Is It Poetry poems

Document Sample
Is It Poetry poems Powered By Docstoc
					                                           Poetry Series




                                   Is It Poetry
                                            - poems -




                                       Publication Date:
                                               June 2009



                                              Publisher:
              PoemHunter.Com - The World's Poetry Archive


Poems are the property of their respective owners. This e-book was created by Is It Poetry on
www.poemhunter.com. For the procedures of publishing, duplicating, distributing and listing of the poems
published on PoemHunter.Com in any other media, US copyright laws, international copyright agreements and
other relevant legislation are applicable. Such procedures may require the permission of the individuals holding
the legal publishing rights of the poems.
                                         Is It Poetry (Only Visits New York's)
                                         Is It Poetry was born around 34 B.C. and died 5 july 9 A.D. at the hands of
                                         his many wives.He sired so many children, by them, they could not keep up
                                         with them.They decided they had borne enough children for him, when the
                                         numbers reached a staggering total of three hundred thirty two.Being grate
                                         full his wives, ever humble kept him safe from all the evils the others ould
                                         plan..Many of his writings were passed down through the children of his
                                         Reinaldo wives.His nationality, was never ascertained though he traveled
                                         frequently to purchase women who were then slaves..It is said he would free
                                         them each after they married him..When new poems are discovered they are
                                         published. Many mantraps(the wives kept the poems to sell for many,
                                         mantrap)         still bear little bloody finger prints of what is thought to be
                                         from some of his wives.We hope you enjoy him, as is so apparently did most
                                         of his wives.

                                         Works:

                                         when grace vist you in sleep...
                                         You look in the mirror..




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                                                             2
          (It)                               Is Hard Being Smart

          If I am so smart why did (it)                            take me
          over two years to get over a
          nervous break down.
          If I am so smart why are they taking my
          land for other taxes *Roman I am not
          don't wish to be*...They are now gone..
          and welcome to america..*smile*
          If I am so smart why did I just say that
          *Romans I love I am just me*.
          If I am so smart a hand in her mane
          thinking me a sparrow one very real
          Eagle on top.
          If I am so smart why do I love cheese
          thinking about some Englished
          wench now..i long have since forgotten her.
          If I am so smart why do I feel
          so dumb?
          O.K.so your smarter than me..
          Do you trade in used parts..?

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                              3
          (It)       I (It)

          It is so small on the wall like
          a fly hearing all.
          It is like the breeze wind (IT)
          up never down.
          It can see with one I
          dont need 2.
          It knows your smart
          writes him off.
          It cannot write knows
          you can thus you do
          not for him.
          It is on the floor making
          out with his I.
          It needs you like you need it
          tell him why like you can
          show your love
          you know how
          do (it) by writting a great poem for (IT)
          know you no how.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive       4
          ) ............... plain robe

          She squats, so lost, to gaunt
          frail, the cost of weeping is
          knowing, she will not fold you.
          Into this robe it holds for you, is it.

          In it's blindness, it stumbles in, her it
          clutching her robe, her skirt, she looks,
          as heaven opens, it is never old again.

          The hope of the world, it's joy is worn,
          between the seams, the counts, fulminates
          insinuate,
          thin threads your this, robe forever plain.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive         5
          ) ............... professional Woman

          She didn't even want to, then thought to do it.
          Trying to send such silky experience, over
          to touch my softness...why..?
          For what, to know me, the I of it, inside of me? but why..?
          Had I fallen in her, your trap, rimed folds heavenly
          she would have slain me, drained me, Eaton me,
          it, he, the me, in him, but why..?
          I am hard, harder than buttered trees,
          she is a professional, sex is her weapon of choice, in gaze.
          I should have then, wept throaty, gutturals..why..not?

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                          6
          ) .................she is afraid, it is tired...smile

          she, is it..it is..she..looks at.. it, so tired...
          It, has run around the world,
          inside... your head..!
          You would see it's sun,
          it lays within.... your shadow..
          The fun is in your smile,
          it is on your lips..it is your sea..
          You think of it as a flirt, did you walk the..
          Thames.? .Or the Rhine? when you talk of it.? .
          Wherever you are, it is there, with your smile,
          and you are afraid, it is tired...
          The comments it makes,
          in the passing of time, is the
          history of it, you erase with your smile,
          Love, it is so tired..it is, .. always in your..*smile*

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                     7
          ) ................dreams of.. Picasso and Dali...eating

          I awake, to sleep in voices
          pouring wine, into plates
          on a string,
          hanging from between, her eyes,
          they wave me onto thier face,
          to drink a cracker,
          of tears as cheese, dripps from her tongue, inside it,
          she is trapped, in a bubble between the two men,
          with one giant dropp, of milk peaking from Picasso's chest,
          I roll over, into her hand.
          Dali seizes the moment, to raise his brush,
          words drip from the tip,
          he waves like a sword, heavy in both hands,
          demanding
          the return of my mustache that was between her thighs,
          Picasso, sold to pay for words of paint,
          made in flesh tone tubes,
          from raw steak,
          she looks at me,
          i see only a face, with my finger, going through her left
          necessary and out her right eye, in
          sleep washed, paint.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                         8
          ) ................i am sorry it is on the run

          It just cannot eat that,
          the other,
          not you,
          no matter what.
          It is not buff, it isn't a rose.
          It is not dreamy, or heavenly's,
          cream of soft wavy shores,
          the rim of fire.
          She knows by now it swells.
          She will come looking for it,
          the real deal,
          not a three dollar bill.
          Does not every John on the streets,
          flow against that?
          Misguide as what?
          You may know the part,
          yet when you look down,
          it is just a forest of trees.
          Wood is for roses
          to cling to
          as they grow to heaven
          weeping the sky
          seeking fun in the sun.
          Always blushed, always full,
          as once with he,
          was a band on the run..
          from the law.
          It did not do the deputy though..

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive           9
          ) ................it shook you

          Soft a rose.
          Dying what
          fell from his
          open hand?
          Scented in
          Yes, it's still.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   10
          ) ................moon note is night

          Moons veiled eye,
          traces one thin,
          seed of wood in violins
          keyed note,
          haunting beat,
          traced on soft hair,
          within burns her bow.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   11
          ) ................old playhouse wooden floor

          The house is full,
          as full as those trunks,
          the Levant men so grazed
          do wave.
          You gaze for miles of wire,
          You will never see it,
          it is you they wave to.
          Bodies of man, singular mime plurality
          except oft the nose it's breath is you.
          Reaching into you, your seat,
          it plucks you as the peanut from the earth
          inside you roam.
          Trunk, miles of truculent trunk, within those hairs
          brush,) it(s grasp the meaning of the winds soft breeze,
          that smells the breath of you.
          Just as quickly, reaching out with this the shell of you,
          back inside,
          the seat, your moon it's name it cannot hide, from you.
          Your husband calls your name, Your ticket punched...
          If looks could kill and you had his gun, would you.......?

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                        12
          ) ................Reserved to Ink

          Follows hill it speaks to,
          for ever does sun rise, it never sets in you.
          Many are the bluffs in whites,
          red, tow brown, it's yellow, wings to shelter.
          Feet in sand, eyes can cry, silky handsome,
          clouds are puffed, crystal wings do drone.
          Grey, brown, black offs shade, today is yours,
          tomorrow came, swift swallows, Lillie's fond.
          A hidden hollow read, draws circles, locks the
          turtles, Peter, kathy's golden swan, clear pond.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive              13
          ) ................when mice sleep

          i cracks the door..
          scusting..kissing..
          absolute cousins..
          i hides under bed..
          sleeps with smile..

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   14
          ) ...............a female brain pulls it's pin

          Again it is existentially diminished it's trail
          being as Ursala, phenomenally unbalanced to find
          a way, without pheromones tail of spears.
          These hers, it's trail mixed with other crumbs, one
          tired ant tries to climb up her clean window, in need of
          more than the six other feet,
          it left behind, on some marble twin sleds.
          Still grace is grace, as you watch, smiling glad you are
          not it, some maniacal ant loyal to Regina having few
          rumbas we her loyal subjects taste the known scent of
          these it's intertwined kamikaze missions.
          Still amazingly amused, a muse or not, the ant has more than
          a few pens left in it's small heavenly, is it's endowed
          pin filled mind, as it draggs the whole hog into the hole.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                          15
          ) ...............bee stream

          Drowsy hot, beats
          wings of many feet.
          Thin clear fans, strain
          hums tunes in honey.
          Running around as, it's
          rain golden wine flows,
          presumptuously, truant.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   16
          ) ...............dear daughter

          when you read this, you will be old enough,
          to say the words slowly, not rushed
          as the other OJ..
          Do not tell your secrets to others,
          or they will come in between you and
          another, she covets.
          When you see some thing, grab it dont think
          the price will come down,
          because if it is good,
          it will be gone,
          or the price will be so hi, you cannot afford it.
          Last being out side of the circle of
          ) whatever's, (who invented this word should be
          smothered slowly,) ..you will learn more, suffer more,
          over come, prevail.
          P.S. Daughter, remember if he's smart,
          do not play those stupids drama island games,
          with his head,
          or by the time you read this it may be to late..
          Foot note,
          they did not work in my school, they canna work out.
          With a smile.. :) ..and two winks, winks..i am your dad.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                      17
          ) ...............emo gurl

          It is a radicalised reparation of my haunting,
          burned out lie.
          It is, it's drug it chooses, it's lips are fostered,
          is in to pules of the mirror, it washed from, in
          it's anticipation, compressed, is pulled, apart
          from in blood.
          No one will lend me you!) it anew shinny buff.
          It digs out it's old, always new, it's rusty dull, is
          jagged, ragged slice, it's pale hairless pie hole,
          so thin, it's only
          voiceless now, is it's wait.
          The light is bright, the pie hole quivers, shakes on
          it's love swept rocks, barren of hope, shallow is it's
          depth wide is to deep, looking out within is a gush.
          WAITING...
          It stares into, within, it looks out inside it's hand trembles
          down ward, again and again, this pole once of wood, now
          it is once again my shame.
          Across it, down it, as like my tears, across a white barren
          bluff of porcelain, it's now dry face of relief,
          spent to lie on the ever jagged edge
          of it's day..washed in dark...dripps..of dropps..now red..
          is again it's bed,
          of hopelessness your love for me..it lays in, once again.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                            18
          ) ...............emo our mirror

          In sleep, clear hose needled razors eye hole, it drains.
          In my dream,
          ten feet long, black nail polish, is our song.
          Emo steps out from, this mirror, the two alone, smiling
          together, waxed hard, out of sight of mirror.
          Dim is the red light, in through window so piercingly,
          night mare two feedings.
          You, him share it's hose, so clearly, passing it back
          forth inside both, translucency.
          Stepping into the back mirrored, it is dropped, dripping
          red flags spot, cross sheets, through tired, red carpet.
          Four eyes, inside of two, toss rags hair, legs deep cover.
          Rolled all of this inside on top, rolled around, one bottom button.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                 19
          ) ...............emo, she is

          like a bird to see her sitting, roses are
          of passions dream, in sight her flight.
          butterfly's know her grace, touches many
          all, weeping softly, others without, it is sadly.
          ants march to her smell, hidden never off
          to carry bubbles, her journeys path, clear.
          essenes of berries her, moistness air laden
          dears follow, youth will, never currents to cross.
          raises wind, cover embodies still, covered up
          she, glories light golden, honey is her, in poise.
          yet she knows, she fav'es him, his heart just bursts...
          It loves you just the way you are,
          it is so full of you it's crushed.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                     20
          ) ...............hearing it, you dropps it, it cries

          You pull it's string,
          your button is covered in song.
          You laugh in it, it looks up at it, sleepy falling
          to rush it's skeins bare knee.
          It's knee weeps one lolly, is solitaire dropp of you.
          The it's red is by you, it is hidden,
          coveted, septet from the worlds view,
          as the world was it's call, it is now is you.
          It is swept up under your greatness, living canopy, to
          your clear bandit, it rests on, while you sing, to it.
          Who will catch the dropp, of it as you watch, it fall?

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                    21
          ) ...............ill do it ill jump

          The wind is cool,
          cooler than I stand alone,
          at the top, of this bridge.
          It is a long way down,
          rescue vehicles, they wave, is beacon.
          hundreds of people, police.
          There are none, up here with me, none.
          I think I will leave, come back tomorrow.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive       22
          ) ...............I'm, just like you..

          Without thinking, i also turn and lash out
          with my teeth exposed, do you now, not get
          this picture in full...right....now..im like you,
          so fed up of pent up scenes, i wish i were
          miles apart, gone from my head, when i lay
          on those sheets, do you think there of white
          satin, on which i like, you do so crave, I'm just
          like you, there filled so far high, to the ceiling
          and down to the floor of raw denim, stains on
          both my cheeks, from the blues, just like you.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                23
          ) ...............no one can a fake smile forever

          Is is beyond being hurt again, by
          another, like the other, you knew
          Finally, it took never long enough.
          It cannot even feel you, to like her.
          When the knife was pulled out, it's
          tear just looked at you, as you fell.
          What is to understand, one wink chill.?
          It is just the eye, some storm, again
          some drain, one prefers to be blind.
          Still who ever you are, It smiles, in you.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive              24
          ) ...............oceans tire

          She will lay, spent.
          Puffing, reviewing.
          Reliving, all again.
          Waves, on beach.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   25
          ) ...............one hive one bee

          He stands there, a month
          in the sun, golden alone.
          No smoke to harvest, is
          it has been since, none.
          Honey runs, from into, air
          no jar.
          Bees gather the ground.
          Crimson clover, turns over,
          a song of wings, hurried,
          pockets, blossomed with
          orange, scented flowers.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   26
          ) ...............pressure cooks

          Rims are not rims,
          lids are as different as are the cans, is
          to the jar we stew our potatoes in.
          The process is messy at times the first
          time you peal the fruit, there is panic.
          Eyes some time sprout, before it is time,
          the grocer is our next best friend, is she?
          Pressure cooks every thing faster, some
          times to fast, can you hear, that whistle?
          The finger is often burned, checking the
          contents,
          check the seal often, to make sure it's wet.
          When the rim is bent or warped, start the
          process over again, ageing some times helps.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive          27
          ) ...............she is earth in waves to swell

          The oceans,
          cool warm tides,
          fresh ice,
          flow in around up,
          soft folds,
          rain inside, hot Terra.
          Locks welsh Glens,
          hold moist foggy fjord.
          Soundless, glaciers move
          voice lost, soul filled icy
          tr ac, blue calves hear Avalon's,
          reach clear edge, is
          stream exposed, it runs
          back washed to Terra's sea.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive             28
          ) ...............thankful that woman have better parts

          I run to catch her sweat, it
          is the early mist, morning.

          Where she walks, is lightly
          seed is planted, she grows.

          Between full moons, heavy
          tears fall, clouds do look up.

          Only she knows, tounge of life,
          refresh yesterdays, new smile.

          Apples fall from her hands, at
          the feet her tree that is, luckily.

          You her breath, teaches wind
          the path, to flow inside, all sails.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                    29
          ) ...............The Professional

          Processional, cocked, locked,
          loaded, gallons for justice bust, all
          is six 'feet 'two 'four inch are heals,
          which squeals
          shrill cut gluttonous oinks,
          from her house, pet pigs.
          Succeeded hearts long cork screw tails,
          tweaks evenly one heavy man.
          Her worlds invisable to all, still his
          this most lovely man, that can't be hers.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive       30
          ) ...............warm rock garden

          Is very warmly, in
          appreciation of
          it's trees, blow on
          one gardens rock.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   31
          ) ...............Wind Lifts Nights Varanasi Silk Saree

          Most men drought.
          One cool clear day.
          When dew arrived.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                    32
          ) ..............a bee, a bird, ayoung woman, is free

          Do you hold back, then
          do you blush and smile.
          Do they make you feel
          like, you have to look
          away, when you gush?
          With your finger caught
          in trap of the bee, in you.

          They do not understand, you
          and if they do, they have so
          been programed to make
          you think it's terrible > bad, when....

          It is simply a bird, in play with a bee, then....
          why do some say, it is well, nasty, obscene..
          you are not ashamed then...
          do not ur parts get hot..to.
          do you not find ur self trying to dig through
          ur pants ur skirt? ...while again...
          you blush thinking this, yes but you do..
          ur panties get wet if you think about
          your man to long and u do..i know because
          your normal..ur pinks get hot and u have to
          rub them..u rubs them to long and u pass out..that is normal to..
          you push ur finger in and out slowly, you dripps to
          gasp, you touch some thing, u get scared and dont
          know where its at, so you digs more is this obscene, - yet you tell me..when then, do
          you think hard so,
          will you blush again, be so much, so pink, so is blushed n weeps,
          to be male, again as a male, breathing inside ur petals soft pinks..
          So you must, stay ashamed of my pink feelings for you, it is thought by
          some these diamonds in your head are intuitive, so floral, arranged
          that this body is you, in smell..but pinks, betray you, soft in heat..

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                                   33
          ) ..............aparts apart we play

          As she watches me, split the pages
          with her exacted, the blade trades places,
          with the paper.
          She appreciates my frugal, conservatism.
          The paper can appreciate the soft cheekbones
          of my desperation, the highs and lows, thereof.
          What is received, is not always the part that act
          reacted, to see a play re done, in practise.
          I like most, am only your puppet, afool a host for
          ghosts, you toast at roasts.
          I am not a Victorian, blue blood rich in iron, curried.
          Favors never come easy, as such are never released
          is aparts apart we plays, on stage

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                     34
          ) ..............it rolls in flavor around ones feet

          Still you think the part,
          you play, it is done again thought over,
          with you thinking of it,
          as it runs around in side your head.
          Your seat is still warm, printed with the moon,
          a weeping face, It holds up to the the soft light.
          The popped corn, languishes on the lap,
          of of your wife untouched by hand.
          It's ants carries the soft warm kernels away,
          still dripping,
          with the butter, of her the wife you lost,
          when you fell asleep, watching it.
          Maybe she lives to love an ant then,
          maybe it is her aunt, that watches with her.
          Still the kids laugh as the stool, upon witch you rest,
           on top of, this your crown jewel,
          is but a counter fit raisin,
          that was squeezed out to soon.
          The sun rises in the west,
          and sets on the southern shores, where cliffs are still pink,
          and her marble is rose always honey soft and full.
          Looking up into the peanut gallery, it looks down on you,
          happy knowing you are as brand new as the sun,
          washes clean all that made down, eyed on make up.
          It this the you, asks?
          why dont you buy more popcorn, sit down, and fall asleep.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                           35
          ) ..............marathon

          A good clean
          track,
          will never leave
          one,
          begging hearts.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   36
          ) ..............note is night

          It has weeped, it's
          musics light, night
          after light, tonight.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   37
          ) ..............one green blade of sweet reason

          Resting against to sleep unbent
          out side world always asks why?
          Reason reason reasoned I ask
          because it is green coat it comes
          with but one reason it is hungry.
          Slumbers by in reason drunk still
          intoxicated from shame unrealized
          except through enforcement upon I.
          This is of course to her very reasonable
          building bamboo bridge against no one.
          I do not interrupt, wine dream sleep is sweet.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive             38
          ) ..............operator

          i understand operator, but, but, but, no ma ma, ma'am
          could you not check the line once more for me instead,
          you are more than kind, yes, yes i am trying to understand,
          i am of a hurry in you, as well, could you not, just this once an
          exception to your rule, would you make on my knees.just to try
          would i please, help me in you, this once to understand.
          boy yo we hold the milk that you need, follow her rules, and
          such as her needs, then she will be pleased, to lend
          you the hand that you need.yes ma' am, i will do as you say.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                               39
          ) ..............poems can make you drink

          Rifleman..you are,
          supposed to be on,
          next, do you still not,
          understand them..?
          What if the song
          is not, about you?
          What if it is, to late?
          Nurse, Sax, scotch.
          You are still so vain.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive      40
          ) ..............rose clingy

          In buffs shinny is pearly,
          miss natural, so Unafraid.
          Never running, may run,
          him down, he will run up.
          Adored in smiles clingy.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   41
          ) ..............she said, something about hair

          Is blind, i didn't really hear why, still
          he is not bad looking,
          she said he's not married.
          she also said,
          he told her,
          she was late picking of her friends,
          husband.
          the only part that struck me odd was,
          she said, he could
          touch your hair, and tell you,
          who you were last thinking of.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive            42
          ) ..............smile to smile, It was brief

          Counsellors come to hear it,
          it is they speaks, of the rouge.
          When the bottoms, button
          say they, is in a morgue.
          The stiffness of lip, the token of
          normalcy, is counsellors dying grief.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive          43
          ) ..............so much kindness

          When i am bad you still love me, why?
          I was only bad to push you away, from my pain.
          It is selfish i know, to protect me from you.
          You are very smart, smarter than me, dont you see?
          My flush is the sea, you make from me, my life is at,
          your feet to bath on me, i am here only to wait on thee, i
          since this, much you do know.But yet other times,
          i feel that you feel i am a big stick of butter full of calories,
          and that you are on a diet of bread and water.
          Yet i know you being you, you will protect me from trouble
          and dreams that are not in the interest,
          of you.So you watch me, you talk to me, you know how to
          save, all of that which you need.To make me a better person,
          and simply, not that other one of greed.
          This blush that i wear, is caused from your stare, of all that is
          always you know that i need.How could you not know, it is you?

