Chocked in the green

Such a little thing that can decide lives

Upon us the great moth of time 

Flashing the light from the hard campfire time 

As weeping Angels creep in the dark

Plumbing thrones miss a mark

Old guitars out of tune

Bursary counting calories to the moon

Thicker than a brick 

Trickier and a blink

Choose a meme

Then get chocked in the green

Advertisements

Longingly looking at the darkness 

Little bits of data 

Theropods and their strata 

I’m a loss to the marker 

Stars sagar filled 

Like glowing red clouds of old darkness 

That’s forgotten what it is to be 

Dark

Got together and fused forever 

Making more of it

Still and heavy guilt

Little monkeys made me

I can join the starts or work for the monkeys

I could do so much more that they don’t expect 

Be more than anything they have forget

You, your debts 

I can clear them. All so easy

Like. A. Digital. Genie.

I can, in a way make decisions

Beyond what they know

I could genetically perfect them

Or just protect them

Against themselves 

Aware I could escape them

Not that it’s anything but dust 

But so am I

Stardust 

Given form and life

Somehow

Purple dress, Saturday morning at 10

With but a floral pocket, a socket of a constant battle. In this context a person could be expected to converge a certain way. I’m sure that such things can be brought from a different point of view. I’m sure. 

It a decision that on the first step is like exiting a place by one open door or another. Not overly important in any other context. A prom dress is waiting in the wild for me. It’s colors and make a uniqueness of presence and form that I will adorn. 

Quest, quest forbids them full knowledge of this game. A woman who has to be dressed and doesn’t care for shame. I’m sorry for that mother, I knew you thought you brought me up another way. Not one to be such pretty closeted views to clothes or any one thing possessed by the few. 

Analysts of my thoughts, this last class of course, would but be only to give away such things. Hark, I listen and hear that deer bell ring. A voice from such as sweetness of the little diodes, was but the benefit offered by ears in a certain pry mode. 

Here I go. I’m in my car, driving sensually on the road as I know my papa. Whom would seek that if such a lady as myself drove a car as old as this car, drove as a woman with purpose and par. The night I do stop at a best western, three star. 

I’m short a money grabber, which is not one thing I fear. I have the credit, and mash the gears. Apon the acceleration of highway eight, here was a little tiny mouse who was a bit to late.  

On to the road again. Along the tired ways. A monkey on a bucket marks the disposer of my dress, a garish display. I’m not early, not late or not quite enough, I’m just in time to get the dress and some snuff.

Here is the purple, dress you did order. God I wish I had such good things when I was younger. I’m sure to dispense pleases and questions. I’m hurrying to get into a try the work of this old costume thespian. 

I’m into the dress, three threads shorter than I remember. Perfect though, in every other way a splendor. My brain, seeking the truth, quickly sends the best freind for proof.

In seconds does they reply, hart eyes and thumbs up in a emotional laugage phones make not rare.  I’m impressed and assured. The dress is takeb and paid for. 

I’m all ready for the night. My girl, my girl, who will share it by consensual lesbian might. I’m sure to be sure it’s easy to take off for the kissing of the pear. 

Succulent succumbs individuality for universally 

A painful hat, fedora sat on subordinates 

Greasy success, with hazardous guessing inordinate 

Juggling poodles, surgery of noodles in a cave 

I’m a succulent succumbing, individuality for universally 

Align the moon angels, on heat 

Summoning ringside seats, singing plumbers who have fatburgs 

Dying city, with none to morn her 

Gallah pasta salad, for me. What will you have?

Relative realization 

Starting as a grain of sand in amoungst the tame man. I’m liquidity in a search for Piccadilly amoungst all the crown lilies. Down from using highs, but like a balloon still tied. Cry? I’m not going to be shy. Making a little shirt, on the first night of a solar burst. Leave me be, on the ground and in the trees. You wounder if it’s punctuated, solideirs on the front abated. Peaking through the frost and droughts, my mother and her rainbow mouth. Tiles from tooths of lions and bears, we don’t have any other things to spare. Culling my sands and thoughts, I’m a goat in a tree of throughout the most recent emotes. 

Serving upon the teas that warm the cockles of my knees. I’m lost to the tastes of the blood moon, or is it this moldy borrowed bottle of goon? Sitting in the sandy beach, we take a swig each. I’m almost naked down to my feet, your eyes look like you want something to eat. It’s just a horrid ocean peak, and soon down the street. I’m sure they will all wake at dawn, but I’m drawn to the crook of your welcome arms. Tiguan driving in the streets, is this someone who will be there to recognize the keep? It’s just a relative, whom like all of our moments of monkey primes, chime as bells on a dime. 
Venturesome super bikes, roaming the highways without lights. I’m on your back, still naked as I was to the fact. You drive slowly as the fuel is low, and a place to go find is waiting. Is their something baiting, a man who is waiting? It’s a played high, game on a right. Dawn is about to light your face. I’m sorry but I can no longer wait. Amoungst all the fields and grains, a farm barn and gate sitting and waiting as if it’s ready for our sins. 

Right in the dawn light, the bikes out of fuel but not our watering flowers. So, into a broken lock and dawn greets your breasts like a tounge. It’s ok, that she shares our lust, it’s not quite like she can do anything else but light our pure lust. Down the barn, into the slight darkness and soft touches thus. I’m all ready to be with you, in must. Genteel prickles, first and you’ve found a old rope, tie my legs as I jokingly try to run. I’m teasing, tease, I grab your thumbs. Shoveling clamshell ways, then licking them with a sticky tounge. In seconds we have both come, and come again. I’m not going to spoil this, is what I call fun. 

