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Saturday, October 27, 2012

Song of 81 Poems, XVIII




Tell Joy she looms around Angels.
 . . . No grand diagnoses, . . . disco reveries.
Merciful blue scripture, read as a song of anguish.

Icy laughs if you can see.
 . . . I would have thought to envy the gate,
 . . . delved above him, scratched, or chiseled on canvas.
Dazzle, pressured on, we live dirty.
Why men must confront our Saturday affair,
 . . . a key opportunity beside my moon.

My fear, if it is a miss, observes,
Walk Mama, silhouette freedom!
Now share, a negative angry angel!
 . . . (Need our sculpture worry?
They said rivalry wasted dreams.)
 . . . Here, when filmed wild, it's sad,
Daddy needs good smoke.

I endeavor to choose an old soft ritual.
 . . . On Crete, a Mother of film walks,
 . . . they have lost patience.
Come obsessive Partner, it shows your set.
" . . . I'm another - what completes?
"I have form, obdurate metaphor!"

Please believe we can't go there,
Above our faith in brains, raw partner,
 . . . Care strokes best.
Make a thin grass opinion,
Mounted metaphor.
 . . . Come Sir, try some moon child.

"Chisel freedom, she's all fed up."
Go easy, shouldn't some negative understanding
 . . . eat the original spirit of love.

A happy nihilist Mama sees,
 . . . who could have resented my sculpture
 . . . good I mind the reasons, why life should appear.
See, old society means a dark 'n dirty lash.
Breathe, disgrace our presence
 . . . when a wild slave instrument demands more,
Esteemed fellow come hither.

He affects, and breaks a line of weed.
 . . . Can I call nature sweet?
Happy Angel breaks in one pass.
The life which she formed,
 . . . So did he care for them?
We are all language.

Such a wild chant is Music,
 . . . "Imagine a beautiful husband."
Observe, we spoke of her money jungle.
So delight in anger,
    Take an offering,
    Go by us, it is kids!
They have shame!
Rude girl-faced serpent,
I've shared that masterpiece,
     This Sister was Gal envy.

Beauty, form and thought, have silhouette.
Have that sleep intimacy.
     His every joy will glitter,
     See, I'm a symbol of space.
I'd better laugh, if observation is opinion
Cry fantasy education! 'Chant!' she would say.

As a flight movie break character,
Soon your temper must ebb,
 . . . Thou would live electric . . .

Peace at dusk Brother!


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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