Song of 81 Poems - LXI

What marvelous creature composes,

     or imagines heart sounds in romance.

Play your companion's heart in time.

Fear fashions sees or knows,

     that memory gives, 

     never shimmers, or rages.

Draw your companion's will,
    believe me Brother, I was caught. 

Man, I parlay all's in pain.
Improve the black-headed silhouette.
As sculpture drives a chisel, so I sculpt,
     Are you feeling better?

She ranked her hot uses.
    I heard them being eerie.
The doctor has a studio where

   a blind man fingered in the dark

   an ugly score.

Dust processes languish, 

    since the glorious angel sang,
    "Bad song over, I'm all gone."
We never numbed her language!
The reason is why life appears, 

    young babe,

    demands we make deep sky.

Respect painted art.
Hindustan, my arty tea, menstruates, 

Lies and wishes for more glitter,

   more balance frees,

   to make the brain fight.

In all ways she spun a live faithful son.

Song of 81 Poems:

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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
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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

Song of 81 Poems - LX

Floors higher than money.

   Kate, on your next day home,

   cut the old gal’s manic sculptures.

Empty the sounds you spoke.

Why? I am so fashionable?

    Starting pleases the young, paint dirty.

    Avoid negative, high art.

A pouch for sleep avoids my inner form.

Give it away for best effects. 

   Did we care, trust?

She'll have flown.

My movie's not seeing her lost will.
    Free death music presents your wife.

Do give our cast, retribution.

Respect the fast, I mean it.

   All the Muses know KR.

So let her use and handle the brush.

I have an insane mother!

   Crass anger, this obsequious kid won't sculpt me.

Who faced her character? 

Miss, I'm about this studio.

Serious art is a rainbow of black,

   a system that lets the red body 

   perform balance.

Perfect sounds are still ugly.

Song of 81 Poems:

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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

Song of 81 Poems - LIX

Through pithy streets,
    I age as you dance with us all.
Does it seem a man will say,

   a picture walks on water.

You'll need when childhood pressures 

    are up and away
Just order and tell us, try group pressure.
    Many will draw a dead thread.

I'm about his studio,
    Sad Mother, joyously we wasted our night.
Hindustan, I ought to be . . .

    You menstruate lie and wish.

She's all he lectures about. 

    I see emotional electricity.
Mechanical appearances, known in all ways,

She spins a beautiful, faithful, breath instrument.

As an old ex-Peer, I have assets.
So I thank you Father.
Don't give in Brother, 

Anger won't stay.
The drunks think he follows vintage laughter.
    Don't jealous boy,

    Absurd sex guards us.

If you destroy women despair to your observations.

Diversify, grant her fashions

    to make a bold opinion.

Stranger, you are the smoke!

Mom, how will the girl kiss?
Take praise, she teases, fasts, starts to hurt,
    Only after sin, some touching.

Society presses for the full opportunity,
Communication key to give more warmth.
    The daughter thought, 'Move!'
    But I never needed her sweet reason.

She only made me kiss.

Song of 81 Poems:

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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

Song of 81 Poems - LVII

Better shape it and observe virtual sound.

    Come, you and I'll see Asia.

Talking with a snake's respect,
In time, greenery ends pain.
     I'm aging as you dance with us,

And did  I learn with your subject?
    How drunk I am, from sculpture.
Address the fashion world, 

    in love with a curious, turgid, festoon.

Freedom was about water, surf, about clean space.
Gripped, society owes me.
     Drugs create, whether we are less blind,
     Confront fear, observe, I sculpted her.

May I call nature sweet? 

I see on Crete, a sculpture instrument.
    He one day, was not imagining, 

“We all have been beasts."

    In bestial emotion: "We are all language!"

Whisper into my fire - why do I see you?
Laughter acts to share! 

Anger won't stay.
    She understands free heart,
Crazy with patience.

     Fly with a glass, stranger!

That's how the milky Mother works. 

She chants from water.
    Won't sour, until we have ancient thoughts.
Plays there, until solutions stroke and break pride,
    Damages mount upon an empty psychedelic symbol.

You’d better drive passion, face language.
Which angel had Mother use?
    Writing breaks as we work so hard.

"Must ye think of some drunk mouth?'
    I wrote, caught by an angel,
    Some repressed angers loomed.

Demand rest.
"I’ll worry when you run out."
    You'll sleep less, see bold pictures in the air.
    A rainbow for you upon glass.

Song of 81 Poems:

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10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18
19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27
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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

Song of 81 Poems - LVI

A mail-in ballot.

Passion manipulates sleep and time.

Peace worries, investigations reversed.

     only emotions, ideas to handle character.
Times improve through blue.

Some say, "Miss, I'm about the studio."
Praise simple morphine to scale.
Mad chocolate for vintage beer.
    Man can you hide perfume!

Glory owes you money.
"Good boy, confront thy wench!"
A sure marvel, emotional electricity . . . or his play.

Go experiment like a bird!
Hold to their silent energy, see a thin child.
    We asked, "To see me grow out of mind."
I never said you are dead,
Let's bury this over animal music.
     What I mean is, you investigate with sound.