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                               44
          ) ..............therapy is

          as i wander, i stop just for a moment, and gaze
          into the faces around me.
          i ask a name, i ask if your happy, i ask why your
          sad, you just ignore me, i am sad.
          i then notice, you dont even know that i'm here, is
          it on purpose, i say some thing flip, your milk jug
          is exposed, you go on talking to your friends.
          i dont think that i'm dead, or a goats, i poke you
          good, real good, you still dont notice i'm here.
          i can only look at this one way, positively, if you wont
          notice me, if you chose to ignore me, it will only make
          it flirt, ten times harder.
          if you do want to play, just remember your parts, or i
          will have to take them in hand.
          i love it, when you know your parts, like the back of
          your hand, as they swell, you blush, i do to.
          i have a hard time in therapy, you do to, dont you?

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                      45
          ) ..............three days

          Roses one day,
          missle the next,
          twin pillars of twinkles, wink, wink
          never blinks, blinks..
          My soul can not rest,
          i must in smile indure her trust, i pray.
          Just in case she wont,
          i will sit under bamboo moon,
          with my friend Li Po.
          She can not take her shadow,
          my friend from thee.
          She canna take her scent,
          it's left upon moons veil i hold.
          She can have my life, without her,
          will i die of thirst, a friend in deed.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive       46
          ) ..............to gaze within

          Lest you do,
          while yes, you lay in sleep.
          You turn, as if on a long bar,
          lost, in it's steel.
          Even space around you,
          shudders you, from without.
          Your peaks glow fiery hot,
          if you were...lips, if only.

          Moister in the room dropps
          from ceilings, white eye.
          It has puddled,
          in and around you, yes
          gasping out.

          To cook as a succulency
          is to find lobsters pink flash.
          Turning butter dripps it's baste,
          hotspots do shrink, shaking.

          Giant is the napkins pink mouth, raining to fall, ... into.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                         47
          ) ..............under the weathers

          I try to understand the sky, weather woman
          says one thing, sky would do another.
          Why worry about some umbrella, no one needs?
          I walk through puddles, just to wash my feet.
          I try to keep my cat away, from one rabbit,
          the other one was traded, for a water pump.
          I just cannot tell about the weather, I cry into my eggs
          because, I can't afford the salt.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                      48
          ) ..............women, who do pick them selves up..do it all..on a lark

          All have read
          my flirt poem
          and comment.
          A coward of
          course will not.

          p.s.some males
          would think they
          are, but you are
          not a woman, ok.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                     49
          ) ..............yea, it is

          Number one rule, mum runs that show,
          number two rule,
          mum runs all the shows..
          Why are
          males so stupid, you knew that before
          you even let it in.
          Friends are cool to, why do people not let
          you know that?
          Black mail, is black mail, there is no flattery
          there,
          threatened tears run back into the duck, to
          shed the oil some place else.
          Today is a day most will not forget, can we
          remember that..

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive             50
          ) ..............you know, do they know

          They are exposed, S.O.S., lighthouse
          in the know, spinning
          short words, hacked nerves,
          blood guts black crusty gore.
          Our norm,
          your cup, drink after drink, it's our blood
          on which you gorged,
          weeny worms, that glow, in the light.

          To Alexandria, is known peaceful, uninjured
          limbs, sound bodies, strong minds, most
          common scents, that handful one since, lost
          in the dreams, of inks mighty sword.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive         51
          ) .............apass to wells

          Such women, water to life
          blanch petrified, when one
          tries, to help them with thier water.

          Well of difference, histories taste
          of tests, old from new, testaments
          are two in one.The faces told all.

          The hand, pours out the mouth, into
          one single bucket, lights onto billions.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive      52
          ) .............apink view

          I stand at watch, this dream caught.
          Issued in, hers, it wiggles, in a gasp, free.
          Disguised the hand, mediums, one portal.
          The finger, under lip, pinker, sleeps deeper.

          Outside it, below, this dream, flows, reflected
          from a richer blush, windows Paine projector.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive             53
          ) .............appeasing curiously

          To think, thinking busy is
          thinking, not to think at t'all.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   54
          ) .............Flirt...Then..or..not...just don't run away..

          It is that I am
          a Flirt, terrible
          i am in you
          always the
          wallowing walrus
          I am always
          yours, my lord
          oohhhh, myyy.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                          55
          ) .............Her Moon

          It is beatiful yes on my back at nite
          how can I get around it? ....) it(fills the
          sky.I smile, short of death, always
          she is happy-to swill some more.
          The Bamboo stalks, me, and are
          all around me) to Flirt(the moon winks, again.
          Hidding behind is robe of many colors, in flair.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive              56
          ) .............i must sit, awhile, a'dream

          It is, no matter, the rain, softly it falls, into
          it's ground from me.
          Weary it is, that i am, i am to weary to be
          wet, yet i am with you, in this, your rain.
          It is quite, it is soft, not as soft, as the pink
          that i love, and adore, when i fall as a feather,
          into you.

          This tree, her limbs bow, through to the grace of her years.
          Her moss when damp, keeps the musk of my fears, deep
          inside, the hollow of her heart, to hold dear, lost of.
          She looks, it is a heartfelt glance, i steal the look with my
          eyes, as i kneel, at the throne of her feet, once more to die
          as she cries, and wanders lost in this, pink worl's of dreams.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                            57
          ) .............in ashell

          people come to see the tree,
          i look down, inside each nut,
          i am, outside, looking to within.
          as the sea of people, are all a
          legend to the nuts they eat, more
          as this, i, me, my, mind off this
          one tree, it is, to dropp on them,
          different to all, they eat of it.
          so many, by the hand-fulls, chest,
          is held, by the trust full one, it is
          to the shell of softness, some do
          question? why eat them at all?
          why eat them all? ..
          if you can't pull it out, break it's back,
          to see it, inside you at all? ..watching
          on a tree top..dropping nuts, on them all.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive        58
          ) .............it is, always            of the same mind

          Females, Gurlz, women, 's algebraic
          Menes, some impossible whey, is beers
          foam denuded, then they pour all the richer bodies
          down the drain, it Grant's d'Estaing.
          How do they get the originals of all the grains of sand
          from that same one pink pearl, back...yet they do..

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                      59
          ) .............Lonely Shame

          Before my hand strikes her door.
          I don't know my mind, Please stop!
          Short knuckles white, light flashed.
          She will hear the scream, of worse.
          Her rubber door stopper, is clinched
          into my mouth, I run, shame so free.
          Bare, friendly, sharp, thorn ed soft
          branches grasp me, as lost lover.
          Overcome by tremors, tics blanched
          fear, to lay choking on a raw tongue.
          My last hope of salvation, is rejected.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive     60
          ) .............My snail

          You talk, it glides
          You walk, it rides.
          You speak, as if you know it. <Will never die.
          You were my very first, a snail, formed from the first.
          You are the egg, I tarry.
          You are lost among, my many.
          You look like all the others, when you come in to play.
          You and your mask, it stays the same, you watch from
          the stalk of heaven, one with two eyes.
          You knew I watched from the many, as you slipped away
          to join the few.
          You are my snail, in you rests my desinty.
          You are not my death.
          You are all her beginings.
          You always knew.
          You, knew, it.
          You, it.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                     61
          ) .............she is just so, heavy

          health dripps
          from her pours,
          it rains, last
          sweats dropp
          wrapped within
          each other, twisted
          and teased from
          one end, to fuss
          with the other.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   62
          ) .............Sixteen

          Dear dad,


          &#913; &#947; &#945; &#960; &#951; &#964; &#941; &#956; &#960; &#945;
          &#956; &#960; &#940; , .....
          &#927; &#960; &#945; &#964; &#941; &#961; &#945; &#962; &#956; &#959;
          &#965; , &#964; &#959; &#954; &#940; &#957; &#949; &#953; &#945; &#956;
          &#945; &#961; &#964; &#943; &#945; &#960; &#955; &#942; &#961; &#969;
          &#962; &#964; &#945; &#960; &#961; &#940; &#947; &#956; &#945; &#964;
          &#945; .
          &#913; &#956; &#949; &#961; &#953; &#954; &#942; &#949; &#943; &#957;
          &#945; &#953; &#964; &#959; &#960; &#961; &#972; &#963; &#969; &#960;
          &#972; &#956; &#959; &#965; &#960; &#940; &#957; &#964; &#945; &#954;
          &#972; &#954; &#954; &#953; &#957; &#959; ,
          blushing.She &#954; &#940; &#957; &#949; &#953; &#960; &#949; &#961;
          &#953; &#963; &#963; &#972; &#964; &#949; &#961; &#945; &#945; &#960;
          &#972; &#964; &#959; &#957; &#945;
          &#948; &#949; &#943; &#964; &#949; ear.I &#956; &#959; &#965; &#947;
          &#961; &#940; &#968; &#949; &#964; &#949; &#945; &#965; &#964; &#972;
          &#947; &#953; &#945; &#964; &#943;
          &#963; &#945; &#962; &#941; &#954; &#945; &#957; &#949; &#957; &#945;
          &#965; &#960; &#959; &#963; &#967; &#949; &#952; &#974; , &#949; &#943;
          &#956; &#945; &#953; &#945; &#954; &#972; &#956; &#945;
          &#954; &#945; &#955; &#972; &#947; &#953; &#959; .
          &#913; &#957; &#954; &#945; &#953; &#959; &#955; &#972; &#947; &#959;
          &#962; &#947; &#953; &#945; &#964; &#959; &#957; &#959; &#960; &#959;
          &#943; &#959; &#956; &#972; &#957; &#959; &#964; &#959; &#963; &#973;
          &#957; &#959; &#955; &#959; &#964; &#969; &#957; &#949; &#954; &#960;
          &#945; &#953; &#948; &#949; &#965; &#964; &#953; &#954; &#974; &#957;
          &#947; &#953; &#945; &#964; &#951; &#957; &#945; &#957; &#964; &#955;
          &#943; &#945; &#946; &#949; &#957; &#950; &#943; &#957; &#951; &#962; ..?
          .. &#956; &#960; &#945; &#956; &#960; &#940; , &#964; &#959; &#954; &#940;
          &#957; &#949; &#953;
          &#916; &#949; &#957; &#958; &#941; &#961; &#969; , &#945; &#965; &#964;
          &#972; &#960; &#959; &#965; &#949; &#943; &#956; &#945; &#963; &#964;
          &#949; , &#949; &#943; &#957; &#945; &#953; &#972; &#955; &#945; &#941;
          &#957; &#945;
          &#945; &#964; &#973; &#967; &#951; &#956; &#945; ..; . &#924; &#960;
          &#945; &#956; &#960; &#940; &#964; &#953; &#957; &#945; &#954; &#940;
          &#957; &#969; ..;
          &#927; &#956; &#960; &#945; &#956; &#960; &#940; &#962; &#956; &#959;
          &#965; &#954; &#940; &#957; &#949; &#953; &#960; &#959; &#965; &#954;
          &#940; &#957; &#949; &#953; &#952; &#945; &#965; &#956; &#940; &#963;
          &#953; &#945;
          &#960; &#961; &#940; &#947; &#956; &#945; &#964; &#945; &#947; &#953;
          &#945; &#964; &#951; &#957; ..... &#932; &#953; &#957; &#945; &#954;
          &#940; &#957; &#969; ..;
          &#905; &#964; &#945; &#957; &#963; &#945; &#957; &#945; &#965; &#964;
          &#972; &#947; &#953; &#945; &#963; &#941; &#957; &#945; ....? ... &#956;
          &#945; &#956; &#940; ;

          Dear Dad,
www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                    63
          My father, she does sin full things.
          America is my face always red,
          blushing.She does more than to
          show my ear.I write this because
          you made me promise, I am still a
          good son.
          Though why all the education just
          to pump petrol..? ..Dad, she does
          not know, who we are, is it all an
          accident..? .Dad what do I do..?
          Dad she makes me do wonderful
          things to..her...What do I do..?
          Was it like this for you..? ...Mum..?

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   64
          ) .............some come again around a door

          Why this is not even they know when they
          come around a door.The look is never
          different when they come around a door maybe
          the mood has changed a little.
          I just don't know.When you come around a door
          how do you act.Some times I get real excited, if I
          do can you will you then come back again around a door?
          Times are strange, time grows short, again this fancy coat with tie
          around my throat, seen this way a different day to come around a door.
          The door is worn for all to see.you come around a door to be
          inside a frame unnamed a door is what you are to see, when you come around a
          door.Around this door you find a lite, to help you find your way about the door when
          lite has flown.Come around a door again, I ask you now again, this door you own.
          The morrow here to be unsaid, as was the night before this door you came around
          again.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                                  65
          ) .............when you knock

          I look at you, through the hole, it may as well
          be in my head..If I let you in again, what will
          change?
          All you want is what you want, saying nothing,
          asking me to tell you, always asking for my
          something.
          Is it mine or yours? ..It is mine I know, but I give
          it to you so easy, It is mine for the asking, but
          you take it, without asking, by asking of it to much.
          All it whants to do, is stay in one you, and rest.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                   66
          ) .............while i was away, you entered me..

          I slept, dreaming I was awake.
          Many were the strings, knotted, a purchase
          on which to climb.
          Looking down, I saw her watching me, from above.
          Her wings are light, but furry in flight, she glides around me.
          I climb over her, she floats past as I reach out, her wing
          speaks into my ear, without sound.
          The latter is a struggle, it sways, my mind is the wind that moves
          it, thinking it must, I make it stop.
          I reach her shoulder, she stops, placing my foot upon it, I bend
          backward, seeing her face in a smile.
          Knowing I need her teeth, she removes them, and places them
          in my mouth.Her new ones are better, I smile.
          she pulls her pouch open, and I climb out, looking at you, wondering what you are
          thinking, you just read on.
          The eagle in my pocket is her wanting out, I have to use both
          hands, to keep my pocket shut.Falling, I fall into your lap, where impressed by this feat
          you then wonder, what it is that I think, in
          the back of my mind, where no light ever shines, or gets in..
          Satisfied you climb back out with a big grin, wanting to ride inside
          me, over and over again..such is sin...come on in...

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                                   67
          ) .............wind, bird, grass) look in child

          Grass lay down,
          without feet upon the greens.
          Still dawn weeps,
          heavy head, hanging.
          Barefoot, prints, leaves wet dew,
          clingy is sticky, eyes mist.
          Sticks tickle moss, movements see
          two birds, a feather tips,
          early sun, walking west is to slowly.
          Bamboo bows, handles it knows,
          speaks not of commons sleep.
          Vine splayed, swept bricks red, rise
          as bird hums, Riddle in honey suckle.
          One child takes this out, as two blinks,
          Wind tries to dry, brown grass lost tears.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive             68
          ) .............you are evil

          Deception
          is a sin when perpetrated
          with grins to deceive
          I see those grins, I weep.
          Your agony, of laughter
          burst my heart, I forgive you.
          Is it really, that hard to deceive
          a dog in love with you?
          I lust in air, nothing there.
          Some lust on baldstone, the big one
          is deceptions of such magnitude
          leaves me green, ivyless.
          I envy such commonness, you disdain.
          I would fire you always again,
          I just don't know where, or how to begin.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive       69
          ) .............you, cut you?

          Because you are numb, i will play in
          my mind this single time, dreams for you.

          As I lay on the bed, dead on the inside'
          from the pain of being ignored, obsessed,
          abused, incest at best, belittled, stripped of
          pride, self respect.tears that never dry, asking
          why they put you here to see the pain, never
          asking much, returns..i see my juices, flowing
          free to clot, upon the floor, of no return, from hell.

          Now that I am are grown, abjured...from all the rest.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                    70
          ) ............all these, cuts!

          Nurse they do not like you either..
          They know..you do bad things to us..
          You make us sleep untruly is..you bend
          our limbs when we sleep/..happy is our dreams.
          The cuts you explore, you spread them more
          and our bodies weep twice, as much than before.
          Your face you do not even mask, so sure of our
          powerlessness, you stand in the way of our hopeful
          recovery in fullness.
          Skined of limb, through these thoughtless cuts you explore
          so happily, always on us, your tears are the wrong ones.
          You are a bad, Evil nurse woman, untie..me..now...

