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Saturday, August 10, 2013

Song of 81 Poems, XXXIII



See her.
Why he’ll even influence lions at home.
   Speak out! Laughter heals too, through ruin.

Choose your subject.
   Why must it be manipulated?
A delusional fantasy, more ways for the faithful to give sense.
What instrument of electric strength presents health?

Abscond to a bed of grain,
   Then sculpt her red, through time empowered.
Me . . . a dark deep strengthening dream.
Your fiery cunning work must hurt you less,
   They say why marrying has trouble.
If it's a missive done of black, problems,
It's time they confronted him.
   Father fooled us, as a joke.

Surreal fashion has a young impression,
right, behind a storm, in your arms,
   decay gives you psychedelic angel paint.
Infants better know a fool, fresh and glorious.
Discover my empty death,
  how she understands silence.
Heal by intimacy, come Pet, some party cares . . .
  Perhaps you heard,
  Patience, walk my favorite!

Your finger, and all these words Pal.
"Howl", we said. "You and I have the best unity."
   Know process, from important missions.
See her actor, a paragon angel.
Choose only play, fight smoke by lust.
   My Mom ate glass in balance, to deal our grand bitter life.

Okay . . .  we're up in yon, on other pages . . .
   They never told us their opinions.
Models grow up, so I'd better fly, in pain.
Abuse communicates, I'll have to choose a metaphor!
Reasons why life should appear,
   My perfect sound is still ugly.

"Disorder an enormous, mellifluous thought?"
Our presence pleased him.
   "Has he yet ebbed your observation?"
Think not of great passion, what marvelous creature comes,
   knows, influences, imagines . . .
I so did care for them.

Show any skeleton to me, I'll drink.
"Sister, investigate your wild bed."
   Dark soft cooking, I have him at night, by positive kids.
Better to live love, model, and investigate peace,
   a studio experiment. Passion brother husband!
I seem him bold, married to this thought.

   Partner think, drink nicely, this will be right.
Faithful aggressive rules never feel captured!
Curious in crazy joy, she does demand some sense of beauty.
   We love life.
Take good nerve, my homey daze.
Nude though free, control my body.

Glass, you are guile!
   I press, get reasons . . .
Oh how the Milky Mother works.


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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