Day 1: No stoic women and no false metal, Living the life, Inside of a kettle. Hopping and jumping, Trying to escape. Grinding my teeth, While the symphony plays. "Does it feel great?" "Yeah, it really feels great." "Now what should I do?" "I'll cry the next day." Weeping, Watching the moon start to settle. Disappear too soon below false nettle. "With such regret I will miss when I die, So I dream to escape the world I deny." Day 2: I sleep; The moon and my mind both settle. I no longer jump; Steam fills my kettle. These stoic women; Fawns for false metal. Living my own life; Fit in fine fettle.
He puts on his cap, Regardless of a bat or bases, His face is just like his dads, So they clap. Beyond a pale horse is forever-after. Regardless of initial fervor lacking. Many men look upon a hill backing, Ocean drying the Earth's pasture. So they have.
I want to release. A rhyme about nobody, With no honest remarks, With no peace, For the days passed, I have lived, Learned regret. I am the reason for myself. Nobody makes my bed, If I don't make it for myself, The Sophist; The Thoughtless Beast.
A tale of two lovers, Who just couldn't chat, Agree on a child; So they cut two in half. Half of a heart and a torturous act. Kicked kids who were down, In the back of their knees, While they lay on the ground, Begging, "Help, please", Raising their funds as they cough and they wheeze. A tale of two brothers, A matter of fact, Who know what they want, So they plot and attract. Mending their hearts from the acts of their dad. Kicked kings who were thrown, On their backs with an ease, To be cursed to the town, No longer pleased. Wandering streets eating scraps of raw meat. Until the two brothers, One gaunt and one fat, Built a global chalet. The plan isn't bad; Physically wait for aversion to pass.
The drunk denies, Trunk lies emptied; Whole lives gone ashtray, Until God led astray; Upon a broken branch, Dangling over Hades. Calm as the sea, She walks the tightrope. God decides not popes, Nor who is to be.
Twilight of the twelve queers; So twisted and obscured. We act as though we understand them; Though with fear. Twelve steers led by a steer. In twelve straight abstractions. A beast walks without ears. Travelling wayward through swelled sounds, Unable to hear. Walking billions upon billions of miles to see; Infinitude of the spheres.
No bulwark for a king's depression, But bulwarks for a king, Homework is a learned obsession, But bulls work for a king. Dogmatic in a weird direction; Every single thing is, Worthless upon first conception, But the first born of the king isn't.
I have grown with the band, When I couldn't sleep, When I lack intrinsic wake. When I watch them take the world; I feel I do the same. Symphony for a pilgrim's soul, Divine beyond these finite words, I dream to see them live. That bond will never break. Forget not, Those tunes will never leave my brain, Akashic records play forever; Even in my grave, I'll always love those men; So much it's prolly gay.
Arrogance not of the phallus, but of action, and inaction. Tinnitus not of the hole in the head, Ringing caused by self-trepanation. Few trepidation to remove my brain, Truth was reviewed to be, But against what could be, That said with mind ironically elating, I do enjoy a memory when masturbating.
I gave you that; Which wasn't half bad. I gave you love; If you consider my dad. Never gave my mom, Anything we had; So if I give you love, Be warned I'll take it back. If you find my love one day, Just don't take it half bad. Maybe it'll last for a day and a half. I sip hate with a handle; Pouring love with carafes.
A standard Cheshire cat, Attacked for the manhood; Leaves, my grass drowning, Dry philosophies, dowsing; The Station Nightclub fire, They leave my ass browning, With steeds stood laughing; Horse jokes abound: Human life masticating, Human jokes around, Running is for the horses, Desires aggravated.
A charge upon thee, Assault upon my person, Trigger of my dignity, Myth'll make it worsen, Find two and two as three, Head hung beneath a merkel, Abhoring Greek, Abhoring Roman, Abhor mythology. Abhor to write or speak. When weakness strong, And braveness weak. And as we sleep, No longer fly, No longer laugh, No longer climbing trees, Our dreams are gone, As a treat, We put pure reason in our mouths, Infected with disease. Veins infected too, Running to my finger tips, Swelling to the moon, Back into my wrist, Swaying to the tune, In need of amethyst. To cure me of my drunken state, Kiss me with your teeth, Make me feel your pain, Then kiss me with your drunken lips. Burn the greatest books, Whisper greatest stories, Slowly back away from bliss, Lying down, Accept defeat, Merrily, Ideas are but temperless.
Voice To explore the belly of the beast, Is to die for what you believe in. Countervoice: Explore the mouth of a dog, Finding nothing, move on. I implore a decision by partisan. Voice: As if I were to run ashore autistic, Circumventing a sky of no direction, Upon sunken ship of squalid condition. I prepare for no blockade partition, No handkerchief can adopt misdirection, So no thief can hold a cloth of gold. Countervoice: Mention again of the god-dog. Who sits at the feet of us all. Sub servant religious dogma, Poverty being stomping ground, If man is to answer a challenge, Who is to call him down?
I lie eagerly awaiting for your return exhilarated by the thought of your lips once again touching my famished soul anew, then by the light of the moon you hesitantly came, first, a gentle, subtle caress gingerly knocking on my sands then a gradual deluge, enveloping consuming, the whole stretch of my being and as I lie prostrate , ecstatic with our intimacy, you have once again retreated silently to the mighty vastness of your benefactor.., But you shall never be mine, for the ocean is a jealous lover. and I am eternally condemned to be your willing mistress caught in this perpetual longing waiting anticipating desiring For the next cycle....
Whenever i open My wallet And have a glance Of your angelic brow I gaze and gaze And keep gazing, Floods rise In my eyes My heart overflows Emotions and pain, Deep inside, cold wind Of need and desire blows, And the flashes Of all past memories Conquere My mind, And my emotions flow thru my pen So, I'm caging The days Of your gracefullness And my heart In the immortal words of my poem And after centuries While they Read me They will see You Beatiful And young , For my heart And my Words Would never Let you Grow grey Bhat Naieem All Rights Reserved
Voice 3: Forgive and forget, Tear and set, Vie and vet, Live and let. Yet, This I forgive? I will not set my own bones, I wish to ride stone to Set. Ptolemaic as it may be, I pray for death. Voice 2: I pray for rain, Simple as it may seem, It delays the contrary, It is all it should be. Love as loved same, Wish not for pain, Wish for the gods to delay it. Fish not for enemy graves, Fish for a handshake sentient. Voice 3: The bastard dies regardless. King, czar of inaction ardent.
Belief being atheistic, Aesthetics being belief; Life of an ironic, The bloody icon; Procession of mighty parapets. Discussion of architect high, Feminism of the mind, body high.
Belief being atheistic, Aesthetics being belief; Invention of already dead, Death of the intervention. Intention lost, deemed release; Life of ironically bloody guise, Procession of the mighty parapets. Discussion of the high architect, Feminism of the mind, body high.