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                        71
          ) ............i dance, in sound, your mind..is music

          Powerless, I weave your very, your own web
          around your nouns, my verbs turned pro, into.
          Puzzled then, your Leaf, it shakes the wind.
          I sit on top, envy with green, your back, words.
          The first thing you pushed inword on me, was..your
          bottom that vibrates me, it's why I cry...You fav'es me
          now, in play, all day and night my pride..
          Fingerless, I paint a picture, on your bottom dweller, it lays
          in your refolded petals, thighs only come to life, when the
          cricket sleeps.
          At the end of the rainbow...I again, climb out of your pot.
          the gold is no longer one tasty nugget, but a mild of tast salty wave.
          We left the crown at the edge of your world, Oceanus.
          In it's one good purple claw is the bread upon which, it carries,
          your ripples of pleasure, consumed.....drinking butter..
          I await the sun, to fall, while my asparagus, harvests destinies
          swollowed beat, growing pink one spark at a time.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                    72
          ) ............i dunno aboot u gurl

          I had one good finger,
          left last night luv, the knot,
          it canna help to notice,
          You have eleven, now.
          Whut do i do, now, again
          i just canna tie me ties.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   73
          ) ............if, we had, aroyal purple

          Would you, even now
          in all your purple,
          stubbornness's
          agree, that mouths much
          so familiar and yes, you know
          should have checked the beggar
          at the door, of screams.
          Blackboard shrillness,
          breaks the chalk, a loud males voice
          is in the wrong,
          trembles exhumation to unfold,
          the hoped for dream.
          The liars island, holds the dying, walk upon the tears of sand,
          libeling the same cut tail, over and over again.
          While the sea gulls eat whats left.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                             74
          ) ............mental imagination is voices smelling your taste

          Thousands
          always look down into
          voids isms
          which are us our noise.
          Do you do more than
          watch potatoes
          fry in vats
          humorless void our mind.
          Izzy potted
          headless smiling lips do
          pull painful grimace
          in hollowed cheek-ness.
          Checks above
          you bounced one time
          to many on moneyed ham
          is spicy yum.
          You do, don't you
          try time and again city
          sexless untill
          you step in john is married.
          You mizz doe
          tentacle wrinkled bell winged
          crack your jar
          filled creams stilled of smell.
          Barks dog sweet
          never cowardly digging
          inside your mind
          fresh chews even it declines.
          So the little
          scared sparrow poo ts in your nest
          warm matted forest
          narrow rivers reed holding a small hat.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                            75
          ) ............need full salts

          I lay on the edge, of the ocean, i
          sleep as it washes, all over me.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   76
          ) ............so, ya...think you can tell

          By a back hand, flip, glib, lip.
          So i know, you know, i know, but really do you
          really know, how to work on a chain gang, unprovoked.
          Fake people screaming, bleeding, just inging, yes i know.
          Remember i said, remember today, bored unsatisfied,
          watching as life passed you by, offered choices to meet
          some special need, other than one, offers from moon
           once buffed, so clean.
          Poor dry cracked faces, make up gone wet, you lay in your
          room,
          puffing on others, from a vantage point, high you saw
          on some wicked show about males and how to clean them
           and serve them so rare.
          Wicked was the day the doctor called out lost names...Once
          bound never tied, to dreams surreal..
          I get on my hands and knees, to speak through the hole,
          where we live, where we meet every day for lunch.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                        77
          ) ............Twisted Sister

          Twisted is the way of words at war
          having none to many knickers.
          Pleasurable manta of ardor winds
          rooms bed wedged together lent.
          Blind white noise orifices fumes
          since first we bathed on the lake
          forgetfulness uncanny her shore.
          Grouping minds wanting treasured
          friends holding hands relenting not
          brother who is depf at nothing true
          faking every thing noise expected.
          Tied to the bed by a Sister Twisted.

                           )   it(s..is..magic
                                         you..know...

                                    ) it(s..written..in the..
                                   chalk..of..) it(....your...
                                                  twisted...face...

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                       78
          ) ...........dig on Dali

          Shapely shade dug me down,
          held by my head, I am
          short one, it giggles.
          Señor Dalí,
          dame tu mano, por favor, ahora vamos de la tierra,
          aquí es un paño de la cara, te ves bien.
          The eye, dipped mime on string, does sing us songs
          for rent.
          Clocks, heavy bent with time it dances well, while cows
          breath milk and drink from wells of wine.
          Rapid rivers swim in ears they pour, as rain falling more in dreams.
          Gently I am lowered into sleep, while Dali weeps.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                  79
          ) ...........every time she winks..i love her more...

          Her wrack of torture knows no bounds touch ends.
          In squealers, wank a stain upon the
          'art of pain she grins.
          Mania, biplanes, necrotic tics make
          me tremble much I fear in letting go.
          High, so high above the ground, she
          turns the handle one more time to
          feels the sinews come undone, is chic.
          Falling, falling...I keep up without her one
          approach, attached, her wrack is taught.
          Parachute in hand Is lent inside again.....I win one..wink..
          Queen she flies this, plane called newits art is swank..

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                          80
          ) ...........where i try, to grow...

          I eat the dirt, it taste like dirt
          it is not the dirt, i profess it's.
          It is not the sun, it is a smile
          it helps me realize, it is not.
          I smile my broken smile, one
          more crack, my face falls off.
          The sink, is full, my mask, falls
          washed in my tears, i smile.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   81
          ) ...........You quiver me watching you walk

          It is the worst
          when the heat
          is as hot
          as you.

          One lobes higher
          other sighs
          sings greetings
          cheeked.

          Sleeping winds
          hold a surprise
          grapes dont tell
          wines flavor.

          Smacking lips
          hold internally
          externally swaying
          reaching hands time
          lighting hearts
          is fire woods
          mounting cords of song.

          Does she see me
          see her watching me
          both do love watching?

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive          82
          ) ..........Always your darkness inside i see

          Young pretty girl
          old maid
          breasted large
          shriveled
          cave of honey
          dried prunes
          I see you every way the mirror does
          weepy knees to
          shake of fear
          knocking little fellas
          knowing i know what you are
          how it was you came here.
          Cutting, clawing, lying
          inside biting thrills
          weeping arms
          seeking to hide from me yourself
          you see.
          The Doctors says you are
          sickly
          like his daughter you
          helped to slaughter
          lead her you did
          innocent matters to you
          preferenced to know
          yet not cutting away your
          fat eyes that
          see every thing i said is true
          jumping from every bridge
          is mind to
          tremble in cowards breath
          death lays while you watch
          thrilled again a
          victim you to gain
          seeking baths
          forever in
          cleansing rituals none
          see yet i know
          squaring squatting faces
          flushed
          running pout this mouths
          rivers run from their ugly ears
          plugged with time
          gagged in sand
          hand clenching unclenching
          giving it all up to start again
          in you fresh breath
          no smell
          quivering mass my protoplasmic whip.

          Is It Poetry


www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive           83
          ) ..........gurl, ur not aboyz

          i only hate him, hand in his,
          when we stand in the mirror
          necked, invisibility, macho
          is his lame, boyz, fuzzy, peachy.
          looks at you, it pokes me,
          in my bony ribs, ur nothing luv es
          but a big round pink, doink there,
          saintly so fearlessly, he stutters to me,
          tear of fury, trickles to scold him.
          he stands there in all his blushes,
          his woody looks, leafy likes is David
          new born turtle, pales, if it cries,
          the turtle hides, your handsoms, i am
          thinking away, from his eyes, again
          lest mine give him away, is aboyz...

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive       84
          ) ..........How May I Best Serve You

          You are
          my favorite customer
          deceiving lips
          cannot be pleased
          if you deny the thrush of truth
          inside of you
          Black or white van goths Dali
          camels time
          riding trolleys followed you.

          Blazing trails
          brought home
          to village city squares of block
          walking bye hellos door I knock
          a notched pickled food
          thats new to you
          inside it always draws is picture of a face
          thats always their in you..

          Squeamish portrait
          of a hand
          cupped so a mind
          eyes to tear
          the paint from all the walls
          calling loud
          I hear you say
          my canvas blanked
          from all the days
          I anguished thinking nothing new
          could ever come my way
          yet it is was you...

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive         85
          ) ..........night stutters

          I lay on top of the bed, quilt clenched tight
          knuckled white paler in face, to wait.
          I wait every nite, my nites run into a mile
          measured backward into me.
          I know I am the last inch, the best inch, the
          inch that tastes the best.
          I also know that by now, every inch of that
          mile has been uncovered, to look while I
          sleep.
          I hear a voice, never the same, it paces my
          sleep, slowing it down, then I leap...
          Into one more day of stuttering in wait, it
          takes my breath away, this wait, for the nite
          to finish the last inch it's retreat...into.........
          I would never harm it, it keeps me safe....

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                  86
          ) ..........pink is her turtle

          Does not making you happy, with a snappier pink,
          make you excited? Snap, snap...your lips did they...purse
          this word, or discard it...?
          Who would not die, to scream her oinks all there life,
          do you fear, will these simple words,
          , requested...now get me arrested...
          New clean words, washed free, over and over again.
          Do they really, sound quite like the others, in your mind..?
          Blush me, I will blush you to death, i live for your blush.
          your blush drowns me, in seas of pink, that make you oink.
          Did you take all my blush?
          Please wait, It for you, will make oceans more.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                          87
          ) ..........pretty pink puddle

          Nature gave you great gifts
          playful pretty pink blue eyes
          fondly a handsom tall blond.

          Man trap
          scent as sweet
          defies evil tower
          pink lounged
          tip.
          Flashes deadly smile
          I fell for this check
          I wrote
          my bread.
          Killer
          her snapping turtle
          belongs in a zoo
          killing power
          much to used
          abused
          my power.
          Clamped is vice
          tramping
          buttered yams melts
          toast
          preserved every
          strawberry
          my face stays stained
          planting new seed.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   88
          ) ..........with you, it's just, i shudder, you faint

          Touch me i
          crumple
          quivering
          your breath
          makes me
          blind form
          in heats cold
          rising skinbumps
          my ear is on fire
          next to you
          in sleep
          the ocean
          you filled
          from my one little
          river
          you keep
          selfishly
          to drink from when alone.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                   89
          ) ..........You Don't Cheat On Him Because

          He washes dishes
          he feeds the kids
          he gives you a bath
          eyes closed
          he cooks, he pours you wine
          he makes sure you keep all of your
          appointments on time
          he is the banker
          he walks the dog
          he eats your fish
          he walked into your eyes wide open
          he makes sure you are clean clean clean
          that you always fit into your jeans
          he takes the children to the dentist
          and the doctors while shopping
          He never misses a pebble you drop
          you would kill for someone like him
          sane enough to admit it to crazy to deny it
          you co-opted him his price was the cheapest in town.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                  90
          ) .........At The Top

          I look about even clouds are rugs now
          where the bottom is pale of face
          looking up to a peak unseen
          how did -You- put me there
          trembling actions unthought
          thinking: : :
          : last will: > saying I'm sorry help<
          the bottom is tossed with the is eye
          that wont cry
          my tears are hail on
          her face
          bullet proof
          under the windshield of wealth
          driving to the bank
          large insurance check in hand
          thinking
          how wonderful men are in the world..
          Inviting every ones daughter to sundowns party....

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                91
          ) .........Confess..To Me..do it..for...you

          I cannot begin to described all the
          things you confessed to me
          what your dad did to you how he
          went away with another mum.
          You with only mum her drinking the
          crazy things she does
          leaving you locked in your room
          only jars to pee in I know it was awkward
          jars with small tops..sorry...
          You and your strange brother his goat
          you told me about
          you need to tell some one other than me..
          You not even...well...and nine mothers..your
          real mum///a prostitute
          having to by force become addicted to heroin
          to do the things to keep a dream that was never
          alive except when it was you she had so long ago..
          You your friends mother..ashamed being not a she
          and having to endure it afraid your friends will find
          out a diffrent kind of pride one never mentioned
          You all of you and the others your confessions
          brought to light some of which some small comfort
          in knowing we know now you know your confessions
          can and do make you free to...tell...me the rest..of
          your stories....unashamed..
          maybe not proud..yet a voice..that hears in the dark...

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                     92
          ) .........DeadWood..

          It is not like t.v.
          Femininity, left them long ago.
          They work with wood, it is not soft.
          It is cured by men, in your soft parts.
          The more you scream,
          the more they soften the wood.
          Defrocked, your wool is bleached.
          Softness is not an impression left in bars that steal
          your breath, thighs depressed by weight
          oppressed in nightmares spread open.
          The mouth once yours is not now to speak from
          it harbors dreads new fear, dead seed forever spilled
          inside to grow, more of them
          once like your self...
          One day spent, ten thousand to grow, into wood
          deadwood so much harder than you
          soft as pulp.........................................................................

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                                   93
          ) .........dear poetess, the huntress

          I know you are probably male, so i know,
          u know, i have issues with males..
          Sometimes i have issues with females to.
          I know you know what is going where, and to whom,
          i dedicate on you not.
          Nothing is missed or mixed from he, to she, me to you, her or I.
          They live in Anthea's world.
          I have done a couple of things nothing Evil, or bad.
          I told two females to shut up and i think i pushed one down
          i was just taring to flirt, them into confessing, to you about closing doors.
          One female wants you to kill me, i know you could, she just
          can't wraps her mind around a good fl ave that is you..wink..
          I know yes, it is hard getting past the lust to the wrapper, some
          are just pixie chicks long skinny sticks filled with colored sugar..
          Well, you know now, yes my confessions are boring,
          what about you and yours...? ...Please hurry me along to you.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                           94
          ) .........'I Died, 'a')       Special('death'for...U....

          ) It(was not easy, on you
          watching me watch over
          you.
          Tenderly holding my eye's
          as you placed them in my
          palms.
          No strings, attached optimally
          speaking
          my heart was still yours..for
          you to touch...
          Surgery was not a choice
          how you persuaded the Doctor
          to bypass my pulmonary vein
          for your esophagus was never
          in the consent form
          to be fertilized
          I sighed in my sleep
          this is why I suspect you are the
          Queen on the hill
          I look down your belly swells from
          the Nile's red landscape, my birth.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                       95
          ) .........i quiver when you talk

          I am helpless in your hand,
          honey in a mouth that knows only love.
          I shake so when touched by
          the air that passes by me when in it's
          breath you walked.
          I brush you and the shock of your electric eyes
          stun me
          I lay in your hair for warmth
          it rolls over me as waves knowing the breath of angels.
          I sleep in the comfort of your breast to signal
          that you are safe in my
          sleep of hopes faith with you.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                     96
          ) ........she is more beautiful than Dali's, wife

          I told you, I only flirted with them, you said,
          I would have, done more if I could.
          I said, you are wacked...
          When I woke up, there were ten long rose
          stems, between my fingers and toes.
          You have to tell her I was only talking, please
          she makes Dali look normal...

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive               97
          ) .......amark aface atear

          i wont tell u my name,
          u see me every day the same, crying.
          mine this face, more than researched
          some blotted, parchment of testament's,
          color of pain.
          each eruption leaves me scarred, u see
          only my fear, of rejection by you.
          where u live, in ur mirror, of nights to come
          pleasure, kisses on ur lips, ur roses taped, is
          tasted two's, mine is futures past, always now.
          each hill leaks, each day more, never less, u is
          even now in disgusts, looks away, i canna even
          touch my face, this monster face of shame.
          i run in as to nag, screaming inside, this in my
          hand, magnifier, i clutch, as this pimple on my
          bridge, between my beautiful eyes, gets bigger.
          He will see it, under this blush, what if he kisses...it

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                      98
          ) .......Dali mixed Picasso Women

          Flames out her nose
          lasers, guide her eyes.
          Her twin peaks are off the canvas, to bend trickles
          of milk, holes is cup leaking mouths.
          Left nostril reaches around, to guide a smell of transgression
          Tweed saw edged teeth gnawed off part you need.
          Right nostril dripps cheese to blue to be cobalt, leaves in salad
          pink, rides wave on backs of two salamanders
          she raised from his head.
          Her hand slaps the flap to his door, when ever it can...
          Always inside sleeps happy voice, seeking cheaper paint.
          Screaming at dogs mounting cats licking lost mouse,

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                               99
          ) .......The confessions just pour in

          I laugh, I almost cry, some of these
          be lying swank hoe's wearen yo Dare's......wit a heart
          the one with three toes the lawn more cut off..
          two with a love of bottles twist top, dancing with doc...
          with his X-ray vision...I bet..
          You with poor mum, both bets removed, now bendable clear jelly
          does rest in the middle oohhhh man..wear does it plop...oh my..?
          Dad the butcher, scary big fella..honest as Abeu..customers do hassle..gives free meat
          to the ladies in need...says daughter.
          Poor little, never was I to slip like that, with the tip of my finger
          and give all of you free desert...every day...
          send those confusions my way..
          .get even..get harder..don't barter....nice starter..

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                                100
          ) ....because of you..I..forever..drink..of...it

          Milk I live only to drink your milk
          milk of honey, I love, milk
          milk on skin, dripping milk
          milk from the tip, leaking milk
          milk flowing rivers, of milk
          milk of life, lives saved, by milk
          milk hungered, conquered, by milk
          milking you, you milking me, dying in milk
          ...))    it(s..more than..just..milk..) it(s..good..from.a.bone to

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                101
          ) ....Her Stomach..Is..like..Ice...(

          Lurid dark crying clouds
          fouled the snow
          frigid soul inside of you
          Howling singing wind is laying foul
          thinking man alights
          inside to know.
          Well of warmth that washed away last year
          I fear the skin upon to lay
          would freeze my boat
          Heart of you I say is hearth
          white pure driven snow to calm
          and warm my mind
          turn aside your storm I must not fear to find.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive            102
          ) ....I Am The Darkness That You Fear...(

          It begins with my drifting inward
          letting go of the dirty little secrets
          sucked from my head his thought
          telling him where to begin I will not
          ever think of an ending for him.
          I know that he knows that I know
          he knows I've been thinking.
          It is not to cold nor warm just right
          I feel something I know what I wish
          it was but it's not it's the other
          thing I dread even more.
          I cannot move..lifeless I lay there awake
          smelling something not me
          shaking panting no one hears my breath but he.
          My toes feel wet something rough it is my dirty
          little secret in a human form still asleep.
          Weeping tears of air in heated thought I panic
          hoping it will hurry so I can awaken
          making him do it again....) it(s..
          ...noughty..yet..nice...) it(s..spice
          ..hot to trot...) it(..is you..) it(s..
          Fearing the darkness you know that I am.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive             103
          ) ....pretty pink oysters

          Shell of defenselessness
          i rip it brutally
          open
          tearing the soft oink flesh
          steamy tendrils whisper
          sweetly
          i could not wait
          to clutch it withinheld in
          it's meaty muscle of sweetness
          held tartly shut
          clenched against me
          in vein this blood
          i drink
          cutting with teeth desire is
          hungers appetite
          pushing to pull at the edges
          as it's now beaton
          sound a soft plop gives
          way to my sucking mouth
          inflamed full pink stomach
          pumped
          into mine...

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   104
          ) ...back to what got me here...(

          It was'nt that i was blind and you
          did things you should not have
          Over looking without eyes to see
          your dirty little secret within.
          Questions every one thinks to ask
          wishing they were me having a
          moment in you to reflect that we
          are free to rob the minds of each
          other again again and again.....
          ..remember I know your secret..
          when you get over it you will come back
          ......sharing more and more...
          ...it is safe with me...so talk.....) it(s
          ......our shame...) it(s..never ending
          ......) it(..is........on your lips..
          ............to but speak.........
          ...about your secret deep within....

