I write poetry for little babies
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.
In my city they wish for dreams, Fish in streams, with no disease. Innocently they live of demons, Give no lead, monster. Imposter husband, Who touches a lot, Possibly you are of honors, Kissing no others, Triage cupboards, heed. For up above there is no seer, Magical being informs our love, Only me. So where mist is aqua, My spirit is awestruck, A blessed potato, tucked. My stomach is full, I have work too abrupt, Where a kiss is awkward, Kids living squalid. So in my city, of missed ague, I will breakthrough, My break through, a great due. A comedic debut, no laughing, A great deal of scoffing at me. My blessed potato, to keep me warm, To be eaten, and too returns. As I scrape these tile floors, Let no-one know, current location: Somewhere forward, even from tomorrow.
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.
Soon, my rooftops ventures velour, While his felt cap. So my life could be but parkour, Hostile to this running man, Denying his own strategy. Assume my caricature ugly, Underlying themes, nothingness, Prion disease and brain eating. I scream, away, shoo Like strained water, drained, Boon by foolish penmanship true. Dry humor, dishes in an apartment, States his wishes, his way were apt, One could have but half, contrite, In manacles, retarded and live happy. Perhaps education provides a tragedy, In return, for pardon of inadequacy. So, I too tiptoe guarded garrisons, My bliss beheld past, Soon their life could be of boars. Therefore course I lick, Stamps compelled to stick, What am I? A Saliva Lich? On course to death? Rich. I would embrace the quick, Lest this lifetime of fists.
Waiting, spicy feelings, Hands tingling, vitae. Dial again, A few moments away, His reckoning, My fate. Fountain, fairy meeting, Handsome thing, you love? Felt such was nonsense, Your heart a curd, confess. Your heart abscess, turd, You depart as if fuss undue, Who could stoop so low? To like remarks of word, A lonely teenager, To be touched absurdly. Headlights flashing, His fools, my athletes, Picture captured, Is this your image? Then post a back link, Or get your ass kicked.
Tribe, should I fight? Sunder wood, my life took, Can I have another? While wife cooks, Thunder looms. White, she relies on tools, Not the lies in schoolbooks, Taught too to sophist fools. Identity, laughter, a memory looks, I would be a king if I were a rook, Or switch places, if I were a crook, Knew rules well, or sting of the hook.
Climate I math notes climbing, Natural knowledge, Eye Rhyming. Pass on the peyote piping, Thy patina, your knife finding, Kite blue, alike my soul, Life in tense, dividing, in two. A walk in reverse, after marathoning, Designer clothes given patronizing, Living Patron, sizing larger. I'll talk and traverse, Pasture paragon lifestyle for, Pluto could not write himself, Aristocracies would sign lords, Soule, crabs and seacreatures, Arrange, kill. Labeling features, Toward no end, untoward wool, Frayed at the end, Dog no match for wolf. Tres bien.
Enamored, von con amore, Ore d'amore, et mortem. To lark poetic, of home, Until my heart explodes.
As poet, aspire, assume desire, I wrote for poets, declining, Prose for poetry, I grew designer. More spoke, iron, strewn aside, Cycle heroic for biking true, Though as porch, her mire I knew. To sit in snow, still forever, cold, Gladly to mix into a sill window home. Lover's letter, one pens from notes, To end on soles, or in bags of herion, And never spoken, lovely, but phoned in, In drunken speech, early in the morning. As men, we aspire, and assume desires, I wrote for Odin, always refining, Notes for nobody, I grew aside, Man of the world, I knew her ire.