Monday, January 11, 2021

Song of 81 Poems - LVIII



Mom ate glass in balance, 
    to deal with our grand bitter life.

Okay, we're up, yonder, on other pages,
   They never told us their opinions.
      Models grope, so I'd better fly, in pain.

Abuse communicates, I'll choose a metaphor!
   Reasons why life should appear still.
      My perfect sound is ugly.

"Disorder an enormous, mellifluous thought?"
   Our presence pleased him.
      "Has he ebbed your observation?"

Think not of great passion, 
   or of what marvelous creature comes,
      He 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, at night, by positive kids.

Better to live love, model, and investigate peace,
   as a studio experiment. 
Passion brother husband!
      I've seen him bold, married to thought.

Partner think, drink nicely, this will be right.
   Faithful aggressive rules never capture!
      Curious in crazy joy, she demands some sense of beauty.

We love life,
   taking 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 
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

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