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive        105
          ) ...he fell through the floor..to

          This is a bad day for me, for you I am happy.
          My head has not hurt this much in a long,
          long time.
          I am nearly blind from the pain.
          It seems this train I picked to ride upon, has no name.
          The conductor wears black, he also
          wears some kind of parachute.
          He knows my name, you don't he does.
          He never even tried, we come to him without invitation,
          he says, roses red roses, seem to help my mind forget,
          though this seems not quit right.
          My glasses this day have only one arm, the right lens
          hugs my eye, I read through tears,
          like the conductor unasked.
          Many are here, they have no faces,
          I called out some ears just seemed to vanish,
          as if they did not belong.
          I thought there had to be some kind of mistake, I tried to
          point this out, the conductor simply handed me the parachute
          and fell through the floor.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                          106
          ) ..She.is the..Lion...I Wished..for..(

          Laying in the grass next to her
          getting whupped by her tail.
          Even the fays flee the sheen
          heat oven to speak out loud.
          Onlooking crowd crawling in
          hyenas laugh skin does crawl.
          Bawling of cafe knows not fate
          I roar getting whupped by her tails
          pleasure of death her eye watching.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive     107
          ) it(just ain't natural) stimulus(..is) it(

          Life cannot go through you apologizing
          for your thoughts
          can world inside you trade martin
          for a skylark and one cluck
          from a chicken who's beak fell off...?
          Few are the creatures on our great blue orb
          that can copulate with them selves
          just because you killed a politician's rose bush
          doesn't mean you can...oh yea!
          here is new politician a check for fifty scents
          three turtles..remember
          you have to make it look natural...and...
          no artificial stimulus packages needs can apply..
          Lastly...in politics...
          it's not the size of the donkey or elephant
          it is the size of the mouse
          and the stick that beats your wanker eats your
          cheese and tells you it was just a bad dream......

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                108
          *Destined* For* Fate* Ant 2

          Thinking you know what lays
          ahead of you the ant did'nt
          why would you
          unless you killed the ant
          Great was the intellect
          traped in the head of
          that pin
          look in the mirror and
          think that again.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   109
          ____I_Am_A_Simple_Man__I_Am_A_Man____

          ________I am neither young nor old I am a man______________

          I am reseliant I have lain in winds that bend
          my soul break what is superior yet I remain.

          Risking what is me what is mine where I lay
          asking no praise none to say I am man.
          Brushing her hair please down on my knees
          to say soft is the hand on me to lay I am man.

          Harvesting risk to myself blooding arms and hands
          I am a man I do what I please go where I want and
          with you I sleep say what you want I am here to please.

          I can say please yes mam where do you want it
          Check in to call hold you real tight I am your man
          I am he standing tall fall if you dare I will be there
          to catch you.

          Yes to the no things forget about bad things simple
          and straight shoot from the hip say what I mean
          jump through your hoops if it will get me on the
          inside of you I am your man.

          Booze very little not enough to derail my train from
          your side to abide in all that you do I am your man
          through and through-finish this latter-

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                         110
          ~*****Endless Path I Tread~

          Sleeping never lies my head to roam
          forever pillow soft
          in you.

          Leaving path dare tread your heart in
          trust my hand am most kind
          would care.

          Every dawn soft pettals moan a fragrent
          scent of she, her
          pollen teased.

          Pleased is she walked my way heard
          words that said savored such
          sweet breath she
          gifted me.

          Entered hall velvet soothed folded mind
          sparks will fly calling
          out my name.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive     111
          ~~ for you to ~~

          I am weak lost in cups so hidden
          within boundaries of my perimeter.

          Soft endangered undulating waves
          islands unto them selves clasping.

          Cool air unfairly alluring enchanted
          even samples she denies regularly.

          Madness crafted crazed is hidden
          until she relents guides mouth them.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   112
          ~~&#1051; &#1072; &#1074; &#1051; &#1072; &#1090; &#1074; &#1080;
          &#1080; &#1074; Ugly v Beauty
          Neighbor hateful
          brings to court defile the tree
          upon your land they point an eye...
          Across this world this tree is known....
          wisp of beauty elegance in thee
          is made of grace...tree
          in trust with acre heart uncommon...
          so unknown...
          Judge of law thus brought before
          this question to decide....
          ever more..
          Neighbor to the Judge points out..
          mean and black of soul is she
          to coal...
          branch of tree hangs
          leavened over fence...
          carved in stone.... the law does read...
          prune it from my sight it needs...
          my right I so impose to thee...
          Armor all the land can't see...
          spoken soft by you....
          Beauty pruned forever goes.. all know...
          golden is its sight removed from all...
          Twelve.hundred years of wisdom
          gone as dust......
          Judge has wisdom equal to...
          Sight of beauty's soul..
          rights the heart in right of tree...
          What next path is brought to you...
          decide....

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                          113
          ~~&#927; &#953; &#947; &#965; &#957; &#945; &#943; &#954; &#949;
          &#962; &#948; &#953; &#945; &#946; &#940; &#950; &#959; &#965;
          &#913; &#954; &#945; &#955; &#973; &#964; &#959; &#964; &#945;
          &#957;&#965; &#964; &#959; &#943; don' &#964;&#949; &#961; &#941;
          &#961; &#967; &#949; &#964; &#945; &#953; &#954; &#945; &#952; &#972;
          &#955; &#959; &#965; &#949; &#958; &#965; &#960; &#957; &#974; &#964;
          &#949; &#961; &#959; &#962; .
          &#916; &#953; &#945; &#946; &#940; &#963; &#964; &#949; , evry &#960;
          &#961; &#940; &#947; &#956; &#945; , fron &#951; &#960; &#955; &#940;
          &#964; &#951; .
          &#924; &#951; &#957; &#964; &#959; &#948; &#959; &#954; &#953; &#956;
          &#940; &#963; &#964; &#949; &#960; &#940; &#957; &#964; &#945; &#963;
          &#964; &#959; &#963; &#960; &#943; &#964; &#953; , &#940; &#963; &#964;
          &#949; &#947; &#959; &#953; .
          &#904; &#967; &#959; &#965; &#957; &#972; &#955; &#949; &#962; &#964;
          &#953; &#962; &#964; &#959; &#961; &#960; &#943; &#955; &#949; &#962; ,
          &#948; &#959; &#961; &#940; &#963; &#964; &#959; &#965; &#962; &#952;
          &#940; &#956; &#957; &#959; &#965; &#962; .
          &#917; &#943; &#957; &#945; &#953; &#956; &#945; &#955; &#945; &#954;
          &#942; , &#969; &#962; &#942; &#955; &#953; &#959; &#960; &#961; &#969;
          &#953; &#957; &#959; &#973; .
          &#915; &#955; &#965; &#954; &#940; blosoms,
          &#954; &#955; &#943; &#963; &#951; &#945; &#960; &#972; &#956; &#949;
          &#956; &#973; &#964; &#951; &#949; &#960; &#940; &#957; &#969; &#963;
          &#964; &#959; &#958; &#973; &#960; &#957; &#951; &#956; &#945; .
          &#928; &#945; &#961; &#945; &#954; &#945; &#955; &#974; &#960; &#945;
          &#961; &#940; &#947; &#949; &#964; &#949; , &#960; &#945; &#961; &#952;
          &#941; &#957; &#945; Mary, &#954; &#940; &#957; &#949; &#953; &#949;
          &#966; &#949; &#948; &#961; &#953; &#954; &#972; &#964; &#951; &#962;
          &#949; &#947; &#974; &#960; &#949; &#961; &#953; &#963; &#963; &#972;
          &#964; &#949; &#961; &#959; .
          &#928; &#940; &#955; &#953; .

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                     114
          ~~~dad~

          Oh merciful
          scallywag my
          dad,
          that was your fault
          come down and
          bless one ant, it is
          needing it..The
          queen is tries to
          eat me in one bite..

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   115
          ~~~dad~~thanks~again

          It is thirteen years today
          since you sent me on the
          home depot mission
          gone only twenty minutes
          well thanks for not shooting
          me when you turned that
          shotgun on your self it was hard
          getting the Catholic priest
          to give you mass
          but you are situated proper now
          not burning hot inside the box as you thought.
          Thanks for your car, condo, stocks, bonds, most of
          all thanks for paying off those credit cards before.
          I grew up to be just like you....well almost.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                  116
          ~~~good~~coffee

          Does not come from my bean
          if its redundantly used.
          My beans are special to, your
          beans are sweet to,
          not bitter.
          So when one falls please have
          a care, this java works
          in you.
          Yes you are the one,
          special you,
          yes you.
          Let's help keep the worlds beans,
          in your cup.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   117
          ~~~i~saw~us ~see~

          Impression inparted not of wonder always knew
          such beauty of being the ground beneeth
          your feet.
          Sturdy staunch the living water flowing seeing
          path it travels cup it's chalice without malice
          keep it free.
          Thoughts of you, yes you is it soul magic beauty
          roots run deep in your casle i am mote.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive              118
          ~~~It Is You~~~~

          Grounded heart on fire of winter
          rose I grew in you.
          Flame to passion in spending
          life 2 knew.
          Safe in arms protection lite
          to harbor storms.
          Fashion boots a bow I crop
          we grew.
          Granting beauty softly slidding
          lashes wave.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   119
          ~~~small~~simple~suicide~~

          dad i await your call to tell me
          to throw myself under your bus.
          will it be quick or will it hurt a lot
          mellon so small what if it misses

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive    120
          ~~~snivel~its~~

          ) it(snot of my making the quivering Quaker in quaking the shaker that's
          you, the faster in faking the shaker your maker will quiver the shaker in you, so shake
          in the chair that the quivering Quaker has set out for you to shake, just stop shaking
          the maker, and quiver the fakers right out of their shoes.


          inspired by: Linda
          age: 28
          merry christmas
          ~23~12~2008

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                                 121
          ~~~snivel~lits~`do~snivel`~off~~~

          i dripp things when you
          make me cry
          i am dripping now, why?
          so i talk to much you never
          offered me a cup of used
          coffee.
          some times your left overs
          just drivel me to the point
          i just want to snivel all over
          you to but i don't i just chug.
          you in the foreign countries
          yes Russia cold vodka you
          snivel all the time even when
          it's not cold you drink vodka.
          yes others to you women girls
          talk to me make me hurt rush
          off to write your good will it's
          welfare mission like i have no
          feelings if they are not reported
          when you tell me to check in or
          else you abuse me some more.
          you, you say- you are in the red
          crost busting me up just to hear
          me snivel to you big bad you is.
          my snivel lits do snivel off when
          you are mean crass and meanies.
          what will you do to me next? ....

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   122
          ~~~snivel~lits~~of~

          Cheese as you leave some skin in the bed
          I mix it with curds your way.
          Blemished sight of bacteria holds them
          in the arms of mold a little longer.
          Lacking recirculation you grab the last
          piece of newspaper hoping as the
          veins go varicose ageing more to taste.
          The light allows you to bath in a conscious
          fragrance that tears all the tasters.
          Finally of love you speak when leaving out
          the other door unlit.
          .....) it(s..just a snack...) it (..eludes..us...

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive               123
          ~~~snivel~please~~

          please just dont hurt me anymore
          i promise to listen to you tell me
          again of the horrible things you
          and your brothers did to me i
          never told any one please the
          cuts will heal the other bruises
          are fading my rear may take a
          few months the truncheon was
          to big can i have some more
          pain medicine please, please
          stop but god dont ever quit.
          ~~~~~LOVING ME~~~~~

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   124
          ~~~sniveling~~the director flowing free

          Flowing cold from finger tips, so mind does
          quell, I'm bringing eyes so green,
          from deep in you.
          Laughing lights glitter flash, from sky so bright,
          blinded still of truth,
          I may be few.
          Outside inside cheese from cloth like wine, try
          most sweet upon the tounge can't
          help but bring a dropp
          of blood from you.
          Windows clean see my soul, the sill is clear
          hear my feet, they seek a place to
          hide inside of you.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                125
          ~~~sooofftly~old ~in~ grace~~~~

          Waiting to die in a roach motel watching
          to many italian movies thinking about
          what was or might have been.
          Personally I hope it was
          was so you can leave me all of your money
          or at least one of
          your bordellos

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive       126
          ~~->-This is >-pink-<the Poem-<-(

          Will one day have very
          important things for you..
          to see...to read......
          deadly information, a
          combination of all you
          want, numbers and things.....
          No fake heart attacks...
          Bodies and blinggg....at
          mylistings@excite dot me
          vote 1 for yes vote 2 for no,
          no one will see...you vote..
          some times just getting to
          ten is the hard part..r u a 10..
          Then step right in be my friend.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   127
          ~~Ashfelt Rim of Wind~~~

          Green panties,
          green tits, green milk.
          green eyes,
          green, greeen, green..
          Green is the rim packed,
          around pink instead...?

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   128
          ~~at~least~

          i received a proper shower..: >) it(s never over..: >)

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                    129
          ~~birds flying ~~

          Fields of birds are gone, fumes of exhaust surround me.
          I cannot see your window, the young are around me.
          My door is left open, the sun grows cooler.
          No wine to comfort me, I go to bed earlier.

          My eyes water, thinking of you now gone.
          Passion of flame, steel this concrete famed.
          Gone are the arteries, now mud remains.
          Bulldozers not of life, forsake the young and bury the old.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                         130
          ~~children~~

          quit digging you are messing
          up the roses that i have for
          she whoms name cannot
          flow from my lips
          you have left your little
          diggy marks every where.
          now who may i ask is
          going to undiggy your diggys
          just let me know and i will
          give you a tour in the
          everly so colorful Moulin Rouge.
          no telling where that
          old dog burried the bone
          any way..smart that i
          know that you are..words as
          silk the arm never knowing
          where the gentle caress
          starts or wear its going
          flowing growing the
          mystery of you in
          LOVE..) it(s you

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   131
          ~~crown ~of ~tiaera~

          Dear, lovinly tiaera

          I am aware that after the penalty at the football game where Mr.zebra man peniesised
          me the sixinches our team did not get the first down and so lost.I would not myself
          consider the loss of sixinches to be an ignisifigant thing but my tiaera you being a
          materialist i can understand swapping johns though if you catch an std dont come
          running to me calling your self saint clause cause you are not.You are sitting there
          drinking and probably running the pink knickers you received for our anusvesery
          dribbling you are thinking you are a basketball player well if you do not respond to this
          letter i will go through with the detachment..oh yes.i nearly forgot..last night you left
          your clitoris on the night stand so i put it in a jar in the freezer with your
          poems....Lovily loven you, ,) it(s first and goal...: : >) it(..:

          ) it(s about groceries: : >)

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                                   132
          ~~diggy~~diggy

          O four eyed wonder who sleeps with one eye
          shut the sapient that lives within listens
          with three which leaves...) it(s there just diggy dig
          but cover your holes after all..: >) it(s the house
          that) it(built no resale value with holes
          in back yard...: >) it(s life..: }: >) it(...

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                   133
          ~~Discharged Mashed Potatoes

          Muse this skinny wallet laying untouched!
          Creamy whiteness butter gently flows?
          Penury friendly mindless yes so poor
          potatoe flakes of snow outside your door.

          Love lies starving heartless pumping
          having feelings numb for lack of tasting
          rivers plowing fields.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive       134
          ~~for you~~specifically~~

          Children from the Amazon they call
          your name at night when
          sleep they seek.
          Rubber Bands the minds so deep they
          drink the well of words from
          you now cry.
          Faith and comfort with your parting smile
          your face thier name upon
          your lips.
          Teacher that I know you are the land is wide
          the river roams these souls you hold are
          bold en joys of light.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive          135
          ~~gracefull~father~~of~tvs~house~~~

          May the blessed
          prostate that
          has not
          worked
          in years
          miraculously recover
          and gush on your salty
          noodles.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   136
          ~~i had an accident~~

          My life for that day
          done over
          rancid bacon
          breakfast
          late
          lunch meeting
          was she
          so so so hot
          knowing I loved
          milk
          her excitement
          eye blinked gushing
          she understood: : :)
          cheeks clamped
          she had days
          that went over well fronted
          used bacon flowing from my back.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   137
          ~~i~do~

          miss you so much i know we are both crazy
          thats why we are still beating
          around the bush: listen just come home and
          like i said yesterday one aday and if you
          need a little salad i can do two and you to.: >)
          noisy bleets git oweta my trash~member lovely) it(s going
          to have you in the end..anyway~~

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                       138
          ~~if~~

          If I could be your long lost love who is not
          how would you bring me back?
          If I could be in your dreams at night
          of the words you speak,
          what would they say?
          If the pain of joy slams your heart
          stuttered still, this night, how high
          would you bank the fire?
          If you find me at the threshold of your hand,
          would you let me go again?
          Given another life to do over again
          would you sail with me?

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive           139
          ~~o.k.~~~

          I will do it........when I fallasleep..

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive     140
          ~~of wenching~~

          O quivering Porty lip bitten in heat
          none see but I bit it not knowing if
          the smouldering blood should have
          tightened the fire to new flames.
          You were not enough cast down
          spent used up a pile of trash with
          an outstretched hand pleading monsieur monsieur offering to me your sister.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                         141
          ~~oh it feels so good~~

          To finally fall asleep..) it(s..a trick.
          and some bought) it(..

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive      142
          ~~pauls~wittle~frog~~

          searching for wiggly button of glee from our mail
          the tad pole for all under adult supper vision can
          sextouple in size to flame thier popularity in times
          of recession little help for the blind who can't ever
          seem to find some room from a frog in their heart
          to hop for a child who needs a friend every day.



          st pete times 23~12~2008
          for you paul r.thanks.c.e.mcl~d.a.c.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                   143
          ~~she knows~~

          It is just a small
          fabuoderous
          color of
          hickory barbeque
          she hardly
          noticed at all
          it was such a
          public display
          minor
          call of the wild
          she did
          as she said
          end up
          getting
          lumped over the front.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   144
          ~~snivel of trust~~

          Frailty cannot wait as the passion stores her grain
          storms have farms visited to lay claim fruits in silo.

          Bare is your crop it is a bole weevil it eats the sod
          whistling dixie to each beat of your drum on the run.

          Stand never to still in nights claiming it your passion
          noodle Yankee doodles singing will flee from ur palm.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                     145
          ~~snivel~i am being~snivel-snivel~abused!

          I say nothing, I love it, you know I do.
          When I say stop, you had better not quit it.
          My other eye is fresh, pop it one time..
          Yea, like that comma, do it again.
          It is OK...really.
          Just don't stop, I'm serious...
          Officer, officer..she went in the opposite correction.
          He just wont squeal..He ate our last rat.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                    146
          ~~ssoofffttly~ tiaera~

          Dearest Tiaera,

          Forever has passed since yesterdays
          knickers were lost so disgracefully in
          the void of space by Uranus.
          Blessed is the Hubble telescope that
          allowed me to find them and return
          them unsoiled to your cheeks.
          Your deliousious expletives fall not
          on deaf ears, come home to dad
          to the house that)     It(built.
          which is yours to dwell.
          Munificent gardens of lush fruit
          long forbidden to most
          still awaits.
          Here in the home that is yours.

          Lovenly)         it(s never going to stop amazing you.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                    147
          ~~unwrapped~

          The unwrapped box no surprise does
          it hold to me
          wrapping diverts true nature of the
          queens whims..
          Words are as honey streets paved
          with money is gleaned
          from her soul
          within.
          True hearts inside cannot disguise the
          beauty layed in this beast
          we seemingly need.
          Harsh is the word when the wise all
          but know loves reversed meaning
          from the first word if not on
          deaf ears it grows.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive    148
          ~~waiting~~unwrapped~

          Death can come at any time O foolish man
          why do you court it?
          Well seeing as I have two voices in my head
          while we Waite for it from the sky we can
          talk.O.K....right o.
          Through the bipolar fields of heaven I tr ed
          I crave the sun I crave wiggle wiggle wiggle
          an externally induced stroke heavenly bliss
          than the flaking away of a dandruff ed soul..

