Whisper breezy promises across my neck
I'll fall down like a delapidated wreck
No time left ticking with my hands,
Where comes my weakness nothing stands,
No Life's now a juggle of nothing and time
It's a jungle of rhyme--
And I give in knowing not how to handle it.
Remind me how I used to just groove and sandle it.
I'll go where no one ever goes
I'll traipse through the weeds as they graze my toes
Know that everyone thinks, and thinks everyone knows.
But no longer caring I'll turn up my nose.
I'll give in to the spiritual throes,
I'll set aside the habitual woes,
I'll file jagged teeth and smoothly gum-
this leathery undertaking, so easy to some.
Sunday, October 24, 2010
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Reach for the clouds. . .
Tickle your toes. . .
-
there ain't no other place like you to roam. where I dug in my heels and said "No, I won't come home!" Dancing in the warb...
-
Under a blanket it was at high altitudes in love or nauseous? I once held his hand his touch was so soothing-but with a lion's face. and...
-
lean in a little. say it like it's a secret. make your breath sound like italics. click your tongue against the roof your mouth then you...
-
July 12th My love's hands and eyes so full of surprise! he sees nothing wrong with giving me a synthetic strawberry.
-
driving home from the farmer's market- I can't see anything- through this storm- I come home to sleep- with you-rest in your arms fu...
-
I thought it would be fitting to do an original of mine, but one of it's earlier drafts. I have recently reworked this poem so it includ...
-
July 9th i feel like running again. it's either that or swimming in a valley of tears. July 10th you couldn't tell by looking at us,...
-
The Anchor for Joel When love embarks, with its generating propellers slicing through the interminable oceans of imperfection that are, for ...
-
Reminder "You do not seem to understand," they'd say "That rivers are wide, and are not so easily crossed, we fear, they ...
-
The Opera The eyes of the firing-squad are aimed with lashed cross-hairs for now we, the chorus, all look like oiled up black ducks in a ro...
No comments:
Post a Comment