Friday, December 25, 2020

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:

  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 
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

Featured Post

Guide to Chaga Harvesting and Preparation

I've already posted on the positive benefits of Chaga for the health. Other sites on the web go into detail about this bounty of th...

Search This Blog