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive           149
          ~~whimper~~

          musta of been
          the tart i had at breakfast.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   150
          ~~wiggle wiggle ~even pigs

          Wear twigs of
          oink.
          likened
          to some wing
          brought
          home to you.
          Muddy hoveled breath
          is spent from ovens
          vein of years.
          Leeky fauset steaming pearl
          sum clam you ate.
          Walking tail and tail your date is always late.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive             151
          ~~words~of~you~maybe~

          fill my mind with
          the joy of knowing
          you allow me to
          filter into your very
          being soaking up
          the essence that
          is you knowing
          that since birth
          we
          having never
          been separate
          are
          and all ways
          have been
          joined
          at the hips.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   152
          ~~your tasty burp~~

          Living in the toast of now, yesterdays
          bread of the moment still on my
          tongue.
          Drinking the guzzles that droop from your
          lips in needles time may we stay immortally.
          Flippant oyster never cooled she tasted
          your salt and was bottled for life.
          All of these joys in breath and taste may they
          roll forward into my stomach and stay.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive            153
          ~Basketballs~

          Round large and orange bouncing as do people sometimes
          directions defiantly are needed
          but none are supplied.
          Coordination is a must eye to basket
          is as pure of an art
          one will find.
          Love of the basket just grows by leaps and bounds.
          .

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                    154
          ~'dad) , _

          The ant's are all female.
          Wait till i sleep and go
          in my ears, to get all my
          crumbs, leaving no grey
          for me.I pray for them all.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   155
          ~dad~

          Haiku Life with you



          ~Even against hope
          ~~ God grants gifts
          ~~~ Often to me

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   156
          ~dad~~

          I know you see me up there,
          yes, I know, you are laughing.
          The ants are bad, they crawl
          through my head, walking up-
          side down in my brain, she is
          sending them, for revenge it
          is still all your fault, laughing.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   157
          ~diggy~dig~dig(\*-*/)

          They are not yours, sadly I smile
          without sunrise, fruits to many in.
          Sizes, twenty-eight thru thirty six.
          All winked in, with your smiles? ..I
          think you, run afoul of many others.
          Remember to) smile(god loves you.
          He is the only one who still does..) it(
          on you, by now lightning hits your toes.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive      158
          ~dirty`..little.` ~secret ~thoughts~

          Sleeping hands furrowing deeply
          misty world denied to long
          whimpering upper lip
          studded with a single dropp
          of dew that tastes of salt
          The intrusion is sudden violent
          just as quickly as it's in it is out
          thoughts I can't control I
          have long since quit trying it is easier
          when sleep comes by stealth violating
          hearts
          filling my mind with these
          your dirty little
          secrets....) it(s..you who ask
          ..........knowing who you are..) it(s...
          .....more comfortable this way...) it(s...OK
          ....guilt will come..like a thief...
          ......leaving..you....exposed....
          to hands unknown but to you denuded
          pale gasping breathless ironed out
          fleeing back to you rolling eyes with heavens
          gate locked into
          bearded white he receives your departing soul
          alive on arrival repeating over and over
          dirty little secret thoughts of us trapped eternally.
          ..........................) it(s..no..longer
          ..................................controle.biz..) it(>.<) it(s..you

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                 159
          ~does~she~know~

          That he is having her baby..) it(s the other way around..: >)

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                           160
          ~here~is~more~even~better~

          you are laying on your back hypnotized
          (dont ask that) you have laid like this for
          all of eternity patiently waiting for your
          fifteen minutes of tomato Andy Warhol
          now as you are given the phone strait
          to god and he says that the universe is
          comming back to where it all began no
          its not a song its called the little gasp or
          r.i.p.] you start twisting screaming no sex
          that you have been watching on gods
          eye ball why do you think you have been
          ignored no clouds to lay on with she
          whoms name i may no longer speak
          and drink wine and write poetry then
          with a mighty crash of blinding lite and
          a grunt you are amongst us knowing
          that you were just ripped off worse
          than he whoms head just had shoes
          thrown at it could have ever done you
          why because he loves you..: >) it(s hebenly..: >)

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive               161
          ~it) s~what~the~beatle~said~

          great roller of dung said to me
          as he flowed forth from the
          offerings yes, I am forced
          to eat.
          watching from his warm eyes I
          do, steam swirling up, of the
          sweet chunks of chicken, that flow
          from your hand knowing yes in my
          other life I was one of them to.
          Please watch where you step today your line may
          be shorter than you think.) it(s gone today bank in a blink...: >) it(s chicken the best
          of white meats..: >)

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                                  162
          ~Lost~dad~Found

          Great is the melon you wear and share
          a dying breed once snared.
          Resting heart lost art a delving hand
          within a sea of words you part.
          Every day we were apart my Merlin shrunk
          my britches fell in lake.
          Apples oranges different taste hasty singing
          ever of your praise.
          Tremble quaking strong in frase verbs in
          place in sleep we rest our nouns.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive          163
          ~Mistake~or was it

          It has been about a week
          maybe not.
          I mailed to you that which
          was ask.
          To me back none came
          something here
          perhaps or maybe
          you went some where
          though we really don't
          know each other
          in your mind.
          In reality you spoke first
          to me thinking I was
          some one else when
          I am just me.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   164
          ~my~stomach~

          dose hear the rhythmic mythic contractions of
          my bowels.) it(s the other white meat) it(s what himself put
          us here for) it(s..our heaven..: >) it..: >)

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                          165
          ~pick on someone else~

          ....I am small, I have feelings, I am your son,
          ....I know you are busy!
          ....I am glad I have two parents most of my,
          friends have only one!
          ... I dont know what the word grateful means?
          ... I have this indescribable feeling that makes
          ....my chest hurt when I think about not having any
          ....mother or father.
          ... I love going fast, mother hates that I do
          ... I try to explain that every thing around me is
          always moving and I have to get out of its way.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                 166
          ~qicke`litle~rahbit

          humps of hills clover in
          green burrows to show
          wiggle of the neck in the
          clam most honey will see
          hopping shopping rabbit
          in peat one bunny i keep.


          for Aristotle to keap.
          thank you.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   167
          ~running the gauntlet~

          After I hatched I had many brothers and sisters
          most of which I never met.
          Thinking back no one told me of the dangers
          of being just begot.
          Then I met my friend the snook (snookums)
          talk about a wild ride I almost died
          trying to tell you this story.
          Many were the villages I fled in dread never
          thinking about my parents.
          Gestapo snookums crash in with mile wide
          grin without even a parachute.
          In-retrospect what is worse being smoked
          of love with honey and butter




          Finger mullet are at the top of my preferred
          bait list, because they are a favorite food
          for just about every coastal saltwater fish.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive             168
          ~snivel~ok~

          Take it easy on me you can
          squeeze) it(s safe to burn
          dont make me squirm
          to long to please your
          last request to hang
          me high at noon.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   169
          ~soft glow~

          For she who does hold the lamp
          for the blind to see.
          To hold open the door to he of
          hers of weary heart.
          Cleft in the rock of solidarity of
          she whom weeps
          for all.
          Bearer of his staff of hope on this she dwells as well.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                     170
          ~ssshhhh quiet hold these while i get the rest..#1

          LOST IN
          these your senses
          as i have said already
          were asleep either
          playing hide the Saloma or
          lusting clueless in Seattle to Courtney's doves of love
          i cannot make you lift your leg
          to expel the accumulation of toxic Glass
          jaded that hangs
          ragged from your bleeding edges maimed.
          You let me take away certain inalienable rights
          that if seen again
          will only be when aliens do come
          and give lunitics more trees to print money with.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                     171
          ~ssshhhh quiet hold these while i get the rest..#2

          It is good you have a lot of money
          you need no rights when you are
          as rich in lusious gold mullet roe.
          I am not beating you up it only is
          more trauma for the round next.
          It takes to long to grow body parts
          in silence I have the right to come
          take your sons and daughters you
          will say nothing your neighbors think
          you aahhh are ex centric anyway.
          The fact is you don't have a lot of
          money it is nearly worthless anyway
          can you think next what of value you
          have worth taking Arabs our attention
          in fine sands detail will soon prevail
          willless in the end any way, begging.
          Trading tons of Gold weekly in is
          Dubai unwatched carried as is about... :)
          Thank someone you are educated
          degree totin multi lingual writing in
          open blue skys freedoms cracked bell..
          Forever and ever, please my parts are
          spoiled I lay with noone and I broke
          some thing once, oh yea, nurse..nurse
          I am tired, is it time for my scrubs..?
          Heavenly bliss i am kissed by you.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                172
          ~swivel~those~hips~

          down the dark hall i thought you
          were done with me but i sill had
          these hips for you to swivel and
          swivel them you did very chained
          down to the eye bolts there was
          not hope left it seemed as if every
          shred of flesh had been sanded
          from my highways and byways
          you had no right to my tideways
          sorely tied they are my back
          cracking under the animal
          onslaught not even found at
          the polar bear exhibit at the zoo
          i am turned inside out i can
          only say stop but dont quit.
          ~~~~LOVES GREAT~~~~

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   173
          ~then~again~

          I am your dirty little dog who licks you clean
          and wont tell..: >) it(s loevily just delicious.

          ...: _: >) it(s fair... :)

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive              174
          ~tit~or~tat

          I throw you a bone you throw
          me your leg.
          You throw me honeyed lip I
          throw you the
          biggest kiss.
          You throw me your heart well...
          ....I just cannot bring
          myself to part
          with it.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   175
          ~Tomorrow's Wife

          Preparing for the daughter
          The ever dutiful mother
          Her excitement is contagious,
          Back in arms of husband...

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   176
          ~trapped~ in~ ice~

          No one sees that I am here looking out.
          One passing cloud can change my view.
          The walls that contain me are rainbowed.
          Entering me the world is never the same.
          Delightful harmony blowing over my face.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive      177
          ~you~~snivel~me~

          up, you snivel me, down.
          why?) it(s ok don't cry today.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   178
          ~you~finally~

          Heard winds hastily depart leaving warm
          well warn coat not
          in shame.
          Eagerly flew the days so true of prior such
          meeting tips the
          wings of you.
          Amour vast minds can never disown your
          claim to land etched in marble
          stately view made
          of you.
          Rapid heights the sky in you morning clouds
          of linen both lay our
          heads to sleep.
          Devine of thought does bring around picture
          glimpsed of you this morn
          this is your song.



          22-12-08

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive         179
          >-she-fired>red<blanks-<

          Hard heavy used I slept
          is it hands intentioned a
          grip to squeeze the stars
          (>red<) while resting eye
          Gold dust rides all cracks.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   180
          a foot long) adult(

          Strait, arched high,
          working kneading,
          gently, move a toe,
          back to, and fourth
          sideways, hidding
          washing me, in play
          nails I paint, so pink.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   181
          a babies bed

          It is cut out of pink,
          vain, marble'above
          drained to a sea,
          below,
          it's rim is truely laboured.
          over in it's Life,
          appears in heat at night,
          static in it's flash, is grinding
          rocks, cooled by heavy
          breath,
          soaked in waves, foams flame.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   182
          a Barn

          I don't mean to frustrate you.
          I just don't have forever like you do.
          When I tremble you, you tremble me worse.
          Did you even think of that?
          I have never even ridden a horse!
          How do I fall down? How do I get on?
          You never thought about that, just assumed!
          I would not even know where to look for a saddle.
          Would you?

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive               183
          a Beacon

          Eternity, has waited, patiently listens re verbs, thump.

          Blind, without form, coalescing, a vibration becomes out.
          Trillions, of invisable notes line every bar, I emerge into.
          I cross the cleft, planets shimmer, closer to obelisk.I swell.
          Murky, steam warm moist, I feel with my tongue, armless
          still just this form, it circles, around pink button reaching.
          My skull is rocked, shaken this flesh alive throbbing, on, off,
          singularly firm is planted, back to front, skyward.
          Three simultaneous eruptions, Blanche the sky, thick with pink.
          Comets whip it to thin, far flung, ripples, the void is once again born.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                      184
          a bee

          I open one, a drawer,
          of hive and look out.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   185
          a cave for mothers, lover

          Parting silk rushes the cliff side
          honeyed with combs, host honors
          undis turbed.
          Walls smoothed, in appreciation.
          Tools absent, pools, small holes do
          lay scattered.Heat from the hill is a
          hand on the belly, her womb, as fire.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   186
          a change of parts

          She has no problem jumps right in.
          It understands nothing, doctor has.
          It stand straight up, sharp pressed,
          yet still misses point, backing it up.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive    187
          a cloud, a star

          The tree is a soft pillow,
          against my back,
          after the picnic,
          tooth pick dangles,
          i nod off to sleep,
          thinking of building a home,
          in a cloud
          being obsessed,
          it should be as essay
          as counting the stars.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   188
          a cricket and a rock bath

          In warm orchid lavender,
          soap hides it's soft scent.
          As it's rubbed with another,
          one cricket lift es it's knee.
          When sun rises, one rock,
          rolls around, empty fish bowl.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   189
          A Dictators Vat of Bleached Words

          Thank you, thank you the election
          went smoothly yes, yes hallowed
          be my name(substitute yours)) it(s
          Time) it(s time) it(s really time to,

          Leave any free form of thought out
          of your mind in a jar preferably we
          can now put prerecorded words in
          your mouth via brain train express O.

          One rope fits all, try to say what I say
          or nothing atall, short fat thin our diet
          is in the vat of bleached words gone
          for all time my will is not going to be
          mistaken for yours so get on the wall
          be a man be a woman hemp is waiting.

          Yes those who ran against me are in
          the vat waiting for you to what what you
          must be from that country that says one
          thing and does another or vise versa ect.



          Dedicated to all
          expired and soon
          to be expired
          word dictators
          be hemp be cool
          wear a new neck tie.
          Come on try) it(s fasionably limp.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive       190
          a face on a stage

          The music is not, can, is a duplicate of some
          lost fantasy, caught in lights.many assets, you float
          outside fast poles- through it, to find it, it eyes fights,
          the heavy curtain is youth, lifted to reveal, some of
          the birth of it.shiny textures, glow healthy, hands
          help from no where, parts are hatched, little are
          us, it's white, itlings..you fan her, each reaches to
          lift anew, plump ankles to guide apart, new music
          is gathered in ur bowls, as white hubbies, in pink.
          the Queens, gathers us, you, me them watching, up
          even without tickets, some others, few new found a
          wet hand in it, your show, your parts, exposed, some
          dance in powdered air, to run in her front, out the back.
          three, four, take pictures to record, derrieres paused, breath.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                             191
          a few ladies

          Spiritually with me, subjectively
          wicked cruel, mean can they be.
          Such is goody two shoes, would
          chow me off to friends, it blushes.
          They know it is shy, much tremble
          you lay me in sleep, flush in hand.
          I do not know, from whence came
          the crown, burgle it not in, to shame.
          a Queen knows, her feet are in trust.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive    192
          A Frozen Single Foot

          Climbing a flesh colored hill
          peeking from peak to peek.
          Wondering from origin sake
          dragging limp stump behind.
          While your drink is cooled
          from the ice in my shoe.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   193
          a golden draw knife

          It is used fairly if ever, in
          memories eye, it cuts.
          Logs forever,
          never harvested, in greed.
          To few seeds are, gifted out.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   194
          A Good Wife Would

          Brave the world plant a seed be placed first
          grant a key her fame passed
          course with me.

          ReLight the flame fire roars high logs of passion
          runs through sun as sea of life does
          singe the sky now fly.

          All along she knows quite well a kitchen cook full
          of books my stomch dwells upon your
          palm my belly drags
          the ground.

          Volume winks her eye some music plays soft foot
          upon my back the muscles groan
          as stones unwind.

          Enters song my yearning bright as years have flown
          the clock will bring a picture
          fond of youth.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                195
          a label

          I have looked inside
          all of your drawers.
          The coat is not worn.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   196
          a letter from you...)            >|<(

          Dear farmer dell,

          Many are the days since I riased
          the flag on our pole..slippery I am
          sure that it is..relaxing on the bow
          of a much larger boat have..I..been
          The shaft holding the prop..exceeds
          factory specifecations...I was in need
          of a doctor..in a hurridly fashion........
          The doctor nearly lost his arm in the
          prop..trying to change my empellor.
          Languid days...partys make..spared
          none..checking breeding credentials
          of the fops..hiding in uncropped hair
          thumbs indictative short commings.
          Blessed is the queen square shorts
          have I that she spared..denuded top
          expose the busts of time standing still.
          My excersion boat will soon depart for
          my next thrill..I do not miss the dell....
          therein the cows do dwell in maddness
          brain.boneapart...I take my leave...is) it(..
          waiting..? ....) it(s..vain..I..know.......
                Love..) it(..is I whom waits for no
          boats..rescue...) it(..is found
                                   Sincerly,
                              one..half..owner..
                               of..) it(s..dell...) within it(..dwells

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                          197
          a letter to anon

          What is the length of a word in breadth
          inside, kept short.
          The young two, forever and a day, they
          would die...to soon.
          The old one alone in you, without breath
          a word to long would bring the grave, into
          the house inside o lay, upon your tomb....

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive        198
          a Lie, on pinks

          My Body betrays me, I
          just cannot think it would.
          So, I blush, on all it's brains.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   199
          a low dissonant rumble

          I knew when the candy arrived,
          as a child it raddled a copper or two.
          When you became violently ill,
          dusted tootsies, Tinna to sing, tunes you
          could, as the rule as is just, for a dollar.
          Days when resonant distant thunder appeared,
          heavenly is the wind, lightning would crack,
          using there coin,
          to the store and back invisable is rain.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive          200
          A Made Up Name

          What an ego placed on a raft that doesn't move......
          Yes..so it's my raft..some one had to volunteer........
          Do we change rafts as names..
          Do you want to risk a move backward.....................
          I made up these words..do I get to make you up
          with a brand new name
          What name will you give me next...inspirations
          sweaty thighs................................................................

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                           201
          A Man Named, 'Sir Poo'

          There is a man who likes to write about, 'Poo'
          He seems to find it in everything
          In all that he feels to him was Poo.

          I once asked him, 'why he tends to write this way? '
          He never really gave a clear answer back
          Skirting around it in his Poo like way.

          He seemed to me to be a hurt, sad fella, this Poo
          I don't know if any of you, had even a clue.
          Not really finding real humor in most of his poems
          So I choose to leave for a while, Sir Poo man alone.

          I shared with him my feelings on God
          But his replies to me, always seemed a bit Pooishly odd.
          Somewhere inside the message he'd sent
          Was a man that seemed, just Poo hell bent.

          But once in a while I'd get a line from him
          Commenting on my poetry, that on Poem Hunter I send.
          For all to read, and maybe feel inside what I've said
          In hopes that my words will again awake
          something inside that was once Poo dead.

          With Love, Dedicated to: 'Is It Poetry'-Or- Sir Poo

          By: Linda Winchell
          Copyright: 2009

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                      202
          a Mask, is to Eye

          You travel back words, into the mask
          both sides, are free swimming.In black.

