Sometimes, I feel alone, Like water over stones, Though as the river runs, Eventually, I'll find more. Like the ocean borders, Welcome with open doors, Like you and I, of course, No need for Trojan horses. Then, no need for anything more.
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.
Beyond silver screens, Silver lining, infinite. One hand, ten digits, More erotic fiction, Tonic, friction. Long, like tonic water, Blessed with ginger. In aliquot.
Softly shifting silver sands, Solid to liquid, Liquid to gas. I just felt, if you never left, None of that comes to pass. Cocky glibness, middle class, Christmas to windows, Windows to glass. I just sat aside, never asking, What do you say to the fairer sex? You're everything I've ever dreamt? Well, I find there's just none left, Nothing but adventures, And acceptance tests. Coffee drinking, ginger snaps, Trauma to forgiveness, Forgiveness until collapse. You're everything I ever dreamt, I'd do anything to bring you back, Like an eye that stares ahead, Tears roll down my face again. I'll never be the things I lack, I'll never change, skin like that, Only grows with age. Salt to water, Water evaporates.
Vodka, Tonic, Fond of garlic, Unaccomplished. Are you talking? I'm fond of off switch and no, I wasn't watching. I was fawned, checking boxes. I was more interested in women, dawg. Not modern artists, or marvel comics, I was more interested in guitar, Not ingesting substance or getting off. Are you listening? I am fond of cognac, Long, in tonic water. and no, she didn't want me, But I never wanted her either. Like the stomach, or the liver, Long to vomit... I have concern with what's inside, Not consequences.
In my arms, your arms, You talk, then I talk, But that life is long gone. For a list of things you are: Love of fine art, Love of my arms, Love for my mom, Love, from wild mobs, Hate for me deep in your heart. Does that, to you, seem honest? Pleas, bargains, Over t-shirts, waterbottles, Street artist and colleagues, In trap houses on Mary. Does that, to you, seem honest? They sleep under pizza boxes, Can never play in concert. For a list of things you are: Nothing like you were, Nothing in your arms, Nothing for the club, Nothing from your heart.
Dry fog, fight songs, In my arms, your arms, You talk, then I talk, But that life is long gone, A dry cough on a live vlog. What was it I lost? The right to be what I was? The fight to be what I'm not? From my thoughts: Fuck off. For a list of things you are: Love of fine art, Love of my arms, Love for my mom, Love, from wild mobs, Hate for me deep in your heart. Does that, to you, seem honest? Pleas, bargains, Over t-shirts, waterbottles, Street artist and colleagues, Live in trap houses on Mary St. Does that, to you, seem honest? They sleep under pizza boxes, Drunks, who can never play in concert, What was it I lost again? The right to be what I was? To fight to live and die on a cross, Live life on a cot? Instead, I'll climb the hill to the top.
Seeing his window, He thinks of rain, Is this for always? Water, over my face... He thinks of charades, Seeing his heroes, He thinks about change, Hands cover his face, Is this for always?
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.
To the final, pathetic, vocal squeal: Drum trials, pathos in guitar steel, Reference, for the crowd to cheer. What is gone, but was never there? What is a woman? Complacent? Like God, you take a bucket, Drown her in rainwater, It remains clear. Her body is still good for fucking. His money is still good for fucking, Her body is still good for fucking, Nothing. Ink then vinyl, out into the real, Drum trial, pathos to the feeling, Defence for the crowd that cheers. What is gone, but was never there? Magic, you chose a career, Not a life path. Defend that! Missives you can't recite back, Missiles, like knives to the back, Missing like writing upon a staff. Music was a mistake in the end, Mythic, like an axe upon a head, Without your controller in hand, What is gone, but was never there?
Words of caution, Gourds in autumn, Fears be gone in her, A plate summed full. Squash in the soil, Seeds in the garden, Water on her arms, Written over blood. Gambling problem, Lust, as if scarlet, Just as I write it: Clubs, spades, diamonds. A heart divines it, A world divides it, Time becomes distance, A bicycle by the bridge.
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?
Chestnut, voices, Gone are the old days, Better choices, Monochrome planes. Upon canvas the mind paints, Scarlet the shade, Far from water and rain. Gone are the old days, Fire took the farm. Childhood sweethearts, I could be wrong, But fire looks good, to us all, When it's on a smaller scale, But on canvas or stage, Fire, has no proper place. Soon you'll see, things gone away, I could be wrong, fire looks good, When upon a crown and on a face. Maybe one day you'll see these things, Not the sullen, lonely greys.
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...
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.
Blue is to conquer, Blue is too cartoon, Complex creature, Friend stealer. Objects over people. Blue, bottled vodka. Blue, she says is awkward. She says, blue, pass the aux, Never even noticed I was gone. Never saw the blue within her. Blue boxes, blue water. Blue, recycled concepts. Blue is to conquer, Like blue is to want, Dream and wander.
All the things he wants, the things he loves, Of all things, he flaunts, to fools in the bar. He feels his playthings belong at home in a box. Amongst drawn straws, he stands like the water, And so does his daughter, and her daughter, They will never know a child without a scar, Who will never see an adult full of laughter. The sweet smell, is all the gardenia in the yard, Despie his greed, they keep growing tall. Despite what he sees, and is appalled by, Between the mirror and the wall, Is Athena and Cordelia, and appearances. She is nonheterogeneous, considerate, So, like lavender she stays with the wall. But really, these are just things he thinks, Knowing little, choosing again, rolls dice, He lost. And she takes every piece of his flesh from the bone with a knife, like god.
Towards evening, the island's in silhouette, Dark trees line the beach and the cliffs at water level. Ripples of light ripples shimmer on the sea. Distant whales make a low moan or grunt. Anchor chain groans and creaks from the boat. They sit in silence, then share a long kiss. Beside them the ship rocks gently on the waves. The captain draws a sigh as he drinks his ale. Then down into the darkness, the depths, To where the sharks prowl, where the dolphins swim, Where the whales sing their songs. And the hunters will go to find them. *** Whale hunt, that's what it was about, The whale, the whale. The hunt, the hunt. What did you want? Just something to do. This poem is an Articial Intelligence re-interpretation of "A Handfull of Pennies" by Gordon Haggerty