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Blog Title Photo

Wednesday, November 3, 2010

Joy



Joy is about canvas

Praise! Only simple morphing.
To scale
 . . . with the edge, give ideas.

My perfect sound is still ugly.
Young babe, . . .
 . . . demand when we make deep sky!

Trust that we'd join you, sad Queen.
 . . . good society owes serious art.

October 11, 2006, with Jennifer Chicheportiche, 50, 51, 52




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

I never chose . . .



Our salvation can't feel grand love.

Away with some babe! Conserve he must.
Mama's perfume confronts money,
    opinion cramping work.

Those around who thread jungle art.
She means better, needs better luck.

Joyous, we wasted the night,
Curious, in the end we'd reach you.
    So do try and improve.

How will she give her presents?
Shared by her own thinking.

"I'm pressing on your pride.
"Get you sir, with that raging!"
 Do reapers send silent music?

Let passion become art!
    'Ninety learned demands . . ."
Look baby! A walkman!
A dark 'n dirty lash, throws a laughing solution,
It's enough. power appears, in jokes, . . .
. . . mad chocolate for some some vintage beer.

Stop to see discoveries, daze love,
Some girl licks, strokes her under, . . .
and respects painted art.

Imagine he cooked a real canvas!
Troubles can write themselves.
Drugs create, whether less blind,
a rainbow-black system which lets a red body, perform balance.

Abel, give to freedom.
Observe, and crowd a wry Earth.

"A Greek Queen, then, I knew,"
. . . a fake instrument, said:
    "Go be afraid, love angel!

"See, a disorder comes, with an enormous, mellifluous thought.
 Obsessive, and obsessed sculptures."

Laurie experiments in bright energy . . .
Clever strength about the yard,
Soon drunk and controlled from above.

Have a beautiful foetus!
Trust everyone, distance good, shred,
    from her fiery, weary, week.

I'm cooking more original important forms,
See some from distance, she almost dances!
Music frightens, she fights better!
    His finest upon a double girl,

Too wild.


December 7, 2006, with Sasha Magdelevich, 51, 52, 53



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

Make some other commune . . .



Make some other commune in your studio
Follow behind hence, chanting face to body.
Naughty drunk! Soft, sad, how hard you know!
How Monstrous!
Carp us down. . .
Women done . . . dead.

Marvelous ages of mildew grows
Move! I never need some sweet reason. . .
 . . . but make true measure.
Wretch! Whose free toss will blood some dust?
Delight them. Run married rascal!
Your stance sure could seek,
In some sharp dirty old woman,
Speak out to form a young society
Daddy! Such memories confront Mama.

Stranger please blast breath, greasily drawn
Thou would live electric . . .
I'll better pair hype - I won't ever play or strum to relate.
A bird sees no phobia -
Hey!  A saucy psychedelic crowd!

Mind is almost like some edge always
Let yourself try to make some nerve with will.

You'll sleep less, see bold pictures in the air!
Some memory thing will over reverse our number.
So clot feel mouth, butt, stale . .
But when despair gets you down, . . . Duh! . . way down!
Then chisel your grip!
And so start as a sculpture, and believe!
Use her sibling . . . .  always dazzle!
I press, get reason
Date is risk, sweep away your wants,
Understand your sense. . .  esteem them!

Most overbearing whip!
The ancient question they leave chooses to call like a finger aesthetic.
I thought,  . . . . "Fool!"  . . .
So class! . . .  If they attach, . . .  they can hate her
Commit in awe . . . some windward fool cuckold . . . .
About and through,  . . .  she gives life to the dish.


October 10, 2007, with Natasha Romanova, 73, 74, 74-275


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

Him



High above it flows in life. . .
knows patience . . .
sees heaven as silent. . . and so free.
An ancient babbling sound tries a life experiment
. . . . that as emotion, forms delusions of art.

November 13, 2007, with Grace Fantechi, 53, 54-1, 54-255


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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