I saw through the night, My eyes, always on you, Instead of the knife. Wings, wild across the white, Heart still filled with horror, So, on and on - and out of sight. Naivety, leads to fighting, Like pencil leads to writing. Wings, used to fly, Like fathers are to leaving, No need to try.
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.
Vast, like oceans, Endless, like addictions to opiates. Nobody cares where you're going, Past, child soldier, Nobody cares where you're going, Feather across the face, Then under the eyes. The night is dark, Sun fills the sky.
Fuck me, then hold me tight, Trust, as in the form of twine, Money, in the former tides. Naked, in my clothes of pride, Closed an eyelid, time passes, I feel I'm running out of line, How can i tell you I am dying? Nothing gives me solace, Honey, as in for the flies, Envy, in the form of desire, Already in the poem writer, Nothing leads sorrowful eyes.
Like the sun goes away, You should be by again, Instead, darkness stays, Things change forever. Color is what he liked, Now, it's black and white, Weddings, wallflower, Cocaine and dice. Like a sun, centre sky, No exit stage right, Eyes upon you, finally, No escape from caskets, Or tricks to mezmerize. I wish I could tell you why, Like the eyes upon you, I can't sell you a lie, like, Everything is wonderful. You lost your mind with narcotics, You lost your magic along with it, Like the sun goes away, You should be back again, Instead, darkness stays. Color, is what you liked, Now, it's black or white, No weddings, wallflower, Mostly cocaine and dice.
Shadow cast across their skin, Romance, Allow me a dance along thin, White lines with darker ends. Value passed through generation, Thank you, and oft veneration, And off to the races, White lines drawn to darker ends. And Why is it, he beats me still? Alas, Answers, White lies to darker ends. Romance, allow me a dance, Along lines, dark wide expanse, Around what lies in my bed, Along legs and under hands. I watch as the white lines dance, Eyes: water, shut. Demands... Then an end to nice guy acts, I'm not the one, but for now, I am.
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.
Easel, muse, what is fate? My eyes no longer meet it, My hands no longer make. Like a glove conceals a ring, Kind words, greater schemes. I must run like we were kids, I love drugs, love the feelings, I love the girl. Sober realism... Stare into the distance, Eventually you see the same, Tomorrow, is a little late
Cage is not just a game that you play with your feet. It’s the Creative Arts of the Global Elite. Champions Clash, Attacking Goals in the heat, while Contenders Advance, Grinding Every defeat. Cunning Athletes Go where the Envied compete, and Courageous Acts Give Every game beat. Clashing All-stars Gather, Eyes locked in the street, with Chains Around, Goals Everywhere they meet. Cageball’s Arena Grants Excellence sweet, as Conquerors Ascend, Glory Endless and sweet.
Red, race runner. Race winner, Hair, face makeup, Gray silver. A sliver of hope, please, The world cometh. Great singers, they say, Have a way with words, Do they listen to yours? When they read mine, I expose their inside. Cinnamon rolls, She eyes the icing, When she listens to me, Her head is cocked back, As if she died. She says, Cinnamon rolls are fine, Beige aside. Change, paper kites, Beyond lime green basement lights, Confirmation of rights. Like what a child encased in white, Could possibly look like? Red, less waste of time.
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.
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.
I'm sorry, I fell asleep, Black, eyes see, I feel... Yellow, what can ever be? Like a child, I dream... of, Yellow, saffron, cream, White outside yellow. Like an egg, given life, Tell us, what should it be? Just like rust on the beach, Yellow, contained in white? I'm sorry, I fell asleep... What of the darkness? You still sleep at night, Despite what you speak, Yellow, what is it you see? I'm sorry, I fell asleep. I cannot be there, I feel... Yolk: mustard, garlic, Like darkness inside me, White on the outside, Bizarre shades, and yellow.
Pastel crayon, divine me. Quite a lot of yellow fears... I see. I asked where are they? Inside me? Behind? Corn, cream or citrine? Honey, they see white... Gleaming, unsheathed knife, Streelights, divine me. What is fear like? White with yellow? I think I could but part ways, Let the meat meet the knife, See yellow inside their face, Toenails and eyes. Again, define me, Against this chaos I fight.
Yellow, and a bit of blue, Both, I, and you. Purple, Lilac, I just care not for it. Just like you never cared for me, Or any of the things that I thought. Fetch mother, friends, for comfort. Tell your co workers, or consort. I, no longer for dramatic concert, Agriculture of the hallway, march, July, august or months of autumn, Yellow, burst into skies of orange. See If I toss and turn about it. Like, he drives a porche, owns gold, Fire and opal in his coat pockets. Like, the eyes of horses see god, They see not much beyond carrots, Understand little of soap, clothes. Like, maybe you cared for poems, Little for poets, less even for prose.
Dieting, and sex, paying rent. Isn't life grand? Just as they said. Like a rack, stack or chip: Being colloquial, bland, rich. Is like a fantastic black ship, Which sits in the harbour, Hoping to be used, again... Oh, and add two dots to the end, Again, she just hopes for the best. White like her dress, amen. White like her skin, and intents, Alight in her eyes, that intensity, Dying, like her teeth and her hair... Oh, and white like the porcelain, She sees when she retches. White like the faces of relatives. Aegean, sing fool-speak to the masses. Queen, think, but don't deceive Ophelia, A mask would only cover your features, Despite your sweetness, we see the madness. So scratch at your hands, the lion dances.
The things he knows...
Are alike a hand that speaks in failure:
Painful flails, an esophagus.
While his mouth speaks toward disarmament,
and victims speak of the night.
So all hail the king, his rings and his might.
All the things that he owns,
Including the people as items, options
and things he derides.
So swing a knife, like a sword.
All hail the flailing arm for what it's worth,
Including the people he knows as thoughtforms and cites.
Cayenne pepper, nose.
A world alight.
A world, delight.
A wordly delight.
A world, a light,
Circles dance in the sky,
darkness seen with your eyes.
Alongside carmine, red and feathers:
prose, things they call wise