I love you, There are no other words, Like gold and silver, Shine in the distance, Water finds less resistance. Eyes of blue, There are no other girls, I am in love with you, There are no other words. In awe when you visit, I'm thinking of home, children, And you every minute. There are no other words, So I admire, and listen.
He persues love, Hapiness and a son. Three to two, two to one. Free to choose, One persues their roots, Freeform blues, cute girls, Until ruin, until dust. But upon the soul a velvet rust, Temples burnt to smell of blood. Umbrella terms, settlements, Lemon curd over skeletons. Free to choose, They choose but one.
Fire, flames upon a hoop, I, am drawn. Eraser, Dissolve, dissolute. Child's play, inside a room, Drive talk, eyes and hearts, Upon her arm, should she draw? Never again can she feel loss, I, am drawn, she says, to darkness, Never again will she see stars, Never again will she be wrong, Never again can she feel love. Eraser, darker hues. Paper rips in two, Reddish shade of blue, Fire, flames upon a hoop.
I see yellow, blue in disbelief. Spiritual sterility, misdeeds, Financial instability, tricks, Affinity for weed. Advocate for your beliefs, Maybe, about that, you should sing, Not wordsmiths, suicidal tendencies, And bowing, Hands and head about the strings. Red is the color of blood, Red is the brickwork at home, Red is the byproduct of cones, Red is the color of love, Cleft lips, crushed bugs, Insides of lungs. Scry from that what you like, But Toronto has a darkness, That should be red and white.
Green, along patio frames, Garnet sees it as home, Blue sees it as being alone, Raspberries, being absorbed. Pierre to Marie, Canoes, or ferry? Whatever floats. But blue upon blue? I had higher hopes, Like you were alchemy in war.
Maroon, like red in the sea, Darkness: blue and green. Hardest to reach, Harder to please, Wanton to breathe. I feel like water through beans, Merely used, to clean. Maroon, red in the sea, Water is actually all I see. Refuse to leave, Refuse to see, Refuse to kneel. Amateur poet, do you hear me, What languages do you speak?
What do all men have in common? Red, rattling armor, Ass and breasts in their dogma, Actions in concert. I suppose it's my problem... Like cinnabar bath water, and fear of god. What do all red have in common? Whatever shade, inside they want. Blue reflects poorly upon, Such asks their goddess. Chris Adler stamps his feet, Sick, he begs for his bottles, I suppose it's Travis Barker's problem...
What is blue all the way through? Very few things, one of them you. Just like neighbourhood maples, Who grew oversea, good natured, Booked a flight, made into paper. What's new? I changed, too... All the way to the roots. Well, a limb moves, the ring too, The tip of which is turning blue, What cures the sickness of wealth? Very few things, among them death, Worse is truth and active dis proof. Spruce and denim, Jus, ad bellum, In the end, they feel something too. Just not what the majority do. Red right to wage fights like war, Just as much as the admiral's blue.
Calm wind after someone has died, The distance, is inner turmoil, One, it takes a lifetime to fight. That's why there is blue in the sky. The yellow and red still exists, Hidden by tricks in the mind. Like, Somewhere inside, I believe you are still mine, All I see is the thing you're like. It's like a room of three pipes, I can always stay high, But how, does one fight to stay? They pick low and live life. Despite the teal, I see the skies, What is real? Me, and all my desires, Despite the sequins, I see the light.
Despite the evocation, Reduction, reprisal, Draw a circle, Around my face, eyes, nose. Triangle, circles, about my square, Protection from inside my head. I've seen males drag knuckles, on their floor, faith and culture. Their minds warped, images of war, For what did they fight? Rights, to remove the guy ropes, Scrape pavement with claws at night. Tools of change, Use of space, Use of names, True and sage. Despite the evocation, Things change. Diana wrote little of cages, Ropes below.
