From a drunken fight, Its time to bring to light Your drunken words, When we met you knew I was unwell, One night amongst your drunken lips You spoke to me a terrible fate, It haunts me in my thoughts The DJ to my demons party, You spoke love sober Yet you spoke death drunk, Your tinder lips slipped I wish you would've died, You hated me for what I did You hated the fact I was broken, I set it aside for the sheer fact That I love you truly, However you still to this day Blame my mental instability, I try so hard every day I fight for my next breath.
Drinking Bowls and pitchers, like smoking coals and timber; If only bones could lift, Our home, save the children, Even buried having all gold and silver, Can an afterlife supply of groves and vineyards? Old and crippled, mouth of the old man dribbles, His eyes meet to eventually form a river; How can he romance with trombones and singers, When he sees and himself, groans and withers, Lays down again amongst the toads and lizards; Eyes hollow and wrinkled, bathrobe, slippers, Windows, the stones that hit them, now coal, Used to build all the roads and bridges.
Table from farm, Noodles and parm, Among eggs, bacon, It's carbonara!
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.
She writes fallacies of nobody, Highlights for her hair color, Callously she laughs with glee, Ire beauty and young bravery. Screaming in doorways sobriety, I like to think she knows me not. Picking flowers from her yard, Policy alike her start, mother, Discovering what to be, rather, Honesty like her heart, lover, It beats nobody clever. Until. Forgive my desires: two stepping. Your teacup leaking, I laugh still. Sieve steeping, a living actress, And to live needing? is this banter? Definition in short order, leaving. For give my empires to Stephen, An idea more Corey than Cancer. A ballet dancer, but a thick boy, Holes among left awood with joy, Man ideal for lawyers and cantors, For one who teaches is forgotten, Cotton tarnished in an oily oil. Royalty royal and parched to often, His voice softens, off his head, For I too seek enjoyment, spread.
Perhaps one day I will garner respect, Socializing among my colleagues apt, Buried in a monocle and top hat, My money just as monopoly, amateurs.
Going on Early morning dawn Morning glow People go Searching among southern bay Love and happiness
No honor or Bravery, Mulled over too long, Followers betray, Feelings astray amongst. Lay waste upon their pores; Their universe stainless, Faces like rust; No steel to steel, No virtue of thievery, To steal regardless; Complacence unjust;
winter home pure white among us time of life