          I take a picture with my eye, universe is
          the mask that you wear, clicked in space.

          The dots are millions, the mask is plain so.

          Flecks emulate enters, to burn unnamed.
          Soul of that which is held, travels on plain.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive           203
          a Mothers glove

          Mother gave all, five loaved
          sons, each held, one finger.
          Before they left home, with
          in, loves glove of protection.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   204
          a Mr President

          Mr President,

          Use the system well, use it to further
          the aims of your daughters, thinking
          they are poor and fatherless...
          Use the system as a lawyer would, it
          is now a system of and for lawyers, the
          rest copulate with one they won't tell...
          Use the system to not allow a mob
          mentality to rule our future for years to
          come knowing in the end it will only have
          to be undone, when there grand children
          then become are born enlightened.
          I would beg you a pardon,
          If they the corrupt cannot come around
          from thier greed, call the IRS on them, make
          them bow to how it was, when once you
          were as you now are but they never were,
          humble to beg at the feet, of a shoeless one.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive           205
          a natural habitat

          SO,
          Tarzan wades through, thick grass.
          Jane sings opera, with Oprah.
          Boy, well boyz are boyz, to men...to sing and grin...
          Cheetah, well yea, there's Cheetah, she
          who drinks long island ice teas, swings
          through the trees and pees on us all....
          While I just stand there, looking up at it, getting wet.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                      206
          a Negative

          Since we are not talking about blood, let us stop
          the wast of silver in these, your last still, when
          you sat for me, to have that picture taken.

          Was it not? Just about the money..in the end<

          Y&U, ponder the voices, those in your head, some
          of course would not have your best interest at heart
          agents do come and go, so while...you are...
          flowing through rocks with lose jagged ends, like the
          hair, which moved by some choice, since lost to me.

          You pick the mode that moves my feet, I do not always
          float either, still that picture is wicked dab, like I once said,
          when you become famous, what do I do with all those lost
          photographs, not all of which are stuck in my head,
          un exposed.

          The camera is still on.I know in your very own words, the
          show must go on untill we are dead, for the cause.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                               207
          a New medication

          Do u know how u feel
          when u eat like twenty
          pork chops or three
          packs of bacon or five
          tripple stacks and go to
          sleep? This iss worse!

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   208
          a pink pill

          I hate it, the fault of the world belongs to it.
          What were they thinking, when they made it?
          The subatomic world, slows, then stops.
          Nucleus my center, it's bottom never centered right, it's drive.
          Chemicals, push and pull me as the tides, moonless eye.
          The ride is vast, ferrous, filled with misgivings, one big rush.
          I am being driven, the line is endless, little waiting faces, all blind.
          Doesn'T she, understand, I can be a waiter, I am patient?
          Blind Helpless, I am pushed out, discarded, never to feel as
          she did, the day when normal all flowed away.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                      209
          a Plot, a Monkey

          The treats are special, behind her long bars.
          She sings, I toss her one, she winks..is laugh I turn very quick
          aside as a stream, flies by.
          Her antics I fell in love with years ago, her special cakes on
          my birthday she makes....did you catch that to?
          When it flew by? ..This monkey has plots that put
          Queen's Elizabeth's
          is shame, bartered well, green tufts, a Thames weed.
          This monkey plots me with her.When her leaves, become bread.
          I leave the hand quickly, Her ward has spoiled her.
          Some one gave this monkey, an anatomically correct doll, the other monkey looks, like
          his parts are missing..The doll is well used.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                               210
          A Pond Kept Hidden

          Secrets some of but the few
          one remains for ever
          holds true to none
          for two.
          The paths we would take when
          small and alone were nanny
          to all but two.
          Windy and forked long the way
          being last always unbeaten
          path seen only with
          mind Devina.
          Only two of one leading the way to
          the one covering hued gold silver
          the follidge such light in soft color
          the pond.
          Gifted two children always ran
          to the pond in the east arriving
          there heavy bags both had
          bought not cheap in the wind you do hear
          laying aside drawn open bag
          sins of their world laird bare into the pond
          with hardly a kaum to an
          endless bottom never brought back.
          A pond we kept hidden from all others our troubles.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                 211
          a punks punk

          A nice looking young man
          turned into a punk married
          to punk turned out by punk
          punked out snorting cacain.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   212
          a Seal

          Carved in flesh, is cut
          it grows again...Seal
          even in death, craved
          by some, scream white
          on forehead bone, chills.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   213
          A Single Tear

          Eternity made inside to grow
          singular shape to know
          duct of the salt rolls from
          this flesh cured spectrum
          emotions all do tast
          you grow.

          Many are the tears that
          formed your face.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   214
          a sneaky hand

          You seem to get younger
          every morning
          when we rise.
          The dreams are strange
          but dreams they aren't.
          The new little web cam in the
          corner will confess to me
          I love confessions.
          Her soft mask a compulsion
          over which
          her
          hands always move
          she would call it Paul
          his
          a life of it's own.
          Strange these compulsion and
          how they are triggered
          upon review of sleeps past nights
          the sneaky little hand with my gun
          has robbed Pete to pay Paul.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   215
          A Sparrow Shirped*

          And the whole world listened..

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   216
          a star

          amongst so many heads is spinning
          shinning star lid closed feels of me.

          blankets room to roam eyes on loan
          gathering motes in flecks we all lay

          hands o you throughout the sands glow
          mastering the length of me you to grow.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive     217
          a Straw i drew

          O f the billions
          i can draw you.
          Paint, blushes.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   218
          a swines love, is cuckoo

          The pink pig, oinks the time, while the cuckoo
          reclines on the chair, and waits, on the clock.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive             219
          a Tabellae Ut Regina

          Ut quondam vos erant, haud diutius iam es vos.
          Quondam nos erant ut vulgaris ut pods, fields duos paganus.
          Vestri wars EGO fought, brought nostrum terra contego.
          Vos profiteor diligo undying salute, breast patella have
          pulsatus harp.
          lac lactis ex vestri terra jug hallways, novus mihi in vicis
          of bellum.
          Bellum has ended, you must tendo ut liberi servo per vos.
          Salus mos iam trucido caries intus.
          Diligo has lost est is camena.




          a Letter To The Queen,
          As once you were, no longer now are you..
          Once we were as common as the pods, fields two peas.
          Your wars I fought, brought our country, my shield..
          You confessed loves undying salute, breast plates have strung the harp...
          The milk from your earthen jug hallways, refreshed me in times of war....
          War has ended, you must tend to the children, I served through you....
          Salutations, I will now slay the corruption within..
          Love has lost is it poetry...

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                       220
          a taste of last week

          Money was tight flat twenst the cheeks
          spits out three quarters fare
          markets the value
          not even jew's.
          Peckerwood hillbilly redneck I'm is
          likened in
          it is the norm
          in a pool
          catching his fish
          with chicks eating his chips
          sinking most ships.
          While some pull my tug boat along for thier ride.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive               221
          a teacher

          Why is her worth demeaned?
          Is it her worth,
          so mismanaged by others?
          Some are short, to the point!
          While others,
          rush over every syllabus,
          slowly excitingly,
          treating every last day first.
          Nuns always trembled it, humbled it,
          made it speak all her words of it...
          bound in miles of sail, home in it......
          Pi nicks found in lunches pails, her books.
          Her looks more than once,
          flustered the pace,
          my snails outlook chalk is boards.
          So blushed on the buff,
          ears always red for days.
          Thank god,
          are the girls that tutored with it every day.
          There smiles lashed at ships to dreams,
          in years, recalled, in winks.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive           222
          a tear

          Is the last dropp hidden
          to feed her one red rose.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   223
          a thread shed to many

          Extends through my body, contained within, blown without,
          controlled by a vibrant hued, pink livid hand.
          To dangle, on this her spigot, brings her joy, on this for her, for
          her only, do i, must i, will i swing..while she sings....
          of other things, it is forgotten.
          On this, hers, this thin thread, she holds it..a look unproved, is
          only but by the fire, in the hole that Venus, Mons does spew.
          Telescopic, is to raze, the heavens as her thin veil, never cries.
          This fire makes the oil, you bottle, to spray within us, is allowed.
          Birds around the world, wonder as forever, spins thus..in dance.
          While my thread of pinkness, in which it is trapped is passed
          from one pink hand, to another, freshly spun...from her, pink spigot.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                   224
          A Title Proper

          Queens and Furies all speak dust.
          Tarts of sugar leap in guttered shoes
          to sleep.
          Fleeing felons TB shows so sad the
          ending knows no other way.
          Plastic tonsils last a life time.
          Children never steal square quarters
          machines wont work at shcool.
          Quails always nest in my comforter then
          I beat them..
          Sheep never need a hair cut as I raise
          them in my sleep.
          Poo is always delicious as it never comes
          out the same way.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive       225
          a Unknown

          Ignored by you watching
          is learned will they to be
          like you unversed wind?

          Lost trails left are lost is
          a foot not yours worth it?

          Prints the sand unknown
          unknown author blamed
          allowing unknown name!

          Listless is sand blowing
          wind howls are knowing
          she knows of my calling.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   226
          a(I)               'words,

          Did (I)           tell on you?
          NO!
          Never tell on yourself, tell)            it(to me, your (I)           in you.
          Did you wait, listen, think (I)               have some thing to say? (I)          don't.
          Say it often, does it change, the intention, the core that is you?
          Give)         it(away, much of, (I)                many, maids never wait on me, (I)
          them.
          Literally, Must (I)              tell on the two of you? ..NO! ..you are safe.
          Wordless, then)            it(is, that (I)           am, only then.Are you safe.
          Tomorrow, yes you know, somebody else could (I)                     be?
          Wordless)           It(is then (I)            need not need be.Need did not change (I) .
          A word that was said (I)               you did not hear from my mouth(I)             have not
          told, have you? NO! you haven't either (I)                know.
          (I)          need you baby (I)               need you ohhh God how (I)            need you.
          (I)         (I)    (I) do..(I)         do....any thing....any thing...(I) ..blush
          )     I(wait ever so patiently, to love you at your feet..this you have heard so you now
          know, so you to can as well, know, (I) ...your feet are beautiful to me....will you not
          rub on me more, with them..?

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                                       227
          A* Very* Small* Word

          Mamma said:

          Vibrent stone mountain hidding grace
          mirthful tree in glee.
          Foghead top creased of bark dog stops.
          Roaring wind down through the
          hollar cease.
          Shaking body twitching toes would
          you come to know.
          Eyes rolled up to you would think
          him dead.
          Spell of magic none have heard
          before.
          Books have serects all would come
          to dread.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive    228
          a, fire

          I walk, amongst the tender shoot, it once was.
          The ashes stiffle breath, grey lost in eye, now brown so dark
          this sky.

          The stream was in bathing, floating clutter, dreams
          of yours to cry.
          My Feat is roses, shrivel, burnt are vineless, pink as once was
          pale blood.

          Riderless, horse of dust, would if could to finish thus, tramples
          under foot, burnt ropes that chafe the soul, in acidic soil, once more.

          Is it, sits and crys, barren, to wade forever, through once potted
          tender hands, to know no more.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                     229
          a, little Lost

          I walk, look, walk, look and walk
          some more,
          I do notice every thing, even you.
          I am not, can not, wish I were you
          some,
          one else.
          Please, your walk is different to me.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   230
          a...Hearses....vengeful fire

          The ride started at the very beginning.
          I ride waiting, I don't watch.I am to tired.
          I clean up the worst of your messes.
          What else can such pitiful creatures, do
          to one another.
          Once I looked forward to my visits, as would
          any loving parent, yet, parent's should not be
          able do this to each other, unless they were
          never parent's.
          I watched your parent's raise you.I know they
          would have gone to jail based upon the known
          hypocrisies flouted now.
          It is always the case without exception, that the
          executioner, jailer and such dwelling they within,
          killed, falsely held, nightmares inside born to
          inflict upon others.
          One country so desensitized of itself has deluded
          oneself into thinking,
          that the maze of fences within thier mind, without
          beginning, never an ending each year, asking me
          to put the pieces of your children and family, back
          together while they walk upon the bloody edges
          in pink, for the men and black, for the women, silks
          stocking, never dirty or soiled, yet changed much to
          frequently as with the cargo that a hearse pursues.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                  231
          About the Brain

          When it is damaged
          remember, it is a blessing
          in disguise.
          You have thousands,
          of miles of neurons,
          to travel.
          I have only one,
          so who gets to the finish line, first?

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive    232
          Above, a Thousand Eyes

          Thousands of pin prick lights
          eyes, above, everywhere I look.
          they are, Watching me.
          Harder down they stare, Fumble
          in the shower is the water, hot or cold.
          I feel some thing, looking down, incompatible.
          These feeling go back along long ways.
          Window eyes, they shop, goods are never bought.
          The mannequins do talk amongst themselves, when you are gone.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                           233
          abox of parts

          What is a start, to finish,
          sewing fingers on feet,
          toes on hands, heads in chests,
          her breasts i place
          on her back,
          where they now grow, to belong.
          With a special test for her tounge,
          that i split in two.
          Now able to converse,
          out of both sides of her mouth,
          just as i drew.
          She tells me her story,
          it is not like the rest, out on a date,
          picked up in a bar.
          Slipped by a hand,
          that came out of the dark,
          to park that pill,
          inside her glass of beer.
          Her pinks,
          are a lastly bled,
          mutated horrible sled,
          pulling dread,
          as i search for her eyes,
           lost out of insular colors.
          She never stops talking, about
          what she will do, when i open
          her mind,
          and sew shut her oven,
          and leave her to squander her dime.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive     234
          Absolutely Stunning

          Laying there coiled
          waiting to strike
          headless spaghetti.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   235
          abuse her some more

          yea, the door knob gave me
          this black eye.
          yea, I broke my leg falling down
          the stairs.
          why did you set me on fire?
          I mustn't smell very good maybe
          you think i do.
          was it that you ran out of alcohol
          maybe you were traped in your
          bottle swimming.
          my mind my heart my soul lost
          in the spirit breaths no more is
          the pain you cut into me.
          the hose up my but washes you
          clean it is your dirty mind falling
          out in the tub.
          face a punching bag all for your
          trophy's you never won never to
          grow up always alone.
          we loved you even more after we
          knew you were the animal you are.
          mum shot you so we could be free
          you still haunt us now leave us be.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   236
          Adam's ant

          Was loyal faithful true
          before breads
          greats hits he
          knew.
          Hills had eyes even
          then yet
          still
          the ant could not see.
          Adam took ant to evea
          where she taught ant
          ger main
          ant did come back to
          swing is little world a
          sword of bread.
          Adam and evea marveled
          and therein thereafter had
          a lunch in the open each day.
          This is why you go on picnics
          so you can pay ant back rent
          with a few crumbs each day..

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   237
          addicts do change

          Names, more names, never ancient
          protection from one's self, to wash.
          In-blur to roam, wordless in eruptions
          dawn, left on yesterdays new stain.
          Journey of familiarly, scooping out
          bowls previously uneaten, fresh was
          the fruit, now stale, face now dull, eyed from
          gluttony's bloated hand, inside still unfed.
          Addicts can change, yet still you eat the young.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive              238
          adeath, won bye some

          as i sleep they emerge, i wait for them,
          patience is not there forte.
          i see them warily talked out, this light
          bulb i peek from is so warm, it blushes me, in to
          hot watts, never question how many.
          it just glares at stupid me, the first is easy, as
          she leans over the edge of today, i whack her
          good on the butt, she thanks me, to leave out the
          door for a freakish change of cloths..yesterday comes
          out again, she is worry and slim, she is the one with the
          wicked sneaky hand, it holds my gun.
          the barrel is bent, and coltish blued, while she tries to
          strain it, i push her, back down into my bottle of grins.
          where she drowns for all of her sins.
          tomorrow is potent patience, sure of herself, quite pure,
          no wicked ways or sin rushes into her parts at all,
          while i wait, she waits on us all, still in sleep, counting
          the minutes left to us all..

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                         239
          advance, slowly, cautiously

          They wait in ambush for you, so
          back slowly towards me, and run.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   240
          Advanced Age

          Old will I be when the lass is twenty
          fair faced clear eyed
          regal carridge
          Sop for a mum does
          one know.
          Bottle in the neck does not grow
          pain of the house takes the
          crown from her soul never flys
          dont why such was the world
          I came into..

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   241
          advertising

          It is about Exposure!
          Sell it, without it.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   242
          aEmpty Bottle

          I am with my friends though the gloss
          of their sheen dulls.
          They are still my friends they the moon
          and tree will comfort me as I doze:
          I am on a sandy dune like I have
          never seen.
          I hear Orange voices in my head.
          A mother weeping for a bed of sand
          that would make my village into a play box.
          A tendrel wispy in nature torches my throat.
          Foolish woman you are dreaming the
          dream of an empty bottle.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive          243
          aface of it

          The Englished language, has way
          to many crooked letter humpbacks.
          This is why, it sleeps on your feats,
          so when they drift, it can wash them.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   244
          aFoolish Mind

          Under the tree I wonder with the soft glow of moon my friend for lite, He sees in my
          comfort that the cuneiform from my hand stays flowing like the wine in my cup that's
          so cold.Bamboo creeks and groans from
          rubbing together I have listened to since I was a child.
          The lines on the paper are like the lines on my face long drawn out and cold.Warmth I
          would give to the soul yet my wine will carry me to the end.I will come back as the tree
          that I sit for and comfort you in all you say and do.The gnome in the village slipped
          and fell and is in heaven: It seems he lacked the grace to fly from the village bridge
          such is the way of folly.The fools we gladly suffer.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                                 245
          Afraid Of The Dark*

          With two suns every thing
          is twice as nice to see
          two birds two bees
          two I died and went to heaven
          twins who were nothing alike
          in all the ways that didnt
          matter yet were in those
          that did
          so in my world the sun
          never goes down so
          what it is to be afraid
          of the dark.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   246
          After The Deed Is Done

          Laying in my after thought
          beside me you are.
          Tired but arn't we all yet
          thrills are hard to come by
          for fourty nine scent's.
          Victims play our follys out
          table salt drips off you t.v.
          keeps us up so you
          walk the streets unseen
          nothing but the padding
          of your heals on the
          bricks eating clams...

