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Blog Title Photo

Sunday, November 7, 2010

Smother us Black



Smother us in a black limpid experiment.
Manipulate in sleep, in time, my peace,
to do some right process.
Free too, a still life's always dormant,
finger him, it won’t take an ugly score.

I'll risk mad curious will,
When childhood pressure’s up and away.
How drunk I am, I have an insane mother!
Twinkle always, wryly I crept through a white street.

Draw, Sculpt, your husband!

Process sweet model, up, I better fly in pain.
Her death will feel sweet like a rose.
Make a new banal music for absurd sounds
Investigate an emotional aesthetic.
A boy sees an aggressive double,
eats the original spirit of love.
I want hot beer.

Attribution Lost, November 10, 2010,  45, 46, 47

The Muse Poems:

   1  2   3   4   5   6   7   8   9

10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18
19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27
28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36
37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45
46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54
55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63
64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72
73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81

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