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

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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 

Barky trees, crescent moon, frosty bitterness 

Good deep soil takes aches away

Rooted in this place 

Others, under the same crescent moon

Drink in stony places

Bitter frosting us both

Bark, long and dark 

I’ll never meet them

Not now or soon or ever no matter how I swoon

My flowers bloom for them as much

Grow up, from this frosty days

Into the misty spring

My bark, bark grows ever mossy

Moons pass

And the frost comes and I wounder if my rock biting lovers 

Are doing as well again?

Galaxy hall

I’m on my way down to galaxy hall the meeting place of devils and gore 

In the blustery palls sits every kind of horned beast of flamed saw 

And while I yawn my mothers calm breaths and the seas dark depths I am all gone

For about this place, is a bezel and grace that you’d not think would be adore

Flames along the way, and a marshal of the rammer army 

Playing hellish beats, and frying golden meats in the kitchen for the feast

I’m starting to feel welcome and safe which I did not expect to be a part of such a place 

I’m here now and must be making the best I can

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

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

Lacertae 

Ducks. Snow. Tamed memories.

Little things I remember. 

Your presence. Essence. The place in the world your had. 

Eclipse. Moonshine. 

Pentagram, in a logical place.

Never, ever, even being. 

Your words that saved me. And these little things I do. 

Pain gone. That’s a comfort.

I’m trying. Trying to be worthwhile. 

Desolation the empty. Insidious clouds empty snow. But they are fleeting. 

Worthwhile? What is that to a tiny snowflake? To a duck on the lake waiting out the rain? 

The world, the essence of it, comes from our little bits of time. 

Yours, to breif. 

Endless fog to hide in, endless fog to hide from

Just as confused 

Flowing through my mind

Hiding behind a tree or a bush

My brain drying out like this biting morning 

Peaceful trees to sit on away from home 

Sun and leaves come and go

Hide from myself and everything 

As they all hurt me

Everyone, everything, it all hurts 

Domestic chords and monestic cores

Sometimes I wanted 

Dark, again already 

The bell rings 

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