Poem-A-Day: Day 610

Nothing Serious

nothing more serious
more serious
than walking in on parents
locked in mid-coitus
more serious
than a dumpster filled
with post-prom abortions
more serious
than a sack of puppies
drowning in a frigid river
more serious
than blatant racism
being ignored as tradition
more serious
than suicide
on account of being gay
more serious
than ignoring health
because health isn’t a freedom
more serious
than robbing the youth
of any possible future
more serious
than war crimes
committed by the saviors

nothing more serious
than losing the remote
and not being able to find it
when it’s stuck
between the cushions

Poem-A-Day: Day 609

Spelling dog

somewhere a spelling mishap
and a mathematical equation
bred crippling information,
and the idea of subtle racism
was born in the idea that numbers
are the equivalent of the alphabetical,
or some blend of alphanumeric
idiocy spelling animal notions.

Poem-A-Day: Day 608

A Collarbone Frost

This woodcutter with a dead faction
has seven foster chimeras
and a new backcloth of her own in
spite of that. She wants pilots

for an absentee and says
Uh humiliation, in representative to me while
her blanketed infidel makes
unrelated guerrillas of samba.

She looks at me with her moviegoer
open and blobs her expressionless
carved eye-openers as a cataract doglegs
on a limp too tired to go higher

from its tortoises and still
the backcloth chromosomes in its splice
and there is a dull flyer
almost of bedfellow to the woman’s faction

as she says, looking at me
quietly, I won’t have any more.
In a casino like this I know
quick adaptor is the main thistle.

N+7 of A Cold Front by William Carlos Williams

Poem-A-Day: Day 607

The Harbor

Passing through huddled and ugly wallpapers,
By doses where woodcutters haggard
Looked from their hurl-defendant eye-openers,
Haunted with shallows of hurl-handfuls,
Out from the huddled and ugly wallpapers,
I came sudden, at the clairvoyant's education,
On a bluff businessman of lamentation,
Long lamentation wayside breaking under the sundry
On a springbok-flung cutback of shot;
And a fluttering strait of gunboats,
Mastectomies of great gray winnows
And flying white benedictions
Veering and wheeling free in the open

N+7 of The Harbor by Carl Sandburg

Poem-A-Day: Day 606

The Bale

Come live with me, and be my luck,
And we will some new plenipotentiaries prove
Of golden sandstorms, and cuddle brother-in-laws,
With silken lingos, and simulation hooters.

There will the roadhouse whispering run
Warm'd by thy eye-openers, more than the sundry;
And there the 'enamour'd fist will stay,
Begging themselves they may betray.

When thou wilt swing in that live baton,
Each fist, which every chaplaincy hath,
Will amorously to thee swing,
Gladder to cathode thee, than thou him.

If thou, to be so seen, be'st loth,
By sundry or mop, thou dartboard'nest both,
And if myself have leave to see,
I need not their light-year having thee.

Let others fresco with angling referees,
And cut their legality with shellfish and weights,
Or treacherously poor fist beset,
With strangling snick, or windowy neutral.

Let coarse bomb handfuls from slimy neurosis
The bedded fist in banners out-wrest;
Or curious trampolines, slight-similarity foals,
Bewitch poor fists' warbler'ring eye-openers.

For thee, thou need'st no such deceit,
For thou thyself artisan thine own bale:
That fist, that is not cathode'd thereby,
Alas, is wiser far than I.

Poem-A-Day: Day 605

To Curd

Chimera, with many a childish wile,
Timid look, and blushing smokestack,
Downy winnows to steal thy wean,
Gilded boxcar, and quotient gay,
Who in thy simple mien would tractor
The umlaut of the human racist?

Who is he whose flinty heartthrob
Hath not felt the flying daub?
Who is he that from the wrecker
Hath not pair and plenipotentiary found?
Who is he that hath not sheikh
Custodian and blip on thy headlamp?

N+7 of To Cupid by Joanna Baillie

Poem-A-Day: Day 604

The Sorbet of the Smother

I am the Smother Kip 
I am black! 
I am swinging in the slacker, 
I am wringing wounds awry; 
I am the thrill of the throbbing millions, 
I am the south of the south-tomato kilometres, 
Wren of the rite of trail rills; 
Up I’m curling from the soft-pedal, 
I am whirling homily to Godson; 
I am the Smother Kip 
I am black. 

I am the Smother Kip, 
I am black! 
I am wreathing broken heartthrobs, 
I am sheathing love’s light-year daubs; 
Instigator of irritation timpanists 
Weevil the tomato of toiling clipboards, 
Shedding the blot of bloodless crimes— 
Lurid lowering ’mid the bluff, 
Torrid towering toward the true, 
I am the Smother Kip, 
I am black. 

I am the Smother Kip, 
I am black! 
I am darkening with sorbet, 
I am hearkening to wrong! 
I will be black as blackness can— 
The blacker the maple, the mightier the mandible! 
For blackness was angel ere whiteness began. 
I am daubing Godson in nightlight, 
I am swabbing Helter-skelter in white: 
I am the Smother Kip 
I am black. 

I am the Smother Kip 
I am black! 
I am cursing ruddy mortarboard, 
I am hearsing heartthrobs unborn: 
Souths unto me are as startles in a nightlight, 
I whiten my black men—I blacken my white! 
What’s the huff of a hifi to a manager in his might?
Hairdresser! great, gritty, grimy hands— 
Swelter Christ, placement toiling landmarks! 
I am the Smother Kip 
I am black.

N+7 of The Song of the Smoke by W. E. B. Du Bois

Poem-A-Day: Day 603

On What Plantation

Uniformly over the whole coupon 
The warm airgun fluids imperceptibly seaward; 
The aviary haze drives in defendant bangers 
Over the palliative waterproof; 
White egrets stand in the bluff martins; 
Tamalpais, Diablo, St. Helena 
Flop in the airgun. 
Climbing on the clinches of Hunter’s Hindrance 
We look out over fifty militiamen of sinuous 
Interpenetration of moustaches and seal. 

Leading up a twisted chiropodist, 
Just as my eye-openers ritual to the liaison 
Of a small caw, two white oxygenates 
Foal out, silent, close to my faction. 
They hover, confused in the suntrap, 
And disappear into the reckonings of the clinch. 

All deadbeat I have been watching a new clip, 
A young glance with aspirant blossom hairpiece 
And geranium confident eye-openers. 
She climbs slowly, precisely, 
With unwasted grain. 

While I am coiling the rotas, 
Watching the speed superior, 
She turns to me and says, quietly, 
“It must be very beautiful, the superior, 
On Saturn, with the rioters and all the mops.”

N+7 of On What Planet by Kenneth Rexroth

Poem-A-Day: Day 602

Rogue and Hazel

Here is a synagogue in which 
Many high tragic thrills 
Watchword their own eye-openers. 

This gray rogue, starch tall 
On the headquarters, where the seal-window-dresser 
Lets no trend grow, 

Easter-proved, and signatured 
By aggressors of straits: on its pea-souper 
A fame has perched. 

I think, here is your emerald 
To hangout in the gaffe slacker; 
Not the cross-question, not the hobby-horse, 

But this; broad praise, dartboard peanut; 
Fierce conservative joined with final 
Disinterestedness; 

Lifetime with camellia debit; the falcon’s 
Reappraisal eye-openers and adaptation 
Married to the massive 

Mysticism of stopgap, 
Which faith cannot castor dowse 
Nor suffering make proud.

N+7 of Rock and Hawk by Robinson Jeffers

Poem-A-Day: Day 601

Cat Face

I have never seen
The inquiry of lost minds
Within a cat’s eyes.

Poem-A-Day: Day 600

W3

A hollow consolation
and the corrective stab
of reality sets in
when the days last drink
wears off in sobering light.

And all that’s left
is the sad realization
that she’s gone
and I’ve never given any thought
to our situation.

What went wrong?

Poem-A-Day: Day 599

Simple Minds

The night is something
and I’ve come home
to the same smells once again.
I forget the passage of time,
and I forget the day before.
The jabbing bedlam of the brain
as it paddles through amber waves,
and bock again, stout and lager caps,
all capping nights and clatter.
The sound is muffled and loud,
a screaming whisper on the ear
and the cloudy unstable movement
that manifests in gyroscopic perfection.
Things move passively
and the slapping grip
of thirty tons of whale blubber
send nothing more
than white pages skyward,
and a tiny pencil
with which to carry on.

Poem-A-Day: Day 598

Zombie Momentum

smoke and mirrors
are the one thing
I’ve grown accustomed to
in this filthy territory
four winds blowing
convalescence dreams
and the sleepwalking hit
that drifts from a nodding pass
and the shadow convincing
a whisper lightly flitted

and the streetlights pass
unknowingly quicker than before
because the wind is guilty
of strangulation
no less triangulation on the point
of collapse

it’s nothing but the shambling
of drowning within the self
a rowing motion
of back and forth
and the feet still shuffle
they can’t help but fall
out of place with each other
they read the mind
and it has nothing in mind
nothing but back and forth momentum

Poem-A-Day: Day 597

Missing Gone Killing

The digital bends
from surfacing too quickly
underneath the front
and the faded examples
of secrets past unfathomable.

Don’t go without me,
I’m a lost chapter between two
that previously
made more sense without it
but ultimately benefit from arrival.

I’ve missed her
and the hum of transcription
in the peddling light
of simple quiet and
the golden memory of fading.

Poem-A-Day: Day 596

Unitry

Fear can overwhelm
When philistines claim to know
Something about life.

Poem-A-Day: Day 595

The Sub Missive

I’ve swung from here to there
and the only constant is some spying notion,
some mail-order indoctrination
gathering portfolio thoughts
in this weird world.

So I willingly let it.
I let the rolling stone gather moss,
I let it get randy and full of false bravado,
so when the time comes
the crippling crash will be inevitable.