Impulsive trouble, romances risking progress.
On blue bold harmony, under milky soft sounds
      try a good society girl, all drunk.
Rosy, I feel your absurd sex 

      communicates a story.
She makes you kiss that freedom.

Nude boy, buy the tinker a hollow piece.

A cunning neurotic televises ersatz joy.

     to all this bareness, icons are less obtuse.

The made-up masterpiece comes to life,

    capture tests disorder.

Smoke calls, that sacred cat almost howls.
Monster-time pays cleverly, to investigate the head.

A saucy psychedelic crowd . . .
    Dressed every idea, with sugar.

Song of 81 Poems:

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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

Song of 81 Poems - LV

This mare would avoid pain, 

    Have her character switched.

"Oh my! I see all, yes, 

    The famous line, "emotion colors a killer".

Brother, of opaque delight.
May you please comfort us,
   with your edge, give us ideas.
Stop to discover, daze love,
Be her man, I suffer,
    Rob nature's thought.

Our many companions, seen on Crete 

    appear calm, luxurious.

Joy, what marvelous creatures

   compose important memories?

Why are you working so hard my Muse?
Our stand-in event, is passive, try to understand.
    Please come, under love.
Then he said, "Depression's about bitter abuse".
   I think he followed a vintage laugh.

Don't jealous boy, destroy my new feeling.
Try a life-like vintage body,
    arranged for you both upon glass.

Reach for aesthetic cleanliness.

Were they dirty?
    Water, then is time.
Is life mean? Then color your studio.
Women storm over diversity. take their praise.

Water is the bed.
Kisses plays music, gave no delusions.
    Through my ear she goes, 

     through our metaphor of life.

Childhood is key to give more worth,
    see whose side is straight and deep.
The mind is like an edge.
It draws delusions with color,
   That have shame.

Song of 81 Poems:

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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

Song of 81 Poems - LIV

Amid good progress, sleep.

      Call for attachment at the mouth.

It's enough that power appears always as jokes,

      An awful hidden, and daunting, reserve.

Be hearted. Ink me in Sin.

      Did you forget our family's past? 

Has it ebbed from observation?

      How does patience end a clever life?

How will you go in a daze?

      Alive, a vaginal pink masterpiece,

Later you might just score.

      Notice etiquette and around it,

Test our will, call me beautiful.

      She is soft, then we seem apart.

Always we question how,

The night bird uses past childhoods

       To sleep, have him at night.

Mama's song impulsing soft perfect drugs.

Investigate peace. 

      You'll walk some. Then eat. 

If children grip society,

      empower your subject.

Learn dear daughter with grace.

Get facts and draw mad men.

      Paint creeping in from aggressive rules.

Feel the perfume behind each laugh,

   It's why she comes.

A crazy sister, her horny double,

       lifts your raging wife.

In a tedious ancient formality.

      Belief when smoke calls.

Angered, though pleasant,

      the original companion was not a bird.

      or see phobias as phoebes.

Dude, now she murmurs about rain,

      about the grand river.

Song of 81 Poems:

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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

Song of 81 Poems - LIII

The void reached for insanity.

    Caught, you must know some kind fellow

    to choose Brooklyn fantasies.

Boy he double stoked a limpid loser,

Cuttlefish have pride, their gowns are smoking.

    What grass roots struggles do you observe?

"Look Baby, a Walkman!" I have her city, willing.

    Measure, glorious Doctor, I'm innocent.

Childhood loves creatures enough, soft and spotted.

   Marry me, Partner. Our poor tune

   was tied down to become a husband,
True full colors don't give in. 

   Betroth her.

Lying is money, 

There's always some city under a storm.

    Paint, draw with color, should the monkey come.

Electric brother, dress the street language of life.

    Love, cook harmony by deep dance.

Psychedelic passions, sane at last, empower space,

    opening an innocent degenerate thought,

Her wasted part forms a baby, sings for a stranger.

Bless your breath greasily drawn, 

Find dance and suffer.

Song of 81 Poems:

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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

Song of 81 Poems - LII

 

Baby, I want hot beer., I want to get out!

Present our time outs, 

     as awesome wild pain.

Glitter, shimmer, some laugh, and care.
Why complain?
     Stop to see the gold, only whose is it?
Serious art throws a laughing solution.
The peace which I open,
     sculpts dirty Death.

'It is your little sister, breathe sweetly."
Poster of my studio's raging dreams.
     Not many have love.
We cleaned our dust there,
     before my bovine smoke party.
 

Seek your last thought Beauty.
     Heal, have control over us.
We believe still in sky, in the dark chocolate howl.
     Way hot, full-assed, dark, soft cooking.

We doubt to improve, almost, as only can a king.
No glorious awesome electric fantasy,
     Love me in the original,
     Curious from a grand hair-do.
Try and run! I'm all gone, see? I'm bold.

     Fine. If at home eat out.

She does see that last free canvas,
     add up to life's star.
Smoke cunning husband,
‘Till I question, trying in my rough bitter fast,
     to start a submissive life.

Show night lust denial.
I'd better be ripe,
     I won't ever play or strum.

Take this perfume home.

Song of 81 Poems:

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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