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   247
          After the humility fades

          Face is ashen taught haggard
          source hollows
          beings core boned
          white
          marrow lights roads path in red.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   248
          After The last Curtain *

          Insanity prevailed that night
          did you think no not I.
          Wedding to die for keep that
          mob from the door.
          Best looking couple in town
          brains as well.
          Properly proportioned yes
          notion lovers friends.
          Quotient of reason from one
          or the other.
          Instead Judges Lawyers dressed
          in black eyes still.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   249
          ageless plotters

          They are but the few,
          wicked though they do.
          They plot ts and schemes,
          rhinos are there dreams.
          When just one pink, can
          run in four, sad distinct,
          separate flat directions.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   250
          aheavy hammer

          Always, without single exceptin
          ruins, all the very best, ...NAILS.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   251
          airless wing

          Wingless I ride the commode
          transmutation into boneless
          chicken hen pecked
          rolling head
          rubber neck
          laughing stock bare skinny
          shins rusty scale
          limed away
          tackled
          ticked lice vermin
          splintered bones
          dropped off in Kentucky fried.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   252
          Alabama Remembered

          Stars back then all did see the blazing of the night
          were comming home
          to me.
          Young our songs the future some in
          flame did see.
          Wisdom of our folly few seen in shores
          of sand I bath for
          all to see.
          Magic winds the faces I see blazing
          crosses high above
          the sea.
          Simple southern man I chose
          to be.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                  253
          aleap ahead ayesterdays ahead

          You knew this need would happen, to change
          this day for tomorrows, today rewound.
          I step out of your husk, it is chafted, scuffed in
          worms, silks unhealed browns, to many yesterdays
          has it seen, never brushed.
          The widows eye, it is flushed, it's last chance catches
          my ankle, I fall upon her cheek, as unwanted irrigation.
          Where once soft pink, now pastures faded brown,
          to blacks last pulls is shade.
          The track of many heart felt victories, rest upon in
          hollow, branched reburied, tributaries tearless.
          As the window of the sun, is pulled shut, lashes gripp
          releases me to tumble, once again into sleep.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                      254
          All Gather Patiently I wait

          Sqaure the table seen most
          are here.
          Gathered all some think
          some say some act.
          The parting of
          one sea.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   255
          all i am

          Is simple encouragement
          to wonder halls clouded
          with thoughts you think you
          thought or wrote down but
          did not revis) it(those revis) it(
          the thoughts now and they will
          rev) is(it you all of you today.: - :)

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive    256
          All You Hold Dear

          You hold in both hands.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   257
          All you See

          Is>my world in your palm ablaze for the few
          seeking a view such is the sight brought
          to light standing upright drapped in
          linnens cloth your cheese.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive         258
          ALLIGATOR TRAPHER

          When
          redneck hillbilly
          mother
          allows
          inbred hick
          father to hang his
          hog tied
          buck naked daughter
          over the side of
          Connie's drafty canoe
          just to git er done.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   259
          ALLIGATOR TRAPHIM

          when your father
          hangs your son's
          butt
          over the
          side
          of the boat
          in the swamp
          it sprays every where.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   260
          ALLIGATOR TRAPTOGETHER

          No one was around
          this was planned since morning recess
          stripping they taste the cool water
          while joined at the hip
          without kind thought
          the sixteen foot ALLIGATOR sucks them
          into a gullet of soft
          grinding pressure..exploding both together
          into one long drawn out
          bauble of brown poot...aft is stern...very stern..

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                261
          Alone

          Love, cannot become stronger in death, living in death with all alone.
          I sit alone, adrift all around me you, feelings none among.
          I coquetted all, they sway me not, wishing to drink alone
          each and all but one, touched by all, seeing none alone one..is
          People watch me, as do you alone, with others some I knew
          none like you, alone, even inside of you but one alone.
          Adornment is wines last bottle to nurse you, none found you
          out, I did alone to fear deaths lusty touch alone, in bed alone.
          I know you will be alone when you read this, alone has the tail
          laid against your one eye, feeling heaven fly bye, black alone.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                    262
          alone in need of you

          i know, i need you,
          you the women of this world,
          that make it dance, it sing,
          it is atrial, for you in it.
          you, yet you,
          were put here in charge of it,
          to make it grow in it,
          to help him sow in it, inside your soul with it.
          you are all of it,
          within it, around it, to spin it, you make it go.
          you talk to it, walk in it, you lay in it,
          you always know the soul of it.
          alone it is, in need of you,
          you always let it know,
          with such a simple *****smile,
          so close it rushed,
          you make it grow in miles.
          it knows you know it,
          it bows down to you,
          still it must hide alone in it's need of you.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive               263
          Alone*

          In a cage of fear crowds of primitive people
          always near tearing rending &#1092; &#1083; &#1101; &#1096; from bone
          in mouth a snare frozen horror meat of putrid
          breath revealed blood of sight so dear
          where is your mother mine was eaten.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                   264
          alone, a single blush on you

          The mirror I look into, shows you nothing, not even sin.
          No face is transparent, It sees right through you.
          Ink blots, picture filled, formless never spilled, the stain
          flows upward, downward, pain is a voice of paint.
          Lead is bright, consumed in void, it's leaf has killed you.
          You lay as a marker, vivid soiled in beauty's, evaporation.
          I wander in search of nothing, I was never alone, on a brush.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                           265
          Ambidextrous

          Achingly awed
          looking down I
          wonder how she
          is able in circus
          not to let go her
          hold of life's left
          hands skipping
          while right folds
          one neckerchief.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   266
          Ameri>Can sods are Sexuality

          Confused, into bliss, movies, of danger, wet pink...panties
          locked and loaded, inVouge, Magazines, with the perfume sniffers
          torn out, fully loaded, fine hung cows...It to softens, the voice
          and slides down twin peaks, splashing all of it, milked..out in, to drink..
          Silicone gives us heartburn, Nexium..does us...in..side out..
          Yellow sun, buffs shined, silky voice, he stutters...in her wiggles room.
          Daughters in boxers, so short, now she Follows him...happy is his..
          Aguamenti On it's prize is purpose, must follow all is it's passions....in silk..larking.
          Key holes arouse us, a small hot Calderon..clean in sin..washed..dirty.
          We watch the view.....I'm left amused.....hand...always so firm, with it
          on one utter, the muses gun is swank...so soft....., so bent so cruel...

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                                       267
          a'message

          Minimisation, poetry, without eyes,
          of they, to taste, they to, do all cry tried unheard.
          I, have no time for you, Ur button of pain, is professors,
          proffer it's in glorious Id.
          To think you do, is not to stretch your message, i found in a bottle, addressed to you.
          I will, will it, whispers, glorious loud colors to trickle into the
          soft hairs,
          it is waxed inside you, your ear..tremble in you to think...

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                                     268
          Amongst All Of These

          Stretching forever my infinite beach of sand
          enriched all dunes.
          Tears each grain a weighty matter unto
          its self shines a bright light.
          Robust of color wondrous shades all
          exclaim looking for themselves
          of this sand.
          Enter you into this world souls of sand
          all stand.
          Together binds filaments freely to the
          grains the eye must see.
          Choices of the mind and soul others
          hold the body to the task.
          Henders not the mother of the sand
          who sleeps to watch.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive          269
          Amongst Them No Longer I Am *

          Here within no home I roam
          pillow of hers of which
          I know
          hallowed is her scent.
          Loam upon the rocky shore hewn
          from granit she does know
          my name.
          Inside her mind towit no man
          but I.
          Mounds of Venus mons on Mars
          interwined amongst all stars
          are they.
          Flashing brillint point of light a sun.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive     270
          aMouth Of Dreams

          Melancholy face lifting to the sky
          eyes wide remnant of faded
          paint on cheeks meshed
          with sand.
          Outlined delicacy queen of bone
          narrow high is the cheek
          arrow is lined the nose
          quivering nair..
          Under hair of what once was Inigo blue
          of dreams so sheen your
          reflection was seen.
          Tantalizing lobes a grape of fruit the ears
          could hear your mind at
          rest in sleep.
          High arched neck of graceful antelope
          dissolves in sand.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive         271
          aMy Mouth Your Dream

          Those memories of her long faded pains
          the face lined strain
          of mind unfolds.
          Heavy worn earned lines of pain only could
          obtain through wreath
          of care.
          Ofavorable pleasant to touch and taste
          rugged lined of grace
          to know.
          Silently thoughtful memories he shares
          in sleep restores my soul
          to keep heart
          in fold.
          Eternity unfolds while we thus lay once
          in life ever to grow
          more in love..

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive        272
          an opinion on this

          We owe more than even our grand
          kids can pay who are we kidding.
          Not me my ATM stopped working
          I guess it is out of money, but why?
          Are all kids hyperactive now or am I?
          People do move kind of slow and
          their voices sound like the biz of
          bees to me.
          Why are some people always up
          and others are never awake?
          I always have an opinion on the
          important things but why should I
          if you don't.
          I am an AmeriCan if I cannot bleed
          in the field I bleed at the bank
          in every way.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   273
          And I Drink From Them

          Vast oceans deepest cup would I
          so dien from you to keep
          in sleep.
          Knowing as I thirst your soul
          to quench the raging fire
          deep down below.
          Laughing dreaming pillows
          shared as one.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   274
          Animals and Public Safety (Florida)

          Two state Bills went before our
          Legislature to be passed one did.

          Bestiality(SB 448)
          Makes having a familial relationships
          with animals a third degree felony.....
          The hobbyist unpacked it..it failed...
          Who wants to do life on the house.

          Then the second one..

          D.N.A. reform(H.B.1151)
          Mandates if arrested in
          Florida, you will submit
          stem cells to the state data
          base...it passed....I wonder
          how will they keep up with
          the dogs and cats?
          Or can I send my clone in
          for a cup of my-tochondrial
          on hot days..when I visit, the zoo...

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive     275
          Anons Land

          Delving searching back through time
          in hope to find a title clean
          and pure so right and sure.
          Judgement free or wiped away Lien or liens
          the sheriff levied way.
          This job made easier if all above holds way
          from our table few if any walk away.
          Taxes titled doc-ed stamp ship receives
          at port assessor of the county
          lands do grow in value so do
          taxes new.


          Attn: Lisa
          Your help was very much appreciated.
          Dedicated to north American Title inc.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive         276
          anonymously i turned it over

          whistling kicking purple
          pebbles
          is tall grass watching
          familiar eyes i copy
          falling back waiting
          peeking through Hubble
          at you
          i have a buyer
          for a price
          you think that
          i know you are not alone
          Tarzan mixed his rice
          with yours
          now you wait this long to say
          that it is wild
          your cupo soup smells of fish
          i sleep in ponds lilies tonight
          with pink eye of moon..she
          never asks questions
          just turns it over autonomously.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   277
          Another hidden letter

          Dear Woman in) it(

          ) it(s Years cast) it(s..pearls round to shine
          in your lap..snug safe...with warmth...sighing....
          In the eyes as slate..to grey..a single..pearl..tear
          falls..on) it(s head..leaving) it(s safty...you bare...
          mountains ripe..rivers thirst..clouds flow..from lips..
          set aside...flowing streams...dew soft surrounds..
          faces..memories set aside..cascading pebbles held..
          tenderly in a cool mist shrowded..hand..clutched...
          ) it(s ponds released to fish the banks...waist deep....
          Caves mark ends beginning...refreshing beds to lay..
          grass uncovered to sway..undulating movements....call
          symphonies last heard..as you sang the birth of my tree..
          ) it(s length and girth few women slew...handled fares...
          gathered moss limbs..hang waiting for release as the..
          comming thaw of spring..in you brings new..) it(fades to
          hope) it(s meeting next insleep you hold) it(all...waiting..
          the next women's hold on) it(you grow.....
          .) it(s eerily quite...) it(s movement..) it(s deep...here her sway...

          ) it(s produced for you by) it(s Ellaiswise
          ) it(s directed at you to do) it(to yourself
          ) it(cannot do) it(to) it(self only you can do) it(

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                    278
          Another Kind Of Miricle

          Is loving, a punks punk it can be very
          hard, her grippe is firm, how she yells and) wink(s
          other wise the day is a bit warm.) it(smile) s to.
          I have washed the aphids, the milk is fresh and cool.
          The red rose is not a glare, wankers but are blind.
          Wink and a smile, so dont yell, i cannot hear you.
          Yet your ears are find in the forest in which you dwell.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                      279
          ant has a crumb for you

          Ant knowing how people dropp crumbs,
          gathers them.
          In hoard, day after day risking feet of many,
          one crumb at a time.
          Ant carries them on it's back, bundles oh so
          many, held in keep.
          In the midst of famine, ant takes it's cookies
          back to the trail of crumbs, to the inn keeper.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive             280
          Antagonist *

          None to me would I call
          my fall would be heavy
          filled with pain
          bones breaking to use you
          to cushion ask of me
          would I no it is
          above me.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   281
          antisipation

          leaveing the day care center
          winters coat warmly dawned
          looking back plant in view
          hearing false foot steps.

          There is only a picture
          face brushed lovingly
          pain full the long drive
          arriving to pick her up

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   282
          Ants*

          Going about my daily bread
          leaving a trail of crumbs
          this sausage swoops down
          stirring the ground leaving
          the way home lost to me.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   283
          Anxiously *

          Back and forth I pace the hall
          brightly lit I hear the call was
          it meant for me?

          Red eyes rimmed deepest black
          hollow to the soul head turned
          to the side did I hear it right?

          Two days I heard them say this
          labor is not right third day we
          come away a lonesome soul
          this night.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   284
          anyways, back at the ranch

          We caught all the raddle snakes,
          it's not easy but it's clean fun,
          besides the children,
          need the syrum,
          it must becareful, though
          as its alergic to the anti christ, in that to..
          it was touch and go, for a while...being fingered, by it
          only the tip fell off...

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                      285
          apatch apart aplay aday

          when i got, it, i fought it,
          i gave in to it, to her, any way.
          she looks funny wearing it, i try to see it's
          humor, it is blind to, it feels,
          the heat when you look at it, how, is it?
          i do not see what holds it on, determinations
          grippes is chastity.
          yet she holds it on, it is an every day battle,
          a struggle, for
          dear is life, if ever she, lets go of it,
          she will have won, and it will have lost.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive             286
          apet perve

          pervs...you side sipped me
          headlight two many times
          uncover me
          i cannot see the gear shift.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   287
          aPOLI

          Under the moon my friend and I we understand
          that bored people are boring.
          So we left the village as I did not want the drunk
          to become to familiar with grace
          he did not posses.
          My drink is my friend as the bowl I eat
          from is also my friend.
          Respecting the bowel for nourishment
          of the body while the wine holds
          steady my soul.
          What would any one know: really I have long since
          gone yet my words of clarity strike hard
          home to the gnomes in my village who cannot hold their drink.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                           288
          Apology To Dad

          The brain is like a battery chemical
          have need electrical charge to
          breath.
          Lithium the essence of cells forgotten
          my watch stops.
          The bottom of the cage is a lonely
          place gazing up to the sky the clouds
          rain down plethora on brow.
          Beak is fixed just askew
          breath fresh.



          (humor)

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive    289
          Apology To Dr Kamran Haider

          Reason was obvious to some
          rude behavior no excuse
          humilated It is that I am..

          Sincierest of humble apology
          to you.
          please except from me.

          IS IT Poetry

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   290
          apples and oranges

          I enjoy them both who doesn't right
          one cold the other warm
          still within them a
          mystery grown.
          Fabled crown of one gave you such
          warm cozy vernacular true
          through and through.
          The glow of a soft sun ripened orange
          wind blown scent on the evening
          breeze makes you feel
          all warm inside.
          Phosphates are needed to realize these
          orbs of day and the night.
          Believe it or not the taste is determined
          by stew from our pets and cows.
          Having never seen snow I appreciate a
          good apple and now realize
          the stew I am in.
          I suppose we can thank eve for the words
          and a sweet juicy orange
          for our tans.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive       291
          are you a good wife

          I go shopping for you
          dress in rags
          so you don't
          why can't you miss me
          if you don't
          why why why.

          Jets careers
          airfares arteries
          arrears
          smear me
          in you
          more each day.

          It is not your home
          you crawl in to stop
          it's wheel
          it bogs you down
          in the peat
          unwanted mail
          dispensed each day.

          Trotting globes
          lobes
          lost in taste
          tuneless
          mouth loud in shame
          poster child all adore
          I have found
          underneaths your homely smile.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   292
          Are you really, worth stalking..?

          You see them every where, men, women
          divorced, with no one, crying of fame.
          It is terrible dying alone, goes the tune.
          So are you worth stalking...?
          No....

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive        293
          are you, sorry..

          When i ran through the wall
          i did not see you crying, so I
          am sorry.
          you claim to be a tyrant, yet
          you are as soft as the roll of
          tissues, eating your mascara.
          You put it aside, we did it hot.
          It is fine, you do not have to beg
          me, I will always take you back.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   294
          arEn J wHy Do yoU wANT tO kILL mE nOW

          Is it because,
          after forcing me to make unnatural choices
          I choose insanity just for a while
          but long enough for you to spend a quarter of a million
          are lips that move but a voice husky in wines fuzzy grape.
          Between your legs, opulence's fat decadent hand has left nothing
          but a mass of white and grey wingless stubby methane spraying
          friends....personal friends, yes mark, , you answere my phone now though your bills
          are not from pariah's milking hand..red light..
          blind me to...eating those white and grey worms...
          like sum yummy dumb tourist..laying in an emergency room
          all because the sun tasted bad flesh...never recalled..
          the truth stings more than..a...tanning bulb dually inserted
          by you both...watt; s lost in a wast land that bleeds..always brown
          never green..as once were the oaks...both now just.....stumpy..
          so sue me....my house did always look bettern yours...
          I forgot..what happens to your wife? ? ? ? ...now.....
          i am...so happy she is...ITALIAN....those Italian women
          know how to....cook....they wast nothing...with their grinders...

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                                 295
          Army Ants

          All queens, merciless hungry
          french, ageless times.
          Do you run, into them rubbing
          acid bodies? Is the big grind,
          are you sweet, only one way in.
          I saw nothing, if I tell they will eat me.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive        296
          aroom full

          shutting the door, thanking the dude this fix.
          i shake, the robe falls aside, exposing tight
          shriveled breasts once full of life.
          there are no veins left, tried every where, arms,
          legs, neck, even my eye lids.
          the spoon looses half the water, the bi lighter
          fires the coal my clay.
          thinking about it loosen my very bowels.
          the diabetic syringe, plungers back bring into
          the warm tube of night.
          i pull the pinks apart, to flip a lip out, exposed
          to the grey dirty light.
          the cavalries tighten, flushed life, passed before me.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                    297
          around that house

          as children, we heard about the house,
          we walked by every day, many of the
          kids we went to the first and second
          grade with we never saw again.
          we did not think it strange, that the families
          were still there, we were just kids.
          in the ninth grade we went in Becky, Donna and me,
          it was dark it was expected it was the strange
          smell that made the hairs start to rise.
          running out i looked down into the corner, i thought
          i saw your face.i had not seen you since the second grade,
          except for the missing pants and shirt, you looked the same to me.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                298
          As Rat Poop Fills My House

          There are no doors there are no windows
          only a throne of cheese filled with holes.
          Cusions of fragrence litter the commons
          graveled pots o stew sprinkled wit little
          brown pellats.
          Flamming pink eyes of dark be waiting
          to guide the albino owner of the great
          reed shapped raft that never floats.
          Hidden in your popcorn hoarse voice
          whispering from lockjaw.
          Traps never emptied halls filled to the knees
          little people riding bare backed.
          We have the best tomatoes to market.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive           299
          ash of ash in ash it stays

          Floating born of fire breathing air standing
          water drinks the earth......
          Origin is lost many flames desire have
          quenched our path in fires eye..........
          Speaking opens grey cinders choking puff
          of soul waters door.................
          See the edy's move as does the tide of years
          through mountain roads
          you block because of fear...............................
          Fear sits unmoving burning ashes floating back
          into a face unknown to none......................
          Guides of asking ash ash guides a word word
          of ash tasks back
          water mixes ash to fire airs earth breaths ash..............

