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Tuesday, February 1, 2011

Song of 81 Poems, IV




In truth he meant a man, who with sound,
      shared a beautiful self.
"You'll see, saucy women will phone."

She hardens, rides a simple toy.
   A happy sense stops me.
      Should love say, "Sleep through sound?"
This will reach you in metaphoric shimmers.
   "Perform a clean thought.
      Deep grace must see a dull rhythm."

Tell your bird,"Run free! Drug my brain!"
   "Write a symbol,
      Try harmonic programming."

No greening holds my deep inky delight,
   a Chameleon who guts earth.
      "He's an animal husband."
Scream beauty. "Who has to own obsequious strength?"
  Die, notice who has nerve.
      I see, need, can please. Whomever chooses, doesn't impress.

Open wide, paint her electric harmony here.
  She said, "Curiosity's like a hard, soft sculpture."
Fiery mother of Heaven, use sanguine perfume,
   come and pet some party cares.
      "Walk, they've lost patience."
       Come obsessive Partner, young babe,
   "Why am I fashion?
      Throw positive water! He never ate delight."

Empower fashion, neither use young sleep,
   or observe virginal sound.
      Think, walk, Create grandeur,

Emotional highs as big as a milky soft space.
   I hear them, and us and thee.
      "But can category have play?"
      Free too, a still life's always dormant,
   Come you and I can't throw on positive water.
      My God, we never numbed her language!

Stop see guilt, only who was it?
   Young babe, to those around us,
     Be her man. I suffer.
"Good boy!
   Thou didst forget my only past!"
      I am feeling better.

What marvelous creature sees you on Crete, as a sculpture instrument.
   Our stand-in event, is passive, that much I'll admit.
      Try to understand. Please see I'm love.

I lost a bag, all we question.
   Night bird how do we improve almost as only can a King,
      Taking up rainbows, by positive kids.

Come Death, with pain like an Angel!
   How big will patience be in my clever life?
      "Man I pull at sculpted harmony."
     Delve in a surreal subject.
   Hmm, no pain.
      Serious systems worry Mom.

Never feel captured! Love, hate, passion,
   "Grander king! Men discover about ritual.
      Think here. Go there."
     See that beautiful cat almost howl!
   In my rough bitter fast.
      "Glass husband, you are guile!"

How monstrous are women . . .
   They have shame!


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 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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