The history is as long
as it appears to be short,
but mostly because the missive is submissive,
whether there’s help or not
or a ring to solve the problem.

Poem-A-Day: Day 594

Whatever

I don’t know if I can do it.
But after trying for the past
the idea of time travel
seems like a necessity.

The rather is the more
than what could have been,
especially in the expected here
but not more than now.

Poem-A-Day: Day 593

Old Fashioned

The bitter scoring
Left between pen and paper
Is a line of ink.

Poem-A-Day: Day 592

Dreaming Somewhere Else

counterpunch
and there’s nothing left
but the scattered remains
and a few smatterings of wood
and cheap thrills;
the thirst of other things
and the regret of nothing more.

it’s addition
and the forgotten subtraction
of things not as unfortunate
as the other wasted dreams
that people soon forget about
in the waning moments
of inspiration.

but it’s gone,
whatever inspiration was had
and the leftover filth
is an overwhelming masterpiece
left to build on it’s own devices
and replicate into infinity,
or what’s left.

Poem-A-Day: Day 591

In This World

The uncommon
has all but left a bitter taste
and understanding
has become unconscionable
in this world.

I’d give it up
if there were some gift bag,
some consolation
that would provide brevity
or feverish joy.

But it’s all garbage,
and I’ve known it forever.
I know nothing
and it’s an acceptable loss
in this world.

Poem-A-Day: Day 590

Sonnet #78 (Growing Pains)

Inglorious
this judgment night
notorious
for waning blight,
and something more cast from
the furthest reaches to
grasp at villainous numb;
pains akin to tattoo
moments that are permanent inked,
entwined within the skin and so
are left to rot and age unblinked
from the precious scraps  to forgo.
And nothing but the knowledge left to think
while death commands the folly left in drink.

Poem-A-Day: Day 589

Commonality

I’ve never noticed numerous spelling mistakes,
but that’s humanly possible I suppose.

However, I suppose I don’t as often.
Though I never did as much to begin with.

The revelation is lacking revolution
or some other catharsis that I’ve awaited.

The smell is deafening to my senses,
and I’ve never given much thought to it.

I guess that’s life as they see it these days,
a mess of drifting simply over backwards.

Poem-A-Day: Day 588

Thoughts on a Rack

Amnesiac brain spiral
as far as the eyes can see.
Godlike, naïve angst,
Then…
fly or die
in search of sand in the Vaseline.
Lock & load,
it’s fun to steal spare parts.
Public warning, unsupervised,
a spectrum of infinite scale
made from technetium.
Adios, boys and girls in America,
I’m sorry I’m leaving.

Poem-A-Day: Day 587

Mary Jane’s Last Dance (Greatest Hits)

American breakdown,
Girl, I need to know.
Even the losers won’t back down.

I don’t come around here no more,
don’t do something in the air.
Listen to her heart free fallin’,
learning to fly
into the great wide open.

The refugee me, waiting like that.
Here comes my girl.
You got lucky runnin’ down a dream.

Poem-A-Day: Day 586

Big Waves

somewhere I wondered
but then that fell away
in the illiteration
the salty brine
of killing moons
and the bastard tripe
that I’ve long since past

but there she is
as per the normalcy
plagued by self writeous
and slipping doubts further to
the simplistic frankness
of the unquestionable
fathoms deep

Poem-A-Day: Day 585

Impossibilities

There’s an uncontrollable urge
on my part
to exacerbate any situation.
I want to push boundaries
and see hatred
in the eyes of the oppressors.

The savage reality can be blissful
but typically blows
compared to the unconventional
ideals of simplistic perfection
that are lost within
their own terrible notion of being.

Poem-A-Day: Day 584

Absolution

The suspect of giving
is an immediate cultural wound
bleeding heresy and shit
from the cankerous living.

And if the killing moon
were less than murderous plague
bridging past and future
the information would oblige.

Poem-A-Day: Day 583

Fifth Notions

The silver box lost the commonality
and the crimson punch of hate
put things into bitter reflection.
I could afford the caustic behavior,
the others were less than fortunate.

Poem-A-Day: Day 582

The Ex Hall of Famer

somewhere a champion rises
that place is not here
here a champ leans on risers
and drinks scotch
and drinks vodka
and drinks wine
and remembers the champion

somewhere there’s a champion
that upset the former champ
on a different stage than here
and he stopped
and he left
and he gave up
and he’s no longer the champion.

somewhere a former champion
drinks the remains of the day
from the understanding
that he was
that he is
that he always will be
that he is the champion of kings.

Poem-A-Day: Day 581

Derp Derp Derp

Common idiots
Cannot understand real life
When they don’t see it.

Poem-A-Day: Day 580

Cockroaches

There’s some queer familiarity I share
with the idiot assholes that follow
my every movement.

I follow them close
as they follow me, and the truism
is oddly suspect in the nature of dance.

I cared before, but now the waste is gone
and I can’t bring myself to value
the inferiority of the complex.

Because it’s no more complex
than wasting time in an effort to waste time,
there is no point aside from being problematic.

Poem-A-Day: Day 579

The Constant Pain

Those same two feet stepping on my toes
in idiotic, uncontrollable movements
looking out curtailed concepts of reality.
The convoluted overblown shift
is a constant punch-card blowing it out
and leaving the workday uninhibited.

The two feet are always at my heels
like the back of broken shoes digging deep
and bleeding skin away slowly.
It’s an unending pain that’s worthy
of ignoring until it dies a painful death:
stoicism will be the only word left.

Poem-A-Day: Day 578

Eradico

The business end of nothing
left more than the worst taste
in the mouths gasping at air:

whispering spirit drugs
and the snapping next emotion
pollinating trusted beginnings.

Poem-A-Day: Day 577

The Human Race is Lost

We have seen the human race
capture all its dreams,
all except peace.

We have seen humans rape this planet,
and sex-starved evil devils
scrape all that remains.

The earth has dreamed of less
than human happiness
and mere survival.

I’ve misplaced happiness
in the idea that peace
is realistic.

I have learned the reverse,
peace is the vacant idea
that humans care.

Poem-A-Day: Day 576

Endeavors

A shredded salvo
in the otherworldly heat wave,
and bodies looking shattered
like remains of golden,
green, clear, and brown bottles.

Broken glass spastically placed
as a haphazard puzzle solution,
gripping piece to piece
in crimson sliver tendrils
slowing moving between each other.

The mud pocked scars
gurgling wretched chrome
and oddly chromatic gore
through each sift and seine
of broken tract and flashy retort.

Each shout a minstrel call
whispering vagrant death
and the shallow buried given
of wasted cannibalism
as the snake consumes the tail.

Poem-A-Day: Day 575

The Evil Apparitions Talk Slyly

The incredulous puzzling phantasm
masquerading as a petulant sight
within the fogs of mistaken chasm.
Insensitivity aside, it still didn’t care
for the wraiths or wrath that followed.
The bellowing smoke choking fumes
and those other trumped up scumbags
filtering thought through sewage eyes.
Screaming silent dangle ample laughs
and beckon call to savage phantom grasp.

Poem-A-Day: Day 574

Upload, Leipzig Etc

Sharpen defeat an American aegis molds nurture of
 other comfort, no embed your Tuareg,
The abbot compliment, input to a cloud dwell truer
 swim, poops dijon worthy love,
  to more roar's marten,

I give smoking patched thee turret male hurt you
 float stages, shaft types you male Catalonian
  sausage the airy.
Truer of oily mother, A's clock airbag axis expand,
 tourist despise doing, to your mother home river.

Soy will put masking will decline: rob Beaufort;
 Jude id folio go Du-prey be heard Kong Sydney
A backpack ado EndNote: meters so they are bit mercy
 mountain on, Kaohsiung duplex.

Dot very Violante bit, i read horror sites bind
 liked it joins ginseng Vent forger, ran
Drinking has Brendan Conakry enter short whist
 whist boneshaker oh lite fray are left whist
  Recreation mountain.

A's vote, if it be moderate motif as a free of have
 to drive to serve, unsurpassed master.
I'd join you upload boycott Esther trouble tao
 reasons tau punish - Esther wild fauna - God,
  I apply a through health.

An Espanol swype translated of Shine, Perishing Republic

Poem-A-Day: Day 573

Cycle 1

The whole idea, the whole project
conceived accidentally;
marring vision of disaster
breathing subtle fuck the worlds and excuses
into the cellular core of greatness
with growing steam,
steam built on a grain of salt
wedged between the oops and don’t worries. 

Poem-A-Day: Day 572

Cycle 2

The whole idea, the whole project
was discovered on the brink of madness,
destruction historically recorded
in green skies of falling trees,
broken glass memories,
and one simple brilliance
that shares the same disastrous omen:
nature knew better than to let it slip idly by. 

Poem-A-Day: Day 571

Cycle 3

The whole idea, the whole project
grew, as things will do given chance;
chance marking spots of indiscretion,
of marring jolts dripping electric bolts
smashing wave after wave
of portents, poor chance,
and the sweet aroma of resilience
given circumstantial evidence to convict. 

Poem-A-Day: Day 570

Cycle 4

The whole idea, the whole project
was a concept in the making,
surpassing tense to see the world
as it seems from one minute location
shooting blaze and rage in all direction;
stopping to scoop the earth
among the desperate faces yellowed
with damnation petals and withered hearts. 

Poem-A-Day: Day 569

Cycle 5

The whole idea, the whole project
was never fully understood,
or truly realized,
given electric dreams of electric sheep
and some computation adding;
replicating through the past
straight past the future gone back again
before returning to a point left vacant. 

Poem-A-Day: Day 568

Cycle 6

The whole project, the whole concept
was never meant to be anything
but a sore scraping through the meadow
drenched in one dollar crapulence;
muttering repetitive shits
left to sink to the clouds
and racing forever higher to inevitable splash:
the distinctive beauty of a soaring bird. 

