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Saturday, March 15, 2014

Song of 81 Poems - XXXV

Dark, I felt it, an ape’s character.
Yet our party died.
Gnosis was upon her,
Tethered behind every mountain.

Pass it all on,
Okay, we cared, as you and I together lived.
Did we make figure art better?
A borderline community of ideas,
See why I followed progress.
Dazzle, discover, give, you never understood beauty.

The Muse, sees all.
I tried, they wasted me, sculpted hot and dirty.
my queen’s sculpture envies, eyeing music.

Bad aesthetic competitions have such freedom.
Some original experiment there . . .
Try hard, a nude-minded metaphor.
Insanity can buy you trust.
I sum, very curious.
a vile fellow around pure life.

Canvases could live create and write,
It balances bold and soft.
Caught a child, straight, feeling nerved.
Have freedom, imagine a woman’s curiosity.
A hard, soft sculpture. which glitters,
Girl, buy the full opportunity .
Calm the crazy leader.
Tell us, is your delight like some discovery?
Heal deep death, they showed fast,
Write, draw. Use this to progress.
My greatest curse would be to hedge my bets,
In beggars!” Confront passion under denial, follow every laugh.
Solutions write on empty shards.

Daughter progresses, mind will crush live!
Come you need caution,
Will her father love jealous joy?
Our pet spider doesn’t offend dormant wasted metal.
If my mind writes this crass choice,
Learn fellow, isn’t your Mom around?
Quiet! I’d rather be recording in Russian.
Rozhdestvensky, Shalamov,
A man says his picture rocks.
Water unity, like a rose makes a new banal music,
Only a surreal film.

Drunk killers still have wants . . .
Furlow every laugh thrown on positive water
Smoke no grass. Stop to see guilt, only whose is it?
When will we make deep sky!
See, Laurie has an experiment.
Bright energy . . . is an awful hidden,
and daunting, reserve.
Know patience . . . see heaven as silent.

Our many companions . . . see you on Crete.
Understand, scratch our empty noses nude.
We can buy the tinker a hollow piece.

She waits away some despair.
Scream Partner later you just might score,
Be obsessed, make metal quick.
Understand, scratch our empty noses.
Draw about romances only you will model.
You are part childhood, so sleep I fuel.
Your Mama’s song could impulse soft perfect drugs.
She sings with spirit, captures unity.
Sponge-faced Madman, compose questions!
Smear more! A verbose model has class,
Sober Miss. My goodness, you take him to bed..
Beauty forms a thought silhouette.
When liars are at process, capture me Babe, we take praise,
Killer of life, Brothers we compose harmony by deep dance.
It’s why she comes.

We need this, to feel free!
So patiently respect nude play.
I’m pressing, ‘Chant!’ she would say.
Feel that. On her languished sleep,
scream subject to an edge.
I understand your sense,
Esteem them!
Find dance.

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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