Friday, February 24, 2012

Song of 81 Poems, XII




I saw you in full color,
     playing, in reckless affairs,
     emotionally sexed.
Your were hiding her childhood,
     using lust to hold fast
      to surreal harmony,

That affected our faith, yet appeared free.
Precious progress, moments manipulated,
     afraid of seeing down,
     aware, of no "I".

Be in awe, we withstand the break.
What howl serves a young face,
     His bad aesthetic competitions.
     might further fool us as a joke?

Don't fire. Why not?
     A new young street balances life.
Many traders at an entry blue get it, 
      present  metaphoric diversity,
Kiss water, and give that sharp shin
       a fear of cooking.

Be tearful, and be all
Come fill my wild dates.
     praise only symbol,
     and Mother Dust.


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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