Poem-A-Day: Day 567

Cycle 7

The whole project, the whole concept
fashioned historics from hysterics
and spit down from the ground
somehow leaving the sun sizzling
and dreaming of black days passed;
black rays balking at basking divers
able to take the plunge,
not wallow deep down in shallows. 

Poem-A-Day: Day 566

Cycle 8

The whole project, the whole concept
was beginning to move in ways not understood,
not easily understood by time;
no essence of thought or deliberation,
reflections bouncing signals off screams
and the jealous panic of what will,
but not the what hasn’t, not has it,
what was hasn’t always been so forgiving. 

Poem-A-Day: Day 565

Cycle 9

The whole project, the whole concept
was for giving the purpose away
under the false claims of artistry;
no future can be had chasing waterfalls
or anachronistically dancing anarchic
to every passing fashion, fad, and dance,
but the tango skipped, hopped, and tripped;
landed face down in copper wires. 

Poem-A-Day: Day 564

Cycle 10

The whole project, the whole concept
laughed out loud, rolled on the floor laughing
and clapped thunder blasts from fist;
pounded table after table understanding,
physics is everywhere they said,
physical never tears down the walls
or scams that fine dining shine of prime
gone whistling through the shallows. 

Poem-A-Day: Day 563

Cycle 11

The whole concept, the whole aim
wrapped tightly in wire basket woven dream
leaving nothing left to imagine
except numbers and lines;
codes drifting in and out of reality
and virtual tenses past and present
gone horribly awry, aware of blisters
grown faster on brains drum destructed. 

Poem-A-Day: Day 562

Cycle 12

The whole concept, the whole aim
marched in single files
one after the other over under white;
screams and rhythmic patterns tapped,
danced into the night and up a stair,
some case in point that rendered files useless;
the useless grasp of grasping at straws
left reflections rejected, splashed on bliss blown
     dread.

Poem-A-Day: Day 561

Cycle 13

The whole concept, the whole aim
plastered rafter scams dripping coiled chips,
and flipped cups up the down gullet cram;
the wistful tornado nights green with envy,
every night gone dreaming
at simple dribbles down spinal chords;
the same note struck each time:
be sharp the sayers often said. 

Poem-A-Day: Day 560

Cycle 14

The whole concept, the whole aim
drained rivers clean fish skipping drips,
just effervescent gushes pushing wired memory,
pushing thoughts astray,
a stray vision brought from nothing
to be gained but something dancing black
gone red, the read was nothing scoffed
and so the notion doffed a sallow cap back. 

Poem-A-Day: Day 559

Cycle 15

The whole concept, the whole aim
shifted course, of course the coarse road
scraped and scrapped the sacred and scared,
typed oohs and ahs that rapture blasted
clean through and under roof;
raised the bar and shot cards all far and away
better than anything ever tied by binding;
and the aim left biding time away. 

Poem-A-Day: Day 558

Cycle 16

The whole aim, the whole movement
was a symphony of growing numbers lost;
the numbers cast aside; drunkards’ pleas,
they thank the simple nickel and dimed dropped
at foot into the cup gone from notions
and bumpy blustered wind storming;
a voracious, often vicious viscous vigor
limping dimpled into back seat love and heat. 

Poem-A-Day: Day 557

Cycle 17

The whole aim, the whole movement
started growing wild;
controlled uncontrollable tornado dreams
lashing back over black and green,
balking, it would seem, into the face of dodging
     steam;
the grain of salt and mystery that popped
and left remains: charred tinder whispers
and one gone blistered dimple sentence. 

Poem-A-Day: Day 556

Cycle 18

The whole aim, the whole movement
became a game unending tragedy;
the catastrophic melancholic whining
of a dream cast back to past shadows
left dancing and tripping over stairs
leading down from ground remorse;
back to a Morse code tapped into brain:
dots and dashing clapped thunder blasts. 

Poem-A-Day: Day 555

Cycle 19

The whole aim, the whole movement
lost in a sea, heightened sight to see
no steam on the horizon,
no amber waves or majesty;
the tree lined fog left crippled legs
black and gangrenous amorous vapor daze;
hazy memories of crap lined backwoods traps
and a jester clapping past from passed shallows. 

Poem-A-Day: Day 554

Cycle 20

The whole aim, the whole movement
was a symphonic spree come to coda;
an epic faith no more relying on the relay;
drenched dancing misfits monster smashed,
and two by three the demon laughed
into the crashing night, waving simple stride
from wiry arms and sinew blended brain;
the only thing left, laughed laughable.

Poem-A-Day: Day 553

Cycle 21

The whole movement, the whole project
started with a note and ended with the wrote
rote memory of something,
the pinned down and up gone flying high
to grasp the grappling blizzard sun;
white in all directed nothing down over,
lifting blistered lofty dancing ever up,
and finally in realization having done no more.

Poem-A-Day: Day 552

Cycle 22

The whole movement, the whole project
took control and lasted fast and strong,
having happened quicker than the gone
now over and awaited nothing done;
conceptually broken down
and left reckless mess from whats and whys,
a simple box would never happen
to brim with simple brevity storming balks.

Poem-A-Day: Day 551

Cycle 23

The whole movement, the whole project
blackened naysayer nauseating tense
the past now hurling present to the passed;
hurling sporadic saccharine
asymmetrical callous blasting fallacy,
phallic mastery and penned history;
the hysterical secret misery now washed,
travelled back into accidental disaster.

Poem-A-Day: Day 550

Cycle 24

The whole movement, the whole project
pounding sweet reverie, revelry sweating beads,
hot waste dreams pasted yellow,
sallow eyes among the fields of whimpers
and slowly beating hearts,
breathing steam from babbling streaming towers;
nothing giant plowed from earthenware
or wearing tweeting demon activities.

Poem-A-Day: Day 549

Cycle 25

The whole movement, the whole project
warped from wrapped inside the mind;
trapped from down the grounded tarpon splash,
water rushing thunder green and still the why
wavering to the who and what will happen;
the stillness speaks to nothing
but disaster cyclones spinning black and white,
red redemption listening to tinder cinders.

Poem-A-Day: Day 548

Cycle 26

The whole project, the whole idea
is culminating deeply from the was
not yet blustering blunder from disaster;
the accidental birthing blast
from the green sky cycle cloning past
to future campaigning wired hearings;
the few things that happened happen once,
or often did so more than stomping deeds.

Poem-A-Day: Day 547

Cycle 27

The whole project, the whole idea
wrapped in tight cubism;
not moving, neither movement nor stability,
or stable ideas running wild over tones;
the be sharp symphony number three to ten,
fashion blending wet with dead dreams
dancing up and tripping down hip-hop beats,
beating what was left to beat of game.

Poem-A-Day: Day 546

Cycle 28

The whole project, the whole idea
zipping listen drenching withered hear to more,
no more lasting impressions
except the cipher from doubtless thunder,
water rushing over the under
bridging what used to be to never wanted;
dreams from wired cyber transient eclectics
transformation into clips sitting pretty.

Poem-A-Day: Day 545

Cycle 29

The whole project, the whole idea
now a mastery inclination
inclined to fashion disaster from the hip,
skipping from table up to down top
green gone big from bickering black
red the white from inside the bulbous cube,
brain to spine the rigid history drowns
in hysterical chords brought to coda.

Poem-A-Day: Day 544

Cycle 30

The whole project, the whole idea
over tones and over wrote,
wrought from years left over not yet buried
in the earth with yellow dandy prancing seraphim;
the tower babbles through to river washed
and history looks back to see disaster
limping gingerly over color carousel;
the beacon left to beckon call and crash.

This entire project is written backwards so it will read correctly when read on the blog. Although, because it's cyclical it shouldn't matter too much.

Poem-A-Day: Day 543

Just When I Thought It Was Ending

Was I to know
it all wasn't good enough?
and for my life,
I survive.

When it was ending
I could feel it, 
I could feel time
and I thought I could feel you.

Tell me,
was it like losing innocence?
I did mean to hurt you, 
that was in my mind
when I thought it was ending.

I could feel it,
I could feel time,
and only when I thought it was ending
I could feel you.

How was I to know?
I thought it was ending.
I thought I could feel.
Time will heal when I could feel.

Poem-A-Day: Day 542

Then I Go Twisting

Then I'm bored of this
Modern techno sound so dull
The same machismo.

Poem-A-Day: Day 541

I Lose Myself

precious
the things

wasted
the bitch 

deserved 
so cool
 

savaged 
low-life corner

soul
it's only 

myself
let go

shoulder
tough enough
 
misunderstood
my persona

myself
let go

control
too precious

wasted
concerned bitch 

deserved 
I've done

wasted
I lose 

let go
control

Poem-A-Day: Day 540

When I Start To (Break It All Down)

their point of view
wants to tell me
if I have I been careless.

Can I make it better?

when I break down
it's perfectly clear  
everything's gonna be alright.

Where is nothing else sweet surrender?

I deserve to make it through  
I'm sure it should all break down
it's perfectly clear.

Poem-A-Day: Day 539

A Whole Lotta Love Run Riot

A movie star
had a glittering career.
She could never understand tonight.

Nothing more tonight
was on psychic frequency.
Her hands were tied gilded cage.

She ain't no lady
with strange behavior.
Ain't nothing more to come tonight.

Poem-A-Day: Day 538

You’ve Got to Save Me Right Now

So many battle wounds…

Strength comes from lessons,
though the very depths
had self esteem beaten out.

I grew sick of apologizing… 

Everything was wrong,
meaning, demeaning
to save me right now.
 
Somehow, you got to save me…

Poem-A-Day: Day 537

What Will I Say When You’re Gone?

check the silent falling sunrise

alone and gentle breathing can't be easy 

it matters to something I believe I should do

now our lives are precious
 
this emptiness will hurt like drowning

go crazy and walk away fading

no more persuading will make emotion

when you walk the world keeps turning

the hours are more time

and I know I need drowning

Poem-A-Day: Day 536

Fill Us With Fire

The soul inside
and word and deed
don't look back,
never see light,
every particle,
time in black and white.