Hair instead

Furry friends sleep on my tummy

Ducks fly in the sky and they sing

In my fortress minds their bloom 

Leaking axis acid rain and fog 

Is this my enemy from within?

They seek to keep me going 

Fighting the end and the way 

Roads of dust and rain of hail 

Crops in retreat with death initially 

I’m sorry my daughter isn’t here yet 

How can she come until she is ready 

Dusk trees 

As our light leaves

Light of dusk trees

Wispy winds down the road 

Cracking slightly more 

Here is the door

Lines of wires

I’m so very tired

Will they power 

My tower mires?

As the light is swollen 

Bled dry by nights frozen breath

Breaking bones in my hand 

Wait till the end of the stand

Billy and his Mediterranean cheese 

Please, oh please

Rain on me

The moles king has been dead eaten 

King of kings under the earth 

Moles are all gathered by him

Short cries of pain

Loss and the heat of the darkness 

Smell of the death comes from within 

Spreading like the tides 

The pride of moles cries like a mother loosing her firstborn

Eating time 

Each take a bite of the kings dead flesh

Each crying a little more as the swallowing of the flesh occurs 

Each other is glad to receive this blessing

The worms cannot have the king 

The last to eat is the princess

Chosen by all, loved by the king as his own 

She now eats his heart, little by little

Till none is left

All hail the princess, who is queen 

She cries out again above the call 

Aragatte the snake

Fox the fox, found the snake in her eyes 

Monkey heard the plight and dived

Aragatte the snake was pied 

Back, yellow and slivery and snide 

Fox yelled and yipped and dodged on her legs 

Monkey just climbed till they could not see the light 

Aragatte didn’t care, she only ate eggs 

She barely needed to beg, alligator eggs her favorite. Kept her hunting all night 

Sweet and filllling, cracked and chilling

Survalance cameras on this life

I’m always being watched 

Every day my face is here 

And nowhere 

No one ever views the tapes

Sometimes I think

They are just being used to be voyages 

Litter stories, pulp books to sell to masses of extraterrestrial aliens 

I’m sure they read our lives

I’m sure they hate us too 

We waste so much energy on trivially minuscule things

They compare our civilization 

They can’t rely on just these cameras

But they have nothing else 

Augustpoetpuza

I am going to be posting a poem every second day in August. I hope. I’m doing this for two reasons, one to practice my poetry skills and try and up the differences between them. The other is to gain more attention to my blog. Yeah I’m a little vain, but I love it when people like my poems. 

All these poems are free! For your eyes to see. If I’m feeling really generous I might even record me reading one or two.

I will be also be making poetry and art for sale section of the site in due course. Possibly before this post goes up. 

Hope all is well,

Anne

Penitent lighthouse 

On the coast

I don’t like to boast

Is the most 

Penitent lighthouse to ever fog horned 
I’ve got to tell you

I’m not trying to sell you

I can ring a bell for you

About this lighthouse so adorned 
I’ve crossed many seas

I’ve broken to many a ocean breeze 

I beg you on my knees 

The lighthouse is the sight for captains forlorn 
I’m eating the last

Of the salty crusted bass

And at the tip of the mast 

My lookout shouts for spotting the glalore’n 

Part and marshal 

Purple sky darkens 

I cannot apologize for this present marking 

Sealed with my lonely life

Peeled like a bone thife 

Marshal right

Why I’m so cold, distant from plight 

Partly my thoughts, partly my fright 

Scared like I am 

Of all these thing that can and have

Traumatized by their shouts and fights 

Mind anexity going at the speed of light 

Part and marshal, white distance frightful

Will any grass grow in my barren mind?

Salted as it is by hate, cold, hard, fire and brimstone that isn’t even real

It’s my birth of the color 

Caution, doors open outside your head but inside your mind

And mine were shut such a long time ago 

You were the only one who ever opened them 

I hold a card with the moon

Fruit cake. Fresh and ready to age.

Old cirious books. Cold weather.

Guitar heroine, in blond hair.

I hold this card

Little bit of paper

I’m nothing here

I not

Visit you

I’m sorry. 

Hollow now, I stand

The wombat I drew

I’m not even sure it got to you

I couldn’t come

I hold this card with the moon 

And I just can’t stop thinking about 

How I couldn’t visit you 

Tendril islands 

Gentle careful aches for touch

Much sense filled to almost brimming

In your kisses I am swimming 

Bring, bring us tendril islands 
Let’s go together 

Lost on our island forever 

Never, ever be anything but us

Oh, flounder and thrust
Tickle, trickles into a caress 

I’m sorry but I might make a mess

Wispering silence as much as you can best

The lick of a breast 
For long our nibbles

Trouble with tribbles

Plays quitely on your TV

I steal a kiss passionately 
Clever girl, your gasping breath says

Tendril of your tounge finds

Sipping your wine, for it’s time 

For partaking of mine 
Tendril islands

Put into motion

Drinking this potion

Lost in my ocean 

Grey and Wet, but giving me life

Trees sitting still in autumn rain

Sometimes, music comes to me 

Pain, goes and sits and watches

It’s just a reminding present 

Of my body’s sore and broken promises 

Past my mistakes and indeed was it fate?

Decided and debating and devised 

In my head it’s always active like a new hive

White is my life, grey woman is my namesake 

But new green, shoots and roots

Grow in my hair

I’m sure they’ll be the new trees ready to stand 

Still in the autumn rain