Wishing to find the guardrails of life, Leaning against as he sleeps too tightly, Dreams too deeply, too often: Nightly. Gut or balls, what does it take to fight? Is it twice as woke to never, and lie, Guarded and cross, who takes your rights? How about the lefts? Right.
Images of text, a thousand words, Thousands absurd then bridges bend. Curt be my pen atwixt their cloud, Fountain of their dreams allowed, Pounding coins, their dreams aloud Outbursts blurred of Hitchen's hand. Dreaming mountains with giant crowds, Client crows, their giant demands. Imagine a test, a thousand words, Testing absurdly on a given text, What word comes second, or last. A mass, a mast, a caste aghast, Rest snugly where water amassed.
I rhyme pillar to post, My village to boast, A rhyme pallet to past, Fame passes. Oh, rhyme, apportion me a portion, While spoken to me, lies in motion, White spokes to be, dirty seams, Bike rhymes, alike a bible, Binding bystanders in my dreams.
Seeking resurrection, I long to burn my hands, Incense smoke, friends. I tire of drawing nonagon, ocatgons, heptagons, hexagons. I have drawn triangles, circles, squares and beyond, I have longed for more irregular shapes. Older days, forgotten, songs, Lyrics erased, dreams decayed, Vocals crack on air, The priest is watching alone. I stare the beast in his eyes, and keep yelling despite.
Sidewalks broken on my boulevard, Auburn hair where I used to walk, Talk, and think of her dialogue. I'd thought greenery would fall, Replaced with concrete barriers, Perhaps I'd talked too freely, Told one too many tale too tall To still be taken seriously. Discreet forever, words picky, Discrete for ever, world sticky, Disformity for even worms licking. Take me away from this place, For even screaming and kicking, Seeing worse, feeling indignant. Not to curse the growing infant, But the plants must go. No handlebars rusted, To bikes comprised of broken dreams, No van full of children hopeful, Just a van to the hospital, please, My heart is about to explode to pieces.
Lately, I write universal, Rody Walker disapproves: "I see through you, Ethereal, feigning too close, To touch a virtue. Oh, feeling, careening mostly, Posts passing, tongue lashings, More dashing, floor, gas pedal, More dashing, more dashing, One says, like a clause." Platinum ring, yet, Heart diamond, set. What's happening, please, Forget my misdeeds, luck, A hat in a ring, belts, One generation fights back, Another fights against. Poetry succinct, mispelled, Written on cocktail napkins, Waitress dismayed and going, Thrown to a well indistinct, Dreams worth more than coins, More than love or poinsettias, Less two roses that grow together. At least, If I throw my feelings, Into the well they drink, One day they will think of me. Although, If I know I'm leaving, Into the well I go, no warning, or unthinking. Tomorrow, If I am untoward, Bloated upon our meeting, Give me shelter from the storm. Or at least a greeting.
In my city they wish for dreams, Fish in streams, with no disease. Innocently they live of demons, Give no lead, monster. Imposter husband, Who touches a lot, Possibly you are of honors, Kissing no others, Triage cupboards, heed. For up above there is no seer, Magical being informs our love, Only me. So where mist is aqua, My spirit is awestruck, A blessed potato, tucked. My stomach is full, I have work too abrupt, Where a kiss is awkward, Kids living squalid. So in my city, of missed ague, I will breakthrough, My break through, a great due. A comedic debut, no laughing, A great deal of scoffing at me. My blessed potato, to keep me warm, To be eaten, and too returns. As I scrape these tile floors, Let no-one know, current location: Somewhere forward, even from tomorrow.