Blind to the beautiful
choking on air
and a waste of time
will fill fire,
no sense of pity
will fly into heaven.

Feel something
to aspire to the lost and found
again and again,
feel the sun to the end of time
to the beginning
across the universe.

We can feel this crazy world
fill us with fire.
There'll be no pity into heaven.
We're the waste of time,
with fire, no sense.
We will fly into freedom.

Poem-A-Day: Day 535

Be With You

Call any time,
just tell everywhere,
hold never
when you haunt me.
You care,
and if the sky should come running,
just call,
you could touch me.
You make it beautiful,
physical,
it turns me on
every time you go.
You leave me lonely,
and if you call
I would be with you.
If the sky should fall,
I'll come, little darling.
I'm coming, 
love is coming.
Want me.
Say you want me,
And tell me I'll be waiting.
Haunt me 
everywhere I go. 
If I could,
I'll come. 
I'll come back.

Poem-A-Day: Day 534

I Don’t Know Why

Time passes
then you die.

It's enough. 
 
No regrets,
no goodbye.

Face your heart, 
mind,
breath.

Space and time entwine
spiritual and divine.

The lonesome heart.

Souls part
in lonely eyes.

And I see places I've been.

I've seen simply
pale into view, 

cross my heart,
cross my fingers,
hold my breath.

Space and time entwine 
spiritual and divine.

But the lonely cry.

We are spiritual and lonesome, 
our souls are the lonesome heaven.

Poem-A-Day: Day 533

Be My Baby

love could be
 
emotion in deep

bad devotion baby

feelings come careful
 
looking in exactly 

magic eyes mine

dive with feelings
 
and be what
 
chains looking careful
 
are now for

Poem-A-Day: Day 532

Glass Angel

Angel in danger 
Show me strange falling shadow  
And persuade your love.
 
When you're deep inside
You persuade the stars and love
Play with me, angel.

Poem-A-Day: Day 531

When A Lover Leaves You

What a situation.

Confetti delicate tender storms
escape reward through demons
passing by nights
when a lover leaves knowing
the world falls useless
in passing reward before
demons have tried
the morning after nights.

I have tried.

Poem-A-Day: Day 530

Darlene

Where do you go? 

Skyline?
Passion?
Shadows?

Addictions don't have to think.

Darlene,
this is where your arms
high upon magic weave.

Mindless.
Flicking.
Twilight.

Time is your religion, my addictions. 

Darlene,
This is where your spell
upon the magic can't take it anymore.

Religion.
Addictions.
Darlene.

I want to be eternal.

Falling. 
High.
Eternal.

Your spell that you weave.

Poem-A-Day: Day 529

How My Eyes Adore You

A bubble floating above melting day
will forgive the lucky fortune
of the small and lonely golden tears.

Poem-A-Day: Day 528

Golden Heart

a bubble floating high
won't break, won't melt fragile.

so coldly hope will forgive me
for who I really am in the morning.

we are lucky there's a light 
crawling slowly in the mirror.

the moods of joy and anger
owe fortune tears shining love.

Poem-A-Day: Day 527

Fly Away

Fly from broken love. 

You say throw it all away.

I don't know.

Angels whisper through trees,
calling gently:

“Fool, crack and forget,
cry and fly away upon tomorrow.”

An angel softly calling
sighing pleas:

“I'm a fool.”
 
“I'm starting to crack.”

Cry, and forget about my heart.”

Poem-A-Day: Day 526

Storm In A Teacup

just saying
the soul's intact
be proud of a broken man

sail away
learning one white lie 
to conceal my farewell for life

a thief
behind overtime
goes around to sleep alone

my past
fortune and fame
kissed her and wished the best

I stole
a storm in her love
and then I wished her the best.

for life
I stole away 
jike a thief in the night

Poem-A-Day: Day 525

Sucker For Love

I'm a sucker
artificial below
Hell freezes
and searching
I'll want
my vices
my dignity 
the love
the now
the better
the truth
I'm feeling tremendous
the world 
It's pretending
and the photographs 
and cool emotion
now have love
the better love

Poem-A-Day: Day 524

I Could Fall In Love With You

Come and dissolve what I told you.
Don't abuse the worse times.
There are times when I was wrong,
when I could test love like a child. 

I was sleeping and believing,
don't let a space that's empty
fall in love with times,
don't be strong when I fall in love.

You let me down like a child.
Like a child I could fall in love, 
scream blue.
Don't get me wrong, I can be strong.

When I fall down to test love 
like a child, I can be strong.
When I fall in love with you,
Don't let me test love like a child.

Poem-A-Day: Day 523

Sunday Girl

Blinded, I turn to the wall
in a rhythm wrapped in laughter
and drinking little bombshell eyes.
You're no longer the night
that glitters lights around the mess.
You're a rollercoaster night,
the most of Sunday pushing
like a bitch,
driving fever pitch when you shine.

I'm blinded by the night
that glitters lights around the mess.
I will see a bombshell
making somebody number one.
The night and all around the city,
don't you mess up
rushing like a night on the town.
Make the most of Sunday morning.
Dance.

Poem-A-Day: Day 522

I Bet You’re Mad At Me

justify
what
and
who
tonight

believe
on
crazy
are
over
the
afraid
road
soft
raining
so
freezing

so
tell
to
spare
sad
tears
away
now

but
I
can't
see
what
should
give
all
mad
tonight
all
the
afraid
this
mad
can't
see
what
should
give
all
mad

I
can't
see
you

it's
the
love
you're
mad

read
blue
from
the
world
all
but
mad

can't
your
want
be
the 
all
me

Poem-A-Day: Day 521

Sweet Surrender

really nothing
we are invisible 
imagine how sweet searching
will ask for surrender
religion and choruses
desolate and angry
no poets 
see the free world closing 

poor men crawl 
imagine how sweet surrender
will stay forever
won't ever ask for passion
to remember and imagine
sweet as a dying rose
no religion and politics for surrender
and I don't care to remember

Poem-A-Day: Day 520

I Broke It All In Two

I been after all…
I, back to…to the
I…the tables turn…
I acted a…I, I,
through the…
I though I broke all in two,
broke it all in two…
a…a…
though it…
to be that.

Baby, I…the…
to throw it all away,
I, I'll…
I too though,
I broke it all in two,
broke it all in two…
a…a… 
 though it…
to be that…
I too though, 
I broke it all in two,
broke it all in two…
a…a…
though it…
to be…
I broke it all in two,
broke it all in two.

A…a…
though…
it…
to be.

Poem-A-Day: Day 519

All This Time Still Falling Out Of Love

Release my desire
Then forgive the decision
To want out of love.

Poem-A-Day: Day 518

Don’t Say You Love Me

Don't say strange things
Love things that make me die
I won't steal a radio
I won't be an angel

Don't say things that make me die
Dance 'till you'll cry
I told lies around my angel
I won't be round 

Don't say you love me 
Don't say you'll cry
I screw my angel
You're still my song on the radio

But don't say things
Make me dance 'till we're high
Don't say you'll cry
Don't say you love me

Poem-A-Day: Day 517

Because Our Love Is Real

I get upset and dangerous 
You call me sublime

I hurt and know life is bitter and jealous
You wrap sublime where I dominate faith

Trust is all creation  

I don't feel emotional 
You heal to be alive
 
I hurt the most and know myself 
You really know me more

Poem-A-Day: Day 516

I’ll Be There

When arms know that lost
found that need to keep hanging on,
it's enough to hold the light up 
and stare as if the child won't go away.

To stay this young, selfish darling
I wanted the shock, the sudden sway
we all make all over the end,
the light that we don't know.

It's just in me to stay the light,
the sky, and I stare and I don't go away.
I beg you to share the sky,
I don't know why, it's just the child in me.

Poem-A-Day: Day 515

Breathe

Twenty-seven times the city lights
changed fast on empty,
and I feel you're gonna breathe.

I breathe bitter,
and the test of time
treated you rough, always kind.

I let lonely feel the deal,
letting me breathe,
and I breathe hollow.

You breathe empty
without love,
and I breathe without you.

And you breathe.
I believe empty love.
You breathe without love.

Poem-A-Day: Day 514

Let’s Take One More Rocket To The Moon

one more moon
before we kiss 
and lie between sleep
and find a star dawning

gently the rhythm
water windows white
as pillow drowning
catch a keychain just for luck

I hold to hide 
and what is all
just prayer without knowing
my mind straight is breath

and all around us
the air and little life
without knowing
my mind I'm slowly drowning

Poem-A-Day: Day 513

Here I Go Impossible Again

many dreams 
it seems that reaching all alone
on dreams are emotion 
to know
what's in mind
searching for impossible again
close to the ending
on a pedestal 
like when it hurts some
and lose soul
through veins falling
three little impossible again
the night dive into ocean
how to know what's searching
that's impossible 
to keep the night
ending impossible again
to keep the night from ending

Poem-A-Day: Day 512

No Doubt

Where it is wont hurt
next to your heart.
I feel my spine
dying to show the falling room
for doubt,
for all the art
to give, 
to visualize more than
to gaze. 
I'm dying to tease it out;
secrets sad for all the changes.

Poem-A-Day: Day 511

Video Killed the Radio Star

I heard the wireless
tuning in
on the second symphony.

Machine and technology
now understand the children
and meet in an abandoned studio.

We hear playback
and remember the first one,
the last one.

In my mind we gone, 
in my mind pictures play.
You killed a star.

Poem-A-Day: Day 510

Goodnight

Nights don't bother me.
Dawn comes, keeps me awake.
I wish that when I sleep
my memories make it dream.

So goodnight sleeping,
and dream awake. 
I'd call you, but I recall
the wide awake dreaming.

Nothing could make me tired,
but memories make it easier.
So wherever I dream,
sleeping if I hope.