Blue, vampire bat, I feel like that at times, Lies about my fangs, Silver metallic, Azul and cyan, Tired, of sky high tricks. I guess that's why I am, Grown men cry, surely, But then grown men die, Weapons about their side. Head held high, my friend, Surely, we will meet again, No shame in dying to a man. Right? Azul and cyan, In sake of blue, give me white. Am I doomed, to be a beast? Who bites? Well, then why alongside them, Question the carmine reds? All I want is life, beyond that, Perhaps azul and cyan.
Blue, green, In between, To me? It's everything. But they only see through me, Shield to shield, grit teeth, Never can I achieve peace. It never appealed to me, Supposedly. But, little does, Just a few blue themes. So, to routine... For you, more meaning. Cold reading: "horses, leeches". Vernacular dances, In between: Lavender, Lapis, Cerulean. Javelins, catchers, In between: Distance, anger, Foolishness. But, that's not how they saw me. Target practice, fresh meat, Free of lines like double basses, Yet to see it's own selfish strings. Yet, upon a blue sky, I fly and sing.
Blue, pale sky. What did I miss? The sale price? The halfway line? Brick by bloody brick, They desalt mines. Did you just move away, Get killed, then live again, Just to shiver in place, Wither and die? Were you better off hunting diamonds? Forgive my writing, And erotic sins, For which upon this wit I build. Always right, Above, they fly, Always white, Always wine. Blue cranes from blueprints, Selfish, and high.
Ballet shoes, champagne flutes, Game room hue suede blue, Cocktails offstage too. Maybe I'll leave the wave pool, Establish new trade routes, Maybe not, who knows? Bottles for now though. Broadway too, Wet roots, wrestling boots. Scale teeth need scraping through. But, The veiled truth is you wade, Life is a swamp, They lie, Blue in the face, Tell you it's not that way. Broadway, grey hues, Costumed plays, Or he borrows like hooped snakes. Babe, that ain't for you, It's not for anyone with a brain.
I wish I had just spawned in, Forget what I saw before death. In the end, I'm done with fights, Aquamarine, unto the skies. Blue after, and until midnight. I have between Ral, Tal, About what is right. God of the Sun, In the end. For you, insight. Racoons, fire, Costumes, liars. In the end, Just to win like them. I just want, to feel whole again, Like I had one hundred lives, Blue painted wall, sofa bed.
Have dreams, That's how you achieve them, Not bat ears and canned heat. Billy Bragg says 'freedom is' , But whiskey is softer on ears, Randy Blythe pushes people, Carried off as he prescribes. Chlorine, yonder, sapphire dyes, In your heart you can see their eyes, You never fully extinguish a life. Murderer, she says, most immodest, Mostly chlorine water in response, Yonder, the noble's calling, It turned her to stone on the inside. To me, like sapphire and diamonds. To her, being pushed from a stage, Down past concrete, into a grave. Into the maze, blue, into the grey. Now you are mine forever.
If fights ensue, It's not of me, delights, or truth, So why stand beneath? At least in my mind the blue is me. What of peacocks in the spring? What of cheese in the crumbles? What of resolve and my shivering? Certainly, I can feel these things. It's not beneath me, Like red sees croplands, Like rubber and tarmac. Like green sees the sea: blue. Ironically, foolish for free verse. Traverse the world, but ask me, Just remove lines, write peace. Irish flute, life renews, Fights needs two, Then favour winning, Like red says to greens. I wish inside, though, blue remains. Enticing eyes, confusing wings, Flying, seems a bit childish to me, As does to peacocks in the spring.
In the courtroom: Pigs, blood, tofu, Minotaurs loose, Conflicts toward, Cold, gloom. Hospital wards, Admittance form, Logical words. What becomes more true in times of war? Ghosts, opinions that form a search for truth. Indigo, blue. Stitch up your wounds, harlot. Soon, the riddles will be about you. The courtroom, The boardroom, Cicero, choose: Which is for you? Indigo or blue, One million or two. What becomes true in times of war? Certainly not you, trials or support.