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
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.
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?
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.
Down den
Frenzy pen
Elite men
All in a cave parade
Great gelding
Meldly meats
Opus beats
All in a cave parade
Southern seas
Tounges deeply
Hammer beating
All in a cave parade
Its a cave parade
Deeply powerful them
Hide from bombs and wrath
While for us that’s that.
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
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?
Bluetooth sings in his water bottle of a cave
In the cave a cuttlefishes garden
She has but sucking flowers
Goes on and on for hours and hours
Trying tinkles rye ropes
Harping ways of timing crossing
Just as much the work
As well as the day of afterburners
Gurney often courageous enough
Clouds tucked in bed
Excuses on dinnerware
Astronomers distanced herself
I’m floating in a cupcake
Assistant secretary for pegs
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
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
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
Jumping candles not all Jack did
Nimble candles, jumping quick
Predicting the nightmares
Frosting street, silencing night
Battling with the blood kings men
Never a boring day or night be for Jack
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
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
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.
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
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
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
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