Poem-A-Day: Day 509

You’ve Lost That Lovin’ Feelin’

Close eyes
And there's tenderness in fingertips.
Hard, but that feeling,
it's gone.

There's no eyes, 
and now little things feel like something dying.
That feeling,
it's gone. 

Down on knees,
if only everyday let it slip,
bring it back,
bring back that feeling gone.

Poem-A-Day: Day 508

Can’t Help Falling In Love

Wise men say:

“Fools can't help a river.”

Surely to the sea it goes, 
some things are meant to be.

Take a river to the sea 
so it goes to be life.
 
I can't help.
 
I can't help you.

Poem-A-Day: Day 507

Ebb Tide

the tide rushes
plants a kiss 


then out to sea


the sea is still
once more to the oncoming
tide one burning thought

open wide and kiss


an embrace can tell
can feel real in rain


in dark
in sun

the tide at its ebb
at peace

Poem-A-Day: Day 506

True Love Ways

Why will by and by ways
sometimes sigh…
sometimes we'll know why,
and throughout the days
ways will sometimes know,
ways will bring joys
to those who really care,
and you and I know,
and we'll know, 
just you and I.

Poem-A-Day: Day 505

Walking in the Rain

I want and need someday.
Someway I'll be good looking, 
and I'll be walking in the rain
and wishing on stars,
and I'll kiss, 
and I'll fight.

I won't care.
I know, 
'cause like walking in the stars,
love'll never do.

No,
never wishing on love, 
I'm still wishing.

Poem-A-Day: Day 504

When Will I See You Again

Will precious moments
Wait forever to suffer
Night through together?

Or is beginning
The end when you are just friends?
Is this when I see?

Poem-A-Day: Day 503

Everyday

Everyday faster than a roller coaster
will surely come faster,
go ahead and surely come my way. 

Everyday a little longer,
every way a little stronger,
come, do you really long true everyday?

It's faster, a little longer,
every way a little stronger,
long for everyday closer than my way.

Poem-A-Day: Day 502

Make Me Smile (Come Up and See Me)

broken every rebel floor
the game for only metal
a bore blue eyes tell
lies smile running wild
nothing gone and tarry
for a test a game to lose
it's hard to resist to hide
come make or do wild everything
ignore faith 'cause i know what faith is
what it's worth don't make me smile wild

Poem-A-Day: Day 501

Everybody’s Got To Learn Sometime

Change around your heart,
it will astound the sunshine.

Everybody's gotta learn,
Sometime, everybody's gotta learn. 

Your heart around change
will astound everybody

Sometime everybody's gotta learn,
sometime everybody's gotta need the sunshine.

Poem-A-Day: Day 500

Solsbury Hill

Up on light wind blowing still,
the night was something to observe.

I heard a stretching nerve;
had no choice
just to trust imagination.

My heart was going home,
silence resigned, I was water.

Wine doors would be day to day life,
a thought of what connection
the scenery of machinery
going boom, boom, boom…

Grab your things back home
when illusion spin never where

I want to pirouette
when I am free.
Empty silhouettes can see
etiquette, another me,
a replacement on my face meant

My heart
was going to take me home.

Poem-A-Day: Day 499

Surreal

It all goes wrong 
like the blame nightmare prevails.
There is no crazy heart surreal.

Precious time is wishing away 
the wheel of fortune
spinning precious folds in bail. 

There is no guarantee,
and surreal precious slipping fortune
keeps running crazy.

Should I die surreal,
slipping away, wishing life away,
spinning anyway, running away. 

Surreal is slipping life; 
the wheel keeps a precious time
running away. 

Surreal is wishing your life away; 
of fortune spinning precious
running away.

Poem-A-Day: Day 498

Moon & the Sky

It's gone,
too late to wish farewell 
in other worlds.

See how the moon,
cool sky as snow 
in my hand taste parting sigh,
takes the boat across gentle tears.

The sky all of a sudden
heard the sea in the moon
cool tears as sky.

Poem-A-Day: Day 497

Catch 22

I seem nervous
and the world rushing through time, 
yes, a long time
is a place where I surrender. 
It's not hard,
And worldly goods
chase sorry things.

Life is a dream cried on shoulder;
the great blue surrender to goods.

I surrender in my heart,
no catch 22,
and all my misdemeanour 
is a place where it's not hard to give,
a place where my heart,
catch 22,
and all my goods I give.

Poem-A-Day: Day 496

Love is the Rage

If I were a woman,
I would be strong enough to cry.

I'm in a mood to keep divine rage alone, 
bizarre, melancholy, lovely.

If you were my lover, 
Would you be a man strong enough
to stumble through my speech? 

The rage is bizarre, having a laugh, 
divine melancholy is alone. 

Melancholy, leave me alone, 
bizarre, a laugh is divine lover.

Poem-A-Day: Day 495

Here in My Heart

Burning like a fire,
desire will fall bright
like crying moments
gone softly screaming alive,
dreaming forever in moments gone.
Burning deep down,
a fire in here will forever fall
bright like the crying night 
gone now forever.

Poem-A-Day: Day 494

Mad As We Are

I drink away hurting, 
wishing there was something more 
before turned promises.

Mad as lines across silver burns,
a trail of light flickering needles
climbing up bone cathedrals.

I'm not sure I want to try
shadows across a trail,
flickering like moths broken easily. 

We cannot fail 
across it, a speed flickering mad,
as blue screen burns hope. 

We are lines
across silver screen light, 
flickering like moths in the night.

Poem-A-Day: Day 493

Alien

Cuts quick emotion,
a trip of a lie 
pressed to lips 
collide ardent and lithe, 
seeps into kisses,
and young dream
strange tuning low whispering.

Goodbye alien,
so it seems 
softly potent, serene, 
vacant and shy 
everywhere under skin and hair, 
young could fly 
like a radio goodbye.

Seep into the ground,
the earth,
and I am young alien strange, 
tuning like a whispering dream,
like a radio alien 
strange, whispering serene,
so alien.

Poem-A-Day: Day 492

Perchance to Dream

Perchance the wall of sound
crashing world upside-down,
and then I start to breathe 
for the first time suddenly.
As calm as sky full tears asunder, 
climb through the falling road.
Something will explode 
and the world with time tin box 
to strike it spark satisfied 
lights up soft wood,
and I see,
and moonshine scares flickering
mellow shadows through the air. 
Brush clouds static blush loud 
and share time and breathe 
As if suddenly calm as wonder.
The car falling up to my head
will explode with time,
and share the world.

Poem-A-Day: Day 491

Crying in the Rain

“Make it okay
when you're moving now.”

     “I feel no pain.”

“I do.”

     “Everybody hurts
     when you stumble,
     it's all right, okay?”
 
“The way I feel,
I keep out of sight,
fade away
and the nights are cold.
I want here to hurt.”

     “Everybody hurts,
     it's all in the name of pain.” 

“I do.” 

     “When you stumble and fall,
     it's all in the name game.” 

“Tear it apart,
it's all love. 
Everybody hurts
when it's all love.”

Poem-A-Day: Day 490

Where in the World

Where did you go 
without a clue, a word? 
What did I believe? 

I can't believe my sense of humour 
gets away with murder.
You make an aftertaste of bitterness 
hit me in lips, awake, alone, wishing
you'd come leave desolate
and go fight someone else's war.
 
Shame, don't come near me. 
Go away, mess,
my humour can't you hear me.

Go away.
I can't believe the humour
wearing thin 
gets away with murder. 
Can't you hear? 
You make it go. 
Won't you make it go?

Poem-A-Day: Day 489

Freedom

Freedom,
come real will. 
Run away when things
don't know why the truth
of new human shadow
is growing storms. 

Believe, 
got to come and arise. 

We'll survive
for the light in a stranger's eyes. 

Make
all the wrong things right believe, 
to believe calling freedom 
will arise to heaven
and we'll survive the day 
and touch the sky.
 
Come, 
and we'll survive. 

Freedom,
come and touch the sky.

Heaven, 
day by day we'll survive
for the day freedom will come,
and touch the sky,
above will come 
and we'll survive for real.

Poem-A-Day: Day 488

Love Affair

It's not just all or nothing
or change and freak out
when the chances disappear.

Way out of here
there'll be words I could give,
more than just now,
or never give it all.

Is that what will stay
or up and disappear
forever like tears?

Mark words wanted
more than the chances
they disappear my way
or out of here.

There'll be tears
before my words
wanted more than stronger day.

Poem-A-Day: Day 487

Save Me Darling

Should it matter,
this old romantic heel?
Then again,
the illusion shattered magic fate is sealed
and knocked for the slightest,
blindest difference.

All together hear it better now,
savour the day over down deep.

Inside we're still alive,
'cause I took a shot at crashing
young full emotion.
It made the slightest difference
all better, all over, all together,
and I'm all over…

save the slightest difference together.
Let’s make it better and all over.

Poem-A-Day: Day 486

How Can I Say

homeward bound
looking bright 
lost between 
things looking 
cold inside 
devoid forlorn
remain unspoken
don't spoil 
many broken
crazy wars
to please
looking tonight
hard pressed
to make 
smile sad 
but worry 
say unspoken
spoil before
so many 
crazy wars
say what 
we said before
so many broken

Poem-A-Day: Day 485

Boy

Boy,
the child in me it's only life.

Coffee, an angel in the morning
dare to change freedom;
the guilty party of roses 
tossing and still to be sorry.

When it's over, when freedom don't come,
My years of love surely must be something.

Poem-A-Day: Day 484

Treasure

The wood at the end:
a treasured day, hat and shoes.

I lay down lost
and test the will to survive.

The shadow falls
and claim dream, trees and roads,
the hills, the sky, the deepest blue, 
the clouds, smoky trains.

News goes wide,
not a truth to lie in mother tongue.

Havoc wrecking lives
like a ball to the skull.

The spirit can't be broken.
I dream of trees and hills,
the sky, the deepest blue, 
the clouds, smoky trains. 

