Blog Title Photo

Blog Title Photo

Thursday, November 26, 2015

Song of 81 Poems - XXXVI



On one, said we to elves, "what heals time?"
Swine! Improve your black-headed silhouette,
   about the need of which sweet dish
   you are dazzled.

Understand she hardens,
   about cunning trouble.
Let's walk, it's better.
She knows our morning glory
   was a feeling.

A society that forms observations
  will model.
We can lick a grand River!
I'm proof, see my sanity,
Tell your bird why men
   gripped my other canvas.
It almost always
   makes my smoke investigate . . .
Humidity.

I like representing your calm body as a sculpture
   though, your surface was almost concrete.
So share a new young street.
Run be angry beneath more empty music.

Are we agreeing that we should know?
a cruising metaphoric opinion
   licked clean of her bearing?

Throw her torpid form through
Clean sex and fast romance
   feels clever.
God rest in peace,
   would it be tearful if I made a man
   take my milky soft and faithful passion.

Unless astonished by my work and power
   your wasted selves appear many though positive.
I've chosen a straight water ritual.

I can't stick around. She erred,
    picked an aggressive act too enormous to enjoy.
Asking if Guilt is abuse.
   she sells, in all ways fed up.
She sincerely said something,
   Thanksgiving affects head competition.
For absurd as it sounds,
   see in front, the edge of observation.
Enervate delight.
My sculpture won't mind glitter,
   If so, I'd grip it.

Trust that we'd join in clever strength
   about the yard.
Man you can hide perfume, the glory owes you money.
An ancient babbling sound
Vapors . . . a palpable past . . . infinite idols . . .
   reach for aesthetic cleanliness.

In all ways she spun a faithful breath instrument.

My happy angel's broken past was the life she formed.
I never said you are dead,
   droll-natured neighbor.
Leave blunt creativity there.
If surreal courage glitters incarnate,
   sucker, celebrate your dirty vulture breath or puke.
A lying solution's better than money.
Try a good society girl, all drunk.

Don't jealous boy, destroy absurdity.
   I'm Death.
Imagine sodden, trotting cuddles.
I manipulate, empower, then delight.

Sculpt Angel under observation,
   play then work.
Share dance - I am a symbol of space,
   make some other calm, united.
   Use emotion on lost energy.

‘Till, I question, I try.
   So we played mellifluously.
My daughter thought, "Write, dazzle, cook . ."

Most will suffer peace at dusk.



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

Search This Blog