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Wednesday, February 2, 2011

Song of 81 Poems, VI




He tested sex, demanded
     never to surf another rhythm.
Some know questions,
     such as isn't life lived in sound?
They invested in God's care.
A city, her diversity,
     whose studio was a super space.

Imagine a beautiful feeling,
     glorious music for communication.
So press your disorder.
Peace, comes to deliver somehow,
A brother choose education.
   He always could paint turgid opinion.
She did hear then, you guys never said,
    or drove past.
         Is tea art?

Discover music, pathetic parasite!
Envying the Muses I see?
     Up, down?
Absurd trash makes and leads
     her temper to observe life.
Find hard dirty nuts, and faithful fantasy.

They want a horny bed of empty mouths.
   to paint a finger-like metaphor,
     a vile fellow around pure life.
Create, write! Let that miasma come Brother,
     then think sleep in unity.
Seek your Master, he feels clever, through freedom.

Friday, howls by then.
Heal deep Death, they show I followed
   an absurd girl,
     who wants a dust mountain.

Trash bad wood, feel letters, like silent patients,
     Try to impress her!
We two are ugly beasts of an original high.
     So please, try to sing.
Avoid my inner form.

Do ever question that awesome studio.
     My sadist eats jealous music.
Imagine our absurd and visual music coupled,
     Dear he definitely suffers his Muses.
     I think I'll risk madness.

Curious, will clever problems almost have captured,
     Father hated skirts like that, with effect.
Miss, trust that we'd join you.
She meant better, needs better luck.
     So she can see love, rob all nature's thought.
     I sure marvel. Will I buckle? Almost . . .

She waits away some despair . . .
     Come in, you and I will teach her.
Jokers said, "But are you having clues?"
Dull him, of earth Dark Unity!
Laugh, Act, Share,
     Try a good society girl.

Rosy, I feel you
Mama's song could impulse soft perfect drugs.
     Silent glory comes.
Appears calm, luxurious with joy.
Babe, this greener subject composes a grand balance.
     Try and know me.

Your harmony runs drunk, storms over diversity.
A faithful husband married me, finds sleepwalking fun,
     "Man they never suffer'd passively!"
Hey Pal, Sister of Beauty,
     Her monstrous time can play clever childhood.
          I sleep, scream, subject to an edge.

A monstrous age of mildew grows.
     Let's create some thing.


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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