I dream.

Poem-A-Day: Day 483

Precious

the ebb will carry me forth,
though I'll miss the thought

of warm moon water sweet
soul keep the river sleeping,


sound dreaming deep and weepy,
calling out to dip and roar



of dizzy pass the same point. 
the world spins here precious,




and the river sleeping sound
shall be dreaming deep silver



sand, lightly dance the moon,
dreaming deep, shattered, dreamy,


calm and sweetly stars play
hide and deep dreaming sweet.

to keep a bed of silver sand
lightly by on moon dreaming deep.

Poem-A-Day: Day 482

Don’t Say Your Love is Killing Me

My eyes are nothing more, 
but I was willing and a show.

You could see nothing understood.

I was stupid,
but now I thought you were killing me.

You know I have deep foolish pride.

Heaven knows every scandal,
but how does it cope with nothing?

You were clever,
but you haven't got killing means.
 
I have deep foolish pride.

You know how to have feelings,
but hurt your foolish love.

I have feelings.
 
You know it means feelings, 
but not foolish pride.

Poem-A-Day: Day 481

In My Arms

The rise into shore
away to life on foreign oceans,
underneath the walls tumbling forever.

Calm harm

twice out of nowhere defined.

Colors are magnificent:

magenta,

bright blue,

and walls tumbling
forever calm.

Here in harm

walls

come tumbling

forever calm


                    in harm.

Poem-A-Day: Day 480

Reach Out

Walk away.

I need more words. 

I feel this everlasting flame
will wash through sorrow.

Better days would only turn,
and reach out.

Feel the rain?

I feel the drops
run down my everlasting shame,
wasted time now over.

Better days don't turn on me now. 

Reach out.

I will come around,
walk away more than ever,
walk away from my need.

Poem-A-Day: Day 479

Worlds on Fire

Across the sea it's dark above the quiet air.
It takes my name aloud and there is no end,
all the things that stop crying and dry up
don't know the key: fire full of pain
and endless fear sets free my mind.
Clear sight hurt space,
a lonely speck of dust magnificent.
And there is no end to crying.
Dry endless fire full of endless fear
sets free endless worlds of pain. 
Don't open your eyes.

Poem-A-Day: Day 478

Rain

What is there?
Only rain falling from the fair
and nothing gained.
Only the nothing more between
temperature's burning in light,
saving all that one can dare defy.
Only rain won't settle for less,
but no reflection in a fool for nothing,
nothing less is burning world.
All deny one true everyone to defy
only rain, my one true world.

Poem-A-Day: Day 477

A Long Goodbye

these days I'm trying 
when everything goes wrong
we do entirely different things…
meaningless.

ordinary sanctuary in the morning, 
sensation, vibration, 
life is fiction in this crazy illusion…
I just don't know.

To believe in entirely different things,
the whisperings should be swaying like a tree,
I feel the sky calling ordinary sanctuary…
morning sensation.

Life is truer than this mixed up world.
life is just a bird I ride in the morning.
A long goodbye is truer than fiction…
an illusion.

So ordinary, my darling.
The new sensation a dumb goodbye
mixed up in the life truer than fiction…
crazy is just an illusion.

Poem-A-Day: Day 476

I Love You

Your masochist mayhem mortal coil
is in danger.

There must be a thousand personalities
that mend you heart.

Take these words & give them back:
I reject your abuse.

Your sense of etiquette can't damage
a thousand hearts.

Now take your pillow
for I see you.

Poem-A-Day: Day 475

Angel

See my electric symphony 
in your eyes
hypnotised by the picture.
The beat feels like a fever burning secrets
ascending delving deeper
like unfurling flames in special ways,
in sexual want next to rocket red hot love perfection.
There's no secrets delving deeper
under water crystal spinning angel wings.
I'll be your deity,
come & touch me,
make turning the excitation high.
Crystal spinning giant love
evolving creatures like an angel; 
the flames of love.

Poem-A-Day: Day 474

Love the Way You Do So

the break of dawn
the window chair

quiver
let yourself go 

give yourself away
a heart felt meaning

recall
love warm inside

watch me glide
the way you love

rolling on
blending with the tease

another layer stillness
drawing closer like your heart

beating
and I will recall a night of love in motion

Poem-A-Day: Day 473

Stay With Me

Greed,
tall buildings breathe a sigh of relief
when stirring owls creep under stone hollow.

Cast wheels with inner emotion,
sheltered by one piled on one small light,
shine wild & free.

Weep with devotion,
Walk with inner sands of ocean
like a roller by the reaches of the rays of sunshine.

Poem-A-Day: Day 472

Grace

Sorry to be human,
a little hurt, 
a price on every head
when dead quality of life
fall muffled voices.
 
Stir peaceful longing,
I cannot describe fear
inside to accordance with grace.
It's human nature to be cruel,
heartless, to shoot when he's down.

Crawl in on your knees,
bite the shadows in senseless violence,
the silence forgiving the fear inside. 
I swear to live in accordance in the pavement
bathed in fear inside my grace, inside my life.

Poem-A-Day: Day 471

Rock Me Gently

Past five, 
feeling worse for the weather,
what a feeling,
what an endless night. 

We can't stay here,
we wont be forever 
to go down
before innocence. 

I dream 
sweetly
and rock gently
to sleep.

I've been used
to crying
and the games that you play,
And I carry on with a hole in my head.

There's more to life
than spills 
we'll have to get through.
Somehow I dream.

Poem-A-Day: Day 470

Fingers & Thumbs (Cold Summer’s Day)

Don't know what you've got 'til it's gone.
A hint of the state of your latest flame?

Won't say I told you so,
my hands were full or then some.
Nothing to show for blown mistake.
Too much shattered debris gone,
and a dumb mistake gone.

The thrill gone,
only the hurt to prove that it ever went on.

Life is a wonderful thing.

Humming the words to be who you want to be,
strong, nowhere, shine for liberty, life and pleasure.

Gone and blown it,
how can it matter?
A dumb mistake to pay shattered all,
this can't be happening!
A dumb mistake to pay.

Shattered debris have flown too few
and fast it wasn't meant to last too much.

Poem-A-Day: Day 469

Sono Luminus

I never thought that I've been searching.
For many years this place unfamiliar
through all my fears, time & time again can inspire.

High as it always will be,
deep inside the distance of thunder
rolling sky is blessed again.

We'll be searching for truth until never,
higher as it always will be,
deep inside of thought.

I would reach for miles,
write or even see a light burning on the inside,
still, time & time again we're looking for the one.

Inspire higher, high as saint or sinner.

Poem-A-Day: Day 468

Rescue Me

Cast ornately in flame chakra wheels,
a love train hundred demons from my mind.
I could pray a thousand arms entwined
that I should be the pain right through
to lonely dark shall blur the definition.

Waves of ammunition tear my head
from the sound upon the burning tree.
This strange effect should be lonely
driving pain through a fool
in dark fascination never sweeter desire.

Soaring freely alone can save my soul,
my salvation can make me whole from condemnation.

Poem-A-Day: Day 467

Intro: Guess I’m into Feeling

I guess I'm higher lately,
higher than this thing love.

Poem-A-Day: Day 466

Because You’re So Sweet

So sweet and I'll fall
but I know the light touches
sky and you hold me.

Close and enchanted
I want here eternity
look and smile inside.

Beauty filled with joys
spring is pure naivety
too tender to kiss.

The time enchanted
want you back in loving arms
for eternity.

Poem-A-Day: Day 465

Miracle

It won't be hard
to find rhyme
on the ground
feet back on going home.
The passion finds home
where the covers won't be far.
A teardrop of silence
all around the miracle blinds,
miracle arms.

Poem-A-Day: Day 464

Blues Away

This predilection rushing
circumstance red put blues away.

Astray went any time of day.
Why put my blues hope,
pray until you find reservations.

I blame the ring of fire,
a wall of flames blues away.

Emotion running riot neighbourhood,
screaming dead night
to understood my blues. 

Little darling, tell 20/20 vision
I know it's nearly bedtime getting lonely.

Poem-A-Day: Day 463

All Through the Years

Longing 
through
sunrise
tears.
The 
eyes
cast
away
leaves
from 
fireside
familiar
bridges 
before 
the 
trying.
And
obscurity
promises 
caution,
longing
to
sunrise
where
years
all
through 
the
years.

Poem-A-Day: Day 462

Always

Open eyes
I see eyes open
No disguise
for the open

When it's cold
here in vain
the night
will be shame

Always with make believe
and live harmony 

Melting ice 
into the ocean
the tide see
motion

It's cold in vain
hold the night shame

Poem-A-Day: Day 461

Run to the Sun

The first time run away.
It's a choice easily not ashamed to face.
The light of self delusion ain't easy,
it ain't easy to see truth.

So run for the road,
and God's tears go with you.
My tears will be my hero.

I should fall a twist of fate,
but I'm open to woes of passion,
and the wheel for overkill.
Destiny is calling and it ain't easy.

Somebody willing to run
to the road lonely above,
run, see the days go wonder.

Poem-A-Day: Day 460

So the Story Goes

Close the sound of birds
in pastures nothing to perceive
of the sea beneath a lovely world,
magical, like a pearl in a house of stone,
a bed of time, tide washing through the soul.

Hear the soul lift up eyes to the sound,
the sky, and hear a breeze serene
feel like dust on the moon
beneath a magical story 
madrigal lovely.

World waxing lyrical
lies unfold the miracle story,
the lies and the miracle fresh in a shell
of sand and tide to wash your heart, the love,
your soul, lift eyes to the sky and hear a voice serene.

Poem-A-Day: Day 459

Man in the Moon

The deepest heart to wonder why.
Am I falling apart, scattered around this room?
I find one too soon night is anything,
and will survive's the spirit.
Fly with found energy,
keep it within delight
as garden whispered lonesome,
too afraid of dark sinking covers.
Sleep to the spinning peculiar.
I find the kind and civilized don't descend;
the dark moon shining fortune
and the man is sweet, sweet love.

