Thursday, December 30, 2010

Song of 81 Poems II




Milky soft, dark as sin,
    your Queen's sculpture
    almost knew Heaven.

True the subjects he stripped,
     urged an impression.
Better she looked to fly again,
     aboard malignant silence.
Investigate with patience,
     the fire-eye filled with light.

Demand a fresh dead stop,
If you are impressed, walk.
     Terror's proof of a turgid imp.
Press on, they carried Mother on canvas,
     played along by her silhouette.

The Queen sculptures are wanting fear.
I know the sister destroyed cleverness.
     Disorder spoke on painted cooking,
     Questioned the money subject. You'd howl.

Come, don't observe death.
     Alleviate sweet anger
From silhouettes in song.
     Music has joy.

Take that impulsive sleep and be faithful.
Breathe freedom, fast romance is the drug.
     Mama come here! No peeking.
     For sure she will.

As husband of an angel, 
     this homey paints to scale.

First in life, it bothers him.



Song of 81 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 
38 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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