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.