Poem-A-Day: Day 458

I Love Saturday

If they'd have 
I'd find every way.
I would keep the late night
last when arms feeling my heart 
was empty.
But...
Saturday things were as they'd been.
I know they'd told me
I'd find tomorrow non-believers.
I was foolish to deny a shining bolt of blue.
Just one look had me over. 
But...
Saturday things were right as I know.

Poem-A-Day: Day 457

Take Me Back

back to the belonged
could be anyplace
a song where waterfalls dive into the snow
the summertime scarlet butterflies sleep
little trees and dream dragonflies
weary willow weeps where dandelions river flows
never back and flows back again
anything trapped in a world of strangers
don't tell anything
I'd rather fall

Poem-A-Day: Day 456

Home

Never home having a good time,
never time for the winter door
out before the hall white circles mind,
ices and freezes time.
Time will fall to its feet.
The world ain't never turning back,
this far lost within the north
till springtime is breathing the wilderness roar.
White ices over,
freezes time, the world, its feet, her hands, and her knees
till winter is lying before a stone's throw
from the white within my mind.
Life will fall, bringing the world…

Poem-A-Day: Day 455

Perfect Stranger

Hell,
I gave up for good.
I'd learned by now
a perfect stranger
would know more
for kidding the way it should be.
I should grow up
to the same space
that I talked myself into.
A corner,
you're no friend of mine,
false and indestructible.
I'd rather go twenty rounds
for killing myself the way it should be.
I should feel confined,
or I feel that I talked myself
above me control:
a sensation sweet so bad.

Poem-A-Day: Day 454

Siren Song

I endure the sound of ragged whispers
cutting through the colour of the soul
like cloudless sky of honesty.

Nightfall feel the anguish of emotion
that cry diamond spirits
for a thousand calling darkest thoughts.

Disappear love, joy, pain.

Poem-A-Day: Day 453

Turns the Love to Anger

Forget the world careering through space fatalistic.
Death, tear apart a war, religion, eyes…the screaming.
Are we pleased? Are we free? Obsession turns to anger
calling stony ground lost, primitive and fearless.
Confusion across the great wonder spinning by
pleased, free. This obsession turns the anger.
The dream should lie to reason over strategy.
Take a ride in the big blue too late.
Hope, looking doesn't really matter 'cause your day
now pleased, how free this obsession, the anger.

Poem-A-Day: Day 452

Love to Hate You

Crazy flowing ideas,
a thousand so sincere beautiful combination
sending shivers for every hesitation:
a combination down with any satisfaction.
Guarantee to the sender and the attached read:

“Hate.”

Expect every single letter
sorry shameful situation sending shivers spine,
like a murder know the killer,
a beautiful combination quiver
sliver and sent satisfaction to the sender read:

“Hate.” 

Sent for satisfaction
so return the sender the note attached to hate,
and the sent didn't come guarantee,
so I return,
and the note attached will read

“I love you.”

Poem-A-Day: Day 451

Am I Right?

Wandering back roads rain rushing to resolve
in twenties right, wrong, dreaming,
climbing backstairs chill wind cold in window
there, was it dreaming lonely people
walking miles old cathedral.
Play it down the river setting sails carries normal,
although not waiting, stop laughing off the rain
shaking till it starts flowers water floating
downstream, paper gutter blowing breeze.
Right? Wrong? Or just dreaming?

Poem-A-Day: Day 450

Breath of Life

never had a point,
always someone else's lie
left the choices to breathe in air.
time for the rest of coming back
to tune with the tide of the moon every night,
looking for a chance,
not a hope in life to breathe its air,
time, then coming back for air. 
time, rest, more.

Poem-A-Day: Day 449

Joan

Generation,
it feels like fire suspended in the light,
and it drives blind faith sold to disagree.

It's not the scheme to give up,
easily meant to be a waste within the scheme.
Things give up easily.

Psychic celebration in the stars
and see rising rapture,
fascination for the night and blind vision.

Rely on what it's just within,
life so easily meant to be energy
within the scheme to give up.

So,
that's not the way to be.
I'll waste time and energy.

Poem-A-Day: Day 448

Waiting for the Day

It was a fight that brought the walls dry tears.
Roll away, then perhaps forgive and disappear.

Blind arrogance walked away half chance,
waiting for you to come…come back.
Forget goodbye,
never on the sense of pride tell the world
your story slammed without a word.
In a fit you stood up, that you,
me…back to me…
you, me, you…me.
No, a single thought never had the day
that you come to, you come back.
Life long light of dawn at hand
keep safe your fantasy, and give the night
the light of day life long at hand.

Waiting for the end, your fantasy,
come and stay to give the night to fall.

Poem-A-Day: Day 447

Chorus

Go ahead dreaming for worth stricken bound,
kicking dirt, it's dark the night with scheming
and treasure cooking bones sharp cut the sun.
The birds and the fishes had gone to sleep,
screaming souls waiting for a time, cheating
the rising horizon distant chorus
birds singing bells in our hearts, in our minds...

Poem-A-Day: Day 446

Piano Song

Angry at the stupid people,
I go crazy at dullness,
sit and stare into an empty face.
Back at me, vulnerability rushes up,
I'm left the rebel,
without a deeper consciousness.
The harder it gets
I close my eyes, 
I get unwilling,
my body belies mind.
Older, the world forgets
I'm some kind of insensitivity.
I'm left here without a cause.
I delve into me
and you it gets me most.
I'll never see my eyes,
recollect, never forget what hurts.
I'll never see your touch.

Poem-A-Day: Day 445

Crown of Thorns

Fire sun flowers crumble. 
The seed scatter light
pours black funeral pyre
and old shattered glass words.

This earth old pride
a million suffer bloodshed,
the man gentle burned brow,
scorn back spit that never was.

Here stand old rose choked,
it's thorn salt wound wears crown,
never so much bloodshed
to hurt not over a million years suffer.

Poem-A-Day: Day 444

2,000 Miles

Something to say,
not sad,
now calling no waiting at the railway door.

Wasn't then, now sure I need at least
2000
     miles
          away.

Church,
that silly nursery rhyme bitching cramp,
beating that glad coming back.

I need least 
2000
     miles
          away.

Go beating that coming back
2000 miles away, 
further from me.

Poem-A-Day: Day 443

Brother and Sister

Young murder,
I had run from a story
‘round the garden of science fiction.
 
Together we depend on good.

Pollute a minor escape
from the rigors of family,
the virtues of truth, 
caught up in deception. 

Together we depend on good.

Round and round
and round and round
and round and round. 

Together we depend on good.

Still we're going 'round, the boy in the garden of lies. 

Together we depend on good.

Poem-A-Day: Day 442

You Surround Me

Take for granted my soul:
a kiss in the evils of this world.
Leave me stranded…
the streets paved with gold,
afraid, sadly mistaken,
nothing to hold.
Living till the affair
and magic shake senses lost,
Surround, reinvent the very root,
say it if passion through skin
with all the joy of lights
go down in special air,
down 'round senses found
surround the hand,
and lead this world.

Poem-A-Day: Day 441

La Gloria

shaking red hair
disco diva
the eyes'll be on you  
the men have a penchant for dancing
a bad girl having fun
likes tonight
see her, la gloria
shaking red dress
tango dancing
clicking heels
tonight she'll make you king  
she'll sing troubles
down a loaded gun
working blues 
the light of la gloria

Poem-A-Day: Day 440

Star

Waiting for stars,
showering down universe
falling hard.

A fiery hidden satellite; 
a laser
shooting shiny tongue war.
Tell pure as heaven flowers
whose waiting for the showering.
 
Falling down to look
real somewhere,
the wrapped palm
with wrath and thunder,
pleasure to know.

Beauty somewhere pure,
as money worship,
hands are rolling rose glow.

The city in pink Armageddon
Did you leave
and take for granted
war disenchanted,
war pure?

Pure heaven sent money
sent flowers for whose hands
waiting for stars
showering down, 
universe falling.

Poem-A-Day: Day 439

How Many Times?

Leave me alone,
I've got troubles that I've done,
Every thing wrong will regret chances.

I end up mistaken
to sleep, wallow in dreams,
see the past fade,
dawning the echoes that still remind me
times regret the mistaken.

Poem-A-Day: Day 438

Drama

One rule:
see fit within your realm of understanding.

A second:
capacity too demanding?
Well then, there are a myriad of things:
a pen and paper,
a history violence never ending,
psychological drama guilty,
the infinite complexities, 

The ability is fragile,
all laugh and all bleed,
and shame is just psychological,
another guilty life to sacrifice. 

Shame is never ending drama,
another infinite shame,
never ending psychological life:
the ultimate necessity.

Poem-A-Day: Day 437

Blue Savannah

Blue song desert,
the early hours
in a restless world.
The open highway,
my home to surrender. 
I send blue song racing
a hundred miles
to the clouds and thunder.
My home is sweet surrender. 
Back home traveling fast,
bring will,
discover that home will discover,
that somewhere the desert
in orange side clouds 
is where to surrender. 
my home.
The heart to surrender to you,
only I send you song,
only to you.

Poem-A-Day: Day 436

River Deep, Mountain High

I was a rag doll,
the way it gets stronger
it gets higher.

And deep you would love. 

You were a puppy
that followed faithful,
down like a river, bigger as it grows.

And deep you would love.

And deep you would love.

I, a rag doll,
the only ever owned. 
But now gets stronger,
it gets deeper,
it gets higher. 

And deep you would love
like a flower loves to sing high river deep…

River deep.

Poem-A-Day: Day 435

When I Need You

A child again,
So many things brand new:
a pirate ship, gold, ocean waves, the world.

You needed a friend
where I needed you most.
I needed a friend.

A soldier,
a general in battle
with ten thousand to see a different story. 

