Tuesday, January 31, 2012

Song of 81 Poems, IX




Revert to faith and see why 
    our bold kids grave-danced.
        Your finest was a great psychic.

Sculpt and scale the choice,
    More moisture here, Queen Daughter.
        Must I weld through glass?

Experiment through life.
    My electric daughter despairs,
        Speaks out as we faithfully experiment,
            
Perfection after passion in sleep,
    composes form.
Darkly, no sad men come yet.
    The damage leads right behind a storm.

You did dance Sir,
    Really his garb must stink.
Throw, they share on the couch,
    observe and intervene.

Go, destroy our pride in discovery,
    psychedelics are found in art.

Progress handles freedom.
     So why does he mean serious heart?


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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