This morning's protocols Beginning pondering What to do with people on the web. Thus with a deep resolve Maintaining promising Again untrue We will meet again This time she has evolved Now loving squandering Dreams anew Then dreaming to forget Sometimes I can recall Accepting sombering Time wasted In following a trend This time he feels involved Now loving squandering Has a few Then lives in the regret You ever feel withdrawal Oncoming vomiting Bid adieu To all of your old friends I can't say I'm appalled Forgetting honoring Lives wasted Unfollow them in death
The thing that hurts the most. You calmed my storms. You helped make sense of the chaos. You plucked me from brokenness. Helped me find strength. I don't know what it was. But just looking in your eyes. Filled my soul with peace. I miss it. I miss the quiet. The calm. I miss us. I'm starting to feel broken again. Empty inside. Trying my best. Not to let anyone see. But there are days. Where control escapes me. Do you think of me? As often as I think of you? Do you remember my name? What it once meant to you? I look back on that day. March 10th. Where I lost you. Where every image I had of you. Just shattered. You were no longer a refuge. You became a source of pain. You still are to this day. I blame myself for it. For my losing you. It's been three months. Realizing it's true. I don't cry as much. Though my heart still does ache. Try as I might; I can't bring myself to hate; You. The situation. Us. I want to throw it under the proverbial bus. I can't. Because the sky still reminds me of you. It was our destiny. Our sky. The world was going to be ours. Accept it. It's over now. These dreams just won't come true. I need to accept that what we are. Is through.
Angels sings Remember The glory The old flame The old days Time again Daydreamer New glory A new song Angels dreams Sing glory
I awake Still tired Drained by hollow ambition Of late I'm uninspired I seek transition Longing to create To be great But instead I wait for tomorrow But it never comes So I follow tradition With a bitter admiration I take comfort sharing Giving, caring For those who just take To let them feel great I carry this weight In my thoughts And my dreams Until I awake
He dreams of winter, tireless, listless, Forming fists, linger, Five fingers for taking, Making and mocking, Flying at the equinox; Checks to greet, A future cost. Apart from his words, He talks opposite, Of walks in the park, And poor pessimism. Perhaps one day, Forgotten is passion, Castles of young love, Tall as his bastion. He tells you of virtues, Rarely living attache, Stacking stones, Flashing cards flourished, Floor patterned, Checkerboard, Poorly planned, Colored randomly.
Winter dreams Santa Claus Through the night Jumping joy Happy days Love in air Forever In our hearts Throughout life Never ends Love goes on
Fanciful dreams idyllic, A World kept inside, Drinking of the streams, Field workers denied; Hands tied, perch supplied Arms raised and sullied, Ashen as the skies; Blinking in acceptance, The step child pummeled, Guised as it is wired, More ignorance desired, So says the child; Father humbled: To be eaten by lions, He mumbles and flies, The world a mystery, He inevitably hides.
Dreams of the past float away, Tired dying in contemplation, Away from the fertile mates. Tomorrow's savior never stays, Often lying of false hopes, Those who bestay his ropes. Betrayed again. No whole boat exists, The sea depleted, Forlorn and pissed, True Scotsman brave it.
All of our dreams, All of the seen, Streets of gold, Earth paved silent. Fervor of the dying, Nobody truly leaving, Merely living their lives. No victims of violence, No solace from desire. Further pushed from an entirety, Exquisiteness of machined life. Pursuant of milled tile, Years of desire, without fight, The boxer stands ready, Hands firmly at his side, Resolve still unbroken, Acceptance in his mind.
Only tragedy of the pen, Everything self penned, Self authored. Cherishing the gift of god, but with silent laughter. Floating dynasty upon the water, Field my dreams, take my island, Let me spend my days a wander, Looking for your prodigal child, With no time for spectacular novels, Cobblestone violence or love chided. Machiavellian influenced religion, Post irony, Post music, Long, long, into the future. Where no human exists, Only Nature.
Partridges fly, Above the land they admire, Moon rocks to the scientist, Fertility given to a goddess, Pointless admiration. So begins desire, The bird flies higher, Further from the ground, Wherefore no dreams to mire. Society jobs to a miser. My job is too dry, Hands cracking, without water. Voice loud enough to deny it.