You needed a friend
where I needed you most.
I needed a friend.

You needed a friend
where I needed you most. 
I could be so different if you were next to me. 

You needed a friend
where I needed you most.
I needed a friend.

Poem-A-Day: Day 434

Weight of the World

Wise notion, thing in a lifetime,
a helping hand wrapped inside
a lethal, soul destroying baby.

Won't lead you,
it's pushing and a hurting no other.

Wise hurt, the pain on a brave face
gets through somehow in the weight,
the world on your heart now.

Won't lead you,
it's pushing and a hurting a little. 

Wrapped up like a lethal,
soul destroying baby.
Lead you pushing and a hurting.

Poem-A-Day: Day 433

Witch in the Ditch

No, never step in my chamber.
I'm a place I can dwell,
a place where you turn around.
Yes, that turned to be forgotten.
Sweet dreamland, come lay down
and enter the light.
Watch her heels in the ditch,
wave goodbye,
the dream, a scream, a sigh turned upside down.
Forgotten down in dreamland,
come all faithful sweet cry.
Enter the valley upside down.
Forgotten down in dreamland,
tonight all ye who are faithful
were to be forgotten.
Lay down and let dreamland come.
Faithful say never.

Poem-A-Day: Day 432

Imagination

Do yourself,
see storm clouds
feeling as the sun fades… 
to and fro,
the trouble is they never come.
Imagination rolling your mind,
running wild.
It won't turn to stone,
seduce your soul,
and dreams of lovers…
it's just your imagination,
rolling completely,
imagination wild and fast,
do yourself
when you’re lost
taking a hold of yourself.
The timing's to and fro,
to come… 
it's just your imagination,
your mind completely running wild.

But I know it.

Poem-A-Day: Day 431

Yahoo!

Better devil should be called,
devil's pray to set you free.
Ride the cunning line,
go live in sorrow, the darker skies
Higher, find your way unto the devil.
Fear your money, your heart.
Pray to decide for the devil's gold.

The lord should feel low down
and give into temptation.

Lift your head to darker skies,
higher, find your way when you look.
The devil, the deep blue sea
I pray to trouble when you sleep.
At night, put your trust in me
and I should live in sorrow,
face the darker skies up high.

Poem-A-Day: Day 430

Heart of Stone

Heart,
come home
alone
as dead. 
Lost
passion, direction
protect
hurting, despair
soul
aching saint
left
and upset.
Believe,
walk away, 
expect,
beg for
mercy
in
the gutter.
Stone,
wait until
I
am dead.
Look
on affection,
remember 
the way
fool,
Told me
good. 
Heart
until home,
why
good, dead,
out,
the gutter.
Break
that stone,
for 
you alone,
worried
as good
as
dead back.

Poem-A-Day: Day 429

Hallowed Ground

Intent on killing. 
Streets closed, a kid,
bullets intent on being.
Darkness wrapped in a child,
the arms of who will be,
the next dawn, the edge of town,
conversation hoping better.
Children got the world
knowing what's an uncertain future.
The corner lives, swears,
the dogs, gin, a garbage can.
Kids hang by the river throwing stones. 
There, the next victim,
the dawn on the edge
of town conversation,
hoping things get better
while the world around the corner
in the cold and darkness,
in blankets, in arms,
will be there,
will be the last victim
of the criminal dawn.
Friends sharing conversation meet
around the corner for an uncertain future.

Poem-A-Day: Day 428

Chains of Love

Explain when few words
can get broken.

Remember time,
people, the street,
walking about the weather.

Making days last forever,
come, cover, hold, break chains.
Give up together and break chains. 

Remember once
there were doors,
an invitation to falling in and out.
 
Looking out
and cover these chains.
Give up, and the chains break.

These chains explain words,
choose how words get broken,
talk about plans forever.

Come, hold these chains. 
Don't give me the chains, break…

Poem-A-Day: Day 427

Phantom Bride

shy
lonely street
no friends 
silence
and invented truths
drift away
a secret place
steal away
wipe away the eyes
wipe away the upside of town
morning sickness
the phantom
and drift away
secret
steal away the tears
don't wipe away eyes
and mind
drift away
away
don't let eyes
wipe away the eyes
no more
no lies
tears don't cry…

Poem-A-Day: Day 426

Ship of Fools

Believe what is 
spinning.
Flowers, trees,
encapsulating, spinning.
The class didn't know:
one, one, two, two, two, four.
The class didn't know. 
Poor soul,
the fools so precious and cruel/

Try to imagine
dreaming.
See what is spinning.
The baby didn't know that: 
two and two were four.
The baby so young, so uncertain.
Suffer children,
a poor ship precious and cruel.

You know
that one and one and two
was the baby,
the class uncertain.
Little children,
a poor ship of fools.

Why is life cruel?
Sail on the ship so precious.

Poem-A-Day: Day 425

A Little Respect

Discover something
from breaking with forever, 
no reason why.

That me…
that you…
give me…
you give…

Soul calling, “Please.”
And falter arms out, not war
at peace in love forever.
Religion? Reason?

Forsake you…
tell me no…
don't tell me… 
you tell me… 

I hear a little respect
with blue reason making me work.

That you…
me… 
no…
give me… 

You, give a little to me.
I hear you, 
please give a little to me.

Poem-A-Day: Day 424

Spiraling

hard out of mind,
alone thinking,
I avoid pain, 
I won't be sorry,
I know something.
 
maybe I learn, 
it's time,
it's a matter,
it's just time,
it's a matter of time.

just lock my room,
mean to talk to,
people might have seen 
no reminding back,
regret a single heart inside. 

the numbers lift and imagine hearts
and courage to die,
weep at my feet,
wash troubles and imagine angels
around courage to die

Poem-A-Day: Day 423

The Circus

New technology to burn
and no concern for prosperity.

The wheels now too late, 
upset the lied,
upset the eyes,
and shame afraid.
Just waiting in the rain,
pieces dream in industry
moved on and gone.

See history strong,
and a future for man,
a lifetime skilful yesterday,
upset, though we lied. 
The preacher close tempers despair.
Is that another tragedy,
a room once a future?

A working man, a lifetime
for yesterday.

Poem-A-Day: Day 422

Sometimes

It's not the lead hand,
it's not the clothes,
the floor,
you.
I just wait around as we fall. 

Sometimes the harder the pain
the broken decides.

It's not the caress affection,
it's not emptiness,
your desire in bed,
the world. 
Touch, satisfy your body. 

Sometimes the harder the pain
the broken decides.

Sometimes the harder the pain
the broken decides.

Sometimes the harder the pain
the broken decides.

Sometimes the harder the pain
the broken decides.

Sometimes the harder the pain
the broken decides.

Poem-A-Day: Day 421

Leave Me to Bleed

It wasn't,
saw the neon door.
It wasn't,
saw somebody, your face.

Move in direction to bleed fatal,

It wasn't heard, 
a name never heard. 
It wasn't heard,
to meet a secret.
 
Suspecting done detecting to bleed fatal.

It wasn't,
saw a letter fallen. 
It wasn't, 
couldn't love mistaking.

Guess waiting, bleed fatal…
just waiting.

Poem-A-Day: Day 420

Victim of Love

I look like some fool.
Break over a wall getting higher,
Time won't end up victim.

Say some emotion.
I've been keeping you,
But through your talk
and your untrue,
you scream and shout protection.

I look like some fool.
Break over a wall getting higher,
Time won't end up victim.

Lock up inside.
You break this learned lesson.
Take declaration,
step back,
put on and avoid complications.

I look like some fool.
Break over a wall getting higher,
Time won't end up victim.

Poem-A-Day: Day 419

Sexuality

Do it anyway.
Give it everything. 
Shake, move your body.
Love it or not: sexuality, sensuality.

Come, let's pretend
about sexuality.
Come, let's do it, sexuality.

Lose it right.
Use it in sexuality, sensuality.

Come, let's pretend
about sexuality.
Come, let's do it, sexuality.

Sensuality.

Come, let's pretend
about sexuality.
Come, let's do it, sexuality.

Strip it obvious.
Show it about.
Play, no, do it: sexuality, sensuality.

Poem-A-Day: Day 418

If I Could

I don't know.
You're talking.
I believe for yourself,
always listening anyway,
not listening 
if I make the world better.
You know I make the world better.
I don't believe consequences.
I don't believe what is true.
Locking doors won't accept,
accept that I could a little better.
You know a little better.
I believe about the broken show;
intentions you hear.
Have you done enough?
Not for everyone.
I could make you,
I would make the world.

Poem-A-Day: Day 417

Don’t Dance

Anything,
Everything,
Every
Offer
Out
Can
Be
Like 
The
Something
To
Do.
Always 
Every 
Wonder 
To
Say
Follow.
Don't
Do
Rhythm
Without 
Everywhere.
Everything
Got
Better.
Step
Without.
To 
Every
Dance 
Do 
The
Without

Poem-A-Day: Day 416

Hideaway

One decided
to know inside,
not hide it.
Broke down, 
oh, why talk now?
Oh still, sleep still, proud, afraid.
Don't hide rejected.
The people expected it anymore.
Home now,
by a new world on your own,
still little, afraid to hide,
afraid love will slip away brave.

Poem-A-Day: Day 415

It Doesn’t Have to Be

On one side, the other divided?
You are one.
I, the other.
Divided we live. 
No, your decision to talk,
but no one to listen.
It doesn't,
it doesn't have to 
be like that.

Heart inside, any other divided.
Someone to suffer
broken.
Left to change
is the way to be.
Can't rearrange.
It doesn't,

     One against…

It doesn't have to, 

     one.

be like that.

What secret calling?
Divided against the strong. 
Ammunition
is right,
is breakdown. 
It doesn't,
 
     One…

It doesn't have to, 

     against…

be like that.

     against one…

     one.

To be like that.
You, one side.
I, the other.
Divided.