Monday, February 8, 2021

Song of 81 Poems - XLVI

 



Come obsessive young Partner, "Why am I fashion?"
   Throw positive water in every delight.
In pure nights, use sleep, observe virgin sound.
   Walks create grandeur.

In motion, high as a milky soft space.
   I heard them, and thee.
   The category played.
   A still life's always dormant.
   Come, thank-you, I will throw positive water.
Thanked yes, we never mumbled language.

When we stop guilt, whose was it?
   Young babe, to those around us,
   Be her man. I'll suffer.
   "Good boy! Think I'd forget my pal is feeling better."

I lost a bet, to question night birds:
   How should we improve?
Almost, I was only thinking,
   We'll take rainbows from positive kids.

Come Death, angel of pain,
   How does a being will patience, into life.
"Might I uphold sculpted harmony,
   Delve into surreal subjects?"

 Young babe, when we make deep sky,
     Will reapers send old silent music?
We must hurry, see in tea a secret sin.
Brothers, watch the cat fragment.
     when we're aware together.

Hmm, no pain.
   Sir, higher systems worry Mom.
She felt captured, loved, hated, in passion,
   "Grand King, you'll discover our ritual here."

Go to where that cat almost howls,
   Try a rough bitter fast.
"Glass husband, you are guile!"
  Monstrous women have shame.



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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