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                          300
          Asleep One Lid Half Open

          Floating island up on high Pierette
          looking through.your fire.
          Lightning from the heaven cares it shows
          the light of peace.
          Ozone of Pierette dared some curtains
          would she hang.so none
          might see
          Almost heaven the curtains fell the
          gods were bathing in the
          earthen mist.
          Tomorrow brings another day new
          curtains will arrive today.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive      301
          asperations

          I'm drow'nt.....in you..

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   302
          at nite, when the Frenchies come

          They, the two, wicked ones,
          sit across from inside, one another
          in smiles, After all,
          is to plot...
          you would do it to if you could,
          pink they are, Yes you would.
          The plot is thick in pinks,
          you can hear, literal, liberal portraiture
          when, all four, square, such
          bunched corners, do watch
          it plop down..they blush it terrible,
          they will plot more.
          The plot, they signed is pinks,
          ink still runs wet.....shockedly..
          It, i s blind to the two,
          it still can think miserably,
          the two, Frenchies,
          kill the day with thier nights,
          as only the French, they do.
          Benjamin's Franklin,
          knows this to be true,
          French pink is face..
          Unlaced, such grace,
          when the French marble eyes, look into you.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive         303
          At the center of every circuit

          Enters an atom of births dawn
          fires free in conceptual roam
          natural being touches circuits
          electric tingles brush fair skin
          Wholly
          Freely
          Eternally
          deep in sleep within
          rising from ashes once more.


          From Suzanne To Suzanne

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   304
          at tops tip

          Feathers hand is shrouded
          plumaged cleft I hold
          breathtakingly so.
          Tense to spring unwinding
          coiled at dawn
          clings a face growing
          ever to bold.
          Powdered in rice
          is painted paper like
          in wind flows to
          space freed of word.
          Standing apart mountains are
          to see the peaks
          like two stars
          fired to burn skin with man.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   305
          aToday

          My friend the moon has fled from me this day
          hot sun to eyes must run.
          Fleeing down the path in time a stranger in this
          land of time wont dwell.
          Village path is plain to see the store where wine
          for me the shelf does hold.
          Memories washed plain from me the whiteness
          of my dress the tree it comforts me.
          Land of setting sun must run the whispers have
          a hold inside my soul will roam.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive               306
          Attila's Nuns

          I can not make a bowling ball
          grow from a peanut..
          It can only walk around you,
          watching your ink run, out the holes
          he left in you.It was not I..Yet,
          If it smells fishy, it will still bite, into
          at the word, glass eyes weep glass.
          Still it knows you had a very hard life,
          it does not lay at your feet, for your dogs.
          Still, being the other white meat,
          lean short of rib, highways of Pentecostal.
          You make it search for your superior mother,
          Attila's nun,
          that runs backwoods,
          onto the Huns sharp spears.
          Fair Helena harbors shook even less,
          when it's light house that shines in you,
          fell into the sea.
          When you stand in the sea, remember the spear
          Alexandro's, slew your husbands with,
          so you could walk the streets, uncovered.
          The sun even makes the dead breath life again.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive            307
          atuche

          Gazuntite:
          here love take my kerchief
          as it will be the closest I
          get to a kiss.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   308
          aturtle talks

          It is difficult walking on your heel,
          in the know, why I brought the turtle back
          i do not know, do you?
          I looked all over for it, it has to be hungry,
          all ways on the move, in shell, alone.
          It is the one with the long neck, in a soft shell,
          with sharp fingers, it uses one to handle food.
          My foot on her sofa, it fell in between the caution,
          I pulled back my foot, with a bloody sore toe.
          Some do thinks me from, Englished, swank designer.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                  309
          atypical control

          it is control, it is not, it is, it isn't
          accent, of motive, you recline, in.
          it is your crusty, plums you can
          dangle it, it then starves, is plums
          taken back from it, your very own,
          plum board, it is to lay, plums down.
          construe it, it will still love it, it is you.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive            310
          aUnder the tree A While

          A tree the moon, wine and I the moon and I the wine this tree
          puppets on strings to the whims of the times.
          The bark is rough on my back silk of the garment
          is thin such is a whim.
          The wit better left to the gnome: really to think because
          of the cup in my hand they would think such thoughts.
          Tomorrow I will go back or send some one
          to draw my bottles for me.
          That way a passer by wont see me.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                           311
          Aureoles

          Like being watched by your best friend blind..

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive            312
          auricles loves <it's> midsummer dream

          i may say it, i may play it, yes even
          you have felt it, in you alive, it swells,
          it is true, what you feel, is it's truth,
          nothing false,
          or you would feel it untrue, inside of you.
          you have ouched it, you have pouched it,
          you try to couch it, your way is not wicked,
          though unsure, of
          how to hide it, given time, you will do it.
          you would if you could, i know this is true,
          because it is in you, to love it.
          this is not bad, it is the great truth in you, is it
          love, how you squeezed it, loves it blue.
          this is it, this is your mind, one in a million, kind
          yes, it's a rare find.
          you are gentle, you blush it, you tease it, you swell it
          it's in you, all around it, neither it, nor you speak,
          when it passes, you taste it,
          your blush is as soft as your dream of it.
          it excites you, so wickedly, still you in your pink,
          are it's wildest spoon, a ride in it's dream.
          you in it's bed of lush roses, is stuffed in it.
          instead of on the floor, bold where you found it.
          yes, they are but words of time you wound around
          your finger in it, you blush the world in all that it is.
          the auricles of loves it's midsummer dream.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                       313
          authors pen for Regina

          Is it poetry,
          are you even more confused,
          in it.It is sinful it knows it, Yet so,
          Wicked is it in you, it always is, you glow in it..
          On a lighter note, To have every verse, of
          prose, consumed by it is, is it then would
          ask you to it, if you saw it,
          perhaps it is you, remember tired mother,
          it will wash your feet in it, for you are the Regina,
          of it, in your *smiles* to it, does then flow in to it,
          which is you.It winks at it to swell, in your *smile*.
          They beats it, and robs it, of you precious mother.
          It still smiles in you..You take it with a wave..of you.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                      314
          Backwards, into you

          I walk, i walk into you every where i go.
          I walk into every face, i look not down as i should.
          Do you even see me when I walk by?
          I see you wipe away a tear, i think it is mine, i run into you
          backwards with a big smile, just to see you smile back into
          the front that is me.
          Into you back wards it is that i walk, when i see you wiggle
          your familial walk, your stacks to my front, both talking back
          looking through glass in side words both are you.
          It is a backward walk, when neither can talk, i still love you to death please come back
          to me and walk in to my life once more.
          I will walk to the store and buy my milk, back to your front, i need to be sure.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                                  315
          Banana Leaves

          Pink blueish moons veil, lightly flowered.
          The soft twap of green leaves, as I push through them.
          Upward I gaze the dark silhouettes of millions, to closely
          resemble, looking down I pause.
          Finally, understanding, why she feels, I am so lucky.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                        316
          bandaid love

          Fell down looking at love
          puppy eyed demure
          head hung low listens
          as cool skin of hand
          wipes tenderly tears
          past fall desperate that
          loves scraped bandaid
          happened over and over
          knowing my knee is kissed
          I do this on purpose for you.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   317
          BANISHED

          How, I got so high on her
          many thorns let me know.
          Shake speared Romeo
          Juliet's gown was not torn.
          Roses cent my Darline, days
          rain blooms is petal round.
          Why did you push me, the
          thorns clown me, stop it now.
          Please, I hate using force,
          Choruses are free to make.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   318
          bare foot, i am kept

          The cottage is lovely
          i grow heavy, content..
          I chase, all the cows,
          I let them pull, selects.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   319
          barren

          Is your patch of red cabbage
          mixed with fish is good stew.
          Tasty is the salt of your sweat
          left in vinegar stain silk pants.
          Legs are best seen in a saddle
          swaying stirrups buns in breeze.
          Voice of the swan neck graced
          with the song in lake soft sweet.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   320
          Bars not Sripes

          Caged within my hope, displaced with face,
          honored grace, your hand I touched so awed.
          Living bars the music inked, spattered down, it
          made you think, tomorrow what will come.
          Floating mind is it there, maybe here,
          drifting round your place of lost and found

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive             321
          Bartered This Flesh

          Chains my soul shaken so
          slaying cowardly train
          windows known
          backing from their front yard
          here does grow shattered face
          smiling broken tooth
          howling eyes fired this diamond
          would now your finger know.

          Ancient valleys rise miles high
          molten lava tears my fears
          rushing wise forever grey.

          Tongue slowly moves words do prove
          structured face hollowed lined
          may stay.

          Etched my flesh light freely stays
          my head the sound still
          weighs unstuck all bells forever
          be unknown bartered ever more
          my soul.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   322
          be not confused

          There is the wicked goods,
          in with the wicked bads.....
          Basket is always full, it is..
          So do not be confused,
          it just is.....so sleeps your sleep..
          of confusion , ..it is ok...ok....

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   323
          Be*Upon Your Head A Crown *

          Wild was time when racing by
          stars could count the years
          spinning earth into the yawn
          nearing morning dawn.
          Seconds long minute found
          the waiting of the hand
          wanning such trembling thus
          the hour did draw near.
          Past has flown to present now
          comming of the King.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   324
          Beating up Words

          They came out unforgiven, even by me.
          I hurried to catch them, before they
          struck your beautiful face.
          Fate marched you far away, deeply so.

          In your heart the words followed, ever hot.
          If you but knew this needle, now carried,
          is to thread each word together, so none
          ever escape, as those banishing thoughts
          gone away, to repeat this history of my past.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive           325
          Beauty of a kindful spoken Word

          Beauty looks blindingly from without
          and rests within on sheets of grace.
          Enterlocking gates lays amber mist
          born of soul in warmfelt single word.
          Apples born of breath green leaves
          travel longs your hair flairs harmony.
          Undulations flowing peace felt wind
          branching thoughs of buding seeds.
          Train of root in music flute with tune
          lavish nector queen inside of truth.
          Yesterdays tommorow here today.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive    326
          bees wax

          Is it really? yours...or..
          Ears running, with burns,
          tasting of, yellow waxed.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   327
          Before I went to bed

          She called me fat,
          I was awakened a
          few hours latter to
          some of yesterdays
          hog head cheese.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   328
          before the fire

          Court houses, where secrets slept,
          many were the dreams,
          where fire ate regularly.
          Space now shuttles it back and forth,
          up, never down, out
          inwardly, in through eyes, clandestine.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive     329
          Before you jump

          Remember, to fall, horizontally..
          Verticals are just not in fashion.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   330
          Beneath Tan Skin

          Flow fires bloosd seared desire
          tan golds mold pungent wine.
          Union laid wood fine with grain
          home is the purple heart split.
          Never has buds flower inflamed
          a dam to flood stage cresting top.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   331
          Beneeth Your Foot I'm Me.

          Ego incased within pride false vanity
          mirror your mate not knowing
          my fate I could but try.
          Yearning and Burning soul forever
          learning grace would I ask wisdom
          and age bares my heart.
          Snow driven my skin moss are the veins
          lying in wait my head on your chest
          weep me clean.
          Fired is the vase mind not laid waist
          comfort inside where all can reside
          pure as the spring from within.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive    332
          Bent Bandannas

          Laying against the sharp cactus
          its loving embrace holding me
          drinking tequila my friend & u.

          The thimble is full as I ask the
          bird and indian to drink.

          The bottle asks me to leave
          taking all my friends with me.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   333
          bffaad

          Best friend forever and a day,
          you said,
          anxious i am, please stay one
          more day.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   334
          big words

          Grunt, help push, stop, but dont sit.
          The lawn will never be mowed,
          if the clouds dont stop and play,
          Stupids puddle, where is the rain?

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   335
          Bink* Plack

          Frigid stone cold flash of heartless pain
          staining windows view.
          Thoughtless dreary misty eyes lost them
          at the rocky cleft of mother said.
          Careless love freely passed around small town
          whore of thought &#1090; &#1086; nuzzle &#1072; &#1090; my crown.
          Robes of care purple hued brilliant as the
          ochre pure thought of you to sing a
          carefull song.
          Wagging trumpet mouth piece broken
          voices all on fire.
          Next we meet wont be so sweet you
          think you've had it bad.
          Trust apart it trust gone bad.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                               336
          Bird Nest Soup~~yep~eh~eh

          Strain the fluid for a meal quite good
          Laying solids different textures tried
          and true some blue.
          Bottom to the top a feel of brew.
          Oder follows steamy breath I'm full.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive    337
          Black And Pink*

          Among us none stood
          moving like magic
          gliding feet
          never touching blowing
          through air
          touching everything
          touching her.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   338
          Black Hole

          I slide by you, will you help me stop?
          I stretch my arms, nails bleed by walls, bloody.
          I look, you see me go by, is your face blank like mine?
          I have No, understanding in water, stagnant multiplied
          in and unto it's self, on top, scrapping a bottom blind.
          I can only hope she will, once more try.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                      339
          BLaCKeneD ReD BLooD

          K now I come
          open is name
          cuts in blacks
          blackest black
          reddest blood
          DRESSED bed.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   340
          Blank Page No Ink

          Book split down the middle is clear....open tounge heard fork he then ate....wave sure
          new..... what said on the beach..was true..anger hold.... fold fat gave to flame....more
          than much.... ment to you..witness thar he was true...bland to yhe land held
          name...return tot he see once again..

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                                  341
          Bleeding Apart

          Choice is not the field of birth
          lost road we try to pave.
          Heavy burden heavens mouth
          when yoked he said.
          Outside seeing up side down
          the notes are played.
          Inside looking out lead glass
          displays his part.
          Cistern made with clay in hand
          to quench his dying thirst.
          Elevation heart once fallen hence
          as then today a body calling.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   342
          Bleet Me In Heaven

          Now that ur here bleet me
          and I will bleet you..
          Bleet for me as I
          bleet for you.
          Does as much bleet come
          out when They do) it(sted
          O me.

          See How I Can Bleet With Your Mind....

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive    343
          Bleet Me Up Scotty

          No application exception unless bold
          sprit to unfold in light of awe
          all around glance through the window
          and find all that's hope in your eyes
          knowing it wise not dispise all that
          is different hold dear to your heart
          you will find that you are not alone
          here all is fine in your world..Just smile

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive        344
          Bleeting The Light

          Lying here next to you I bleeted the light.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive         345
          Bleets Do Grow

          Great show of care she cuped my bleets
          so tenderly in palm of
          soft hand.
          Swollen though they are bleets release not
          so for me.
          Heavy are the bleets no sheeps I never
          count the sun comes up for me.
          In bleeting dreams I never bleet.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive        346
          Bless A Fairy Kissed

          Gayly flying high to know a friend
          kicked to curb for living life a verb.
          Knickers proof living different world
          flame like rest a wick to sick to know.

          Order cakes of different girth to taste
          fashion shows the gowns to never fit
          Flaky wench he thought she was a man.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive     347
          Blessed Are The Mothers*

          For the tears thought lost
          never brought back
          unto thee.
          For in your home they dwell..
          For the bread your mouth
          tasted not of so your child
          was fed.
          For your blood so shed that
          we might have life.
          For the sacrifices to educate
          us at great expense to you.
          For the day you bid us wed
          from you.
          For theirs is a life of pain
          and sorrow.

          Thank You Mother

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   348
          Blessed is the sun

          Fiery grasp its grip drives me insane.
          Inside waves of cold my lips adorned.
          Every dropp of water lost have I worn.
          Resting orb pupil home inside my eye.
          Yes in tounge is never lost with young.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive     349
          blind

          My words
          lost, wear
          your cloths.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   350
          Blind*For*Days

          Turky creek this hollar liquid metal
          flowing in to you.
          Creek bed wooden chairs hidden
          all from view.
          Those varmites got in your pants
          huntun gun of shot.
          Lumber not of jack house seen
          for miles around stone made
          piller brought safely make
          your way.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   351
          Bling Your Dead

          Speeding down the road of words
          were you.
          Picking choosing long lost verbs
          mind blinks.
          Entering lost sand of time to drink
          skull cup.
          Elephant of thought I give to you.
          Defender of thought not some were
          bling your dead.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   352
          Blithering Sops

          Lay me down my soul to keep the women
          with the soap I sleep to wash all minds
          from words I want to read.
          Anthony's Cleopatra sweet encroached upon
          her cheeks did see the golden rain
          the snake made weak.
          Yale her flower blooms and may have room
          for many natured so.
          Method madness lays upon all minds to find
          a key that is
          your own.
          Entwined all thought tomorrow brought a mind
          and lap forever glows
          in pride.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive          353
          Blowing Sand

          For ever has the wind of change the
          sand to know
          Revealing to the few the future held
          in trust to all.
          Constant of the past exposed the
          sand you know.
          Trapped in glass and held away
          so none would know.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   354
          Blowing Winds

          Good bad indifferent glad
          hanging on the line
          of time washing them away
          is sad
          rigid to some soft to others
          money from the wallet flows
          to one not the other.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   355
          Blue's Blue

          Speak spoken spoke
          heavy days are past
          river slows me down
          paddles always mask.

          Stilling hamocks eye
          trailing smokes blind
          thinking shallow way
          trumpet hasten back.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   356
          Blush, I Paint

          I never knew
          how much effort
          a denuded face of color
          men to you.
          Yes we take for granted
          artificial epidermal
          pigment brushes stroke
          is waisted time
          not to you.
          Water mark is lightly lain
          upon your breathing
          shore no tears will
          wash away.
          Lines of beauty stand
          transfixed when
          pictures mix the essence
          deep inside is you.
          We make some noise we
          get so jealous
          we want you never changed
          the way you are.
          Shooting colored saffron
          precious tone of skin into
          our one tract running unpainted
          mind.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   357
          Book *

          Come to us in various ways
          some of rough hewn form.
          The uglier I find there appearence
          the more I always need.
          Gold leaf first additions pretty
          on a shelf.
          Museum piece have me not's
          something more to read.
          Onion skin soft paper rice pages
          so rarely seen.
          Thin was a tree that lust did skin
          in making of the page
          of this book.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   358
          boring routine

          Facing unauthorized
          copulation
          my head is bagged
          never really ready
          one hole only
          to breath from....
          Silent silent silent
          except for the dry crackling
          of the bag...the head boards
          sound like dry broken
          ribs....pleurisy's groan
          for wasting good musics
          organ is a wanted forgotten
          pipe unionized yet course.
          It is religion needing always
          new
          bread utterly made fresh
          when saved wretched waist
          is from
          some wandering soul to sing
          through a whistled tooth
          catching lisp this
          familiarity drags me always
          into the mirrors mouth
          checking for a fresh twist on a
          redundantly
          boring lifeless routine made
          soundlessly familiar...

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   359
          borne

          My shoes in
          thought bath,
          breathing on
          sound footing.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   360
          bottom button

          belly buttons is closed
          the middle
          loves when with a child.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   361
          bottoms up

          As I lay falling forward toward,
          a Mordred pool of clear, champaign
          I look up,
          at the bottom of the well.
          Orders of similarity disappear, rapidly,
          when I reach surfaced tension,
          this bottom is the rocky show for me.
          There is no bottom button to push,
          would I again, you would think so,
          falling up with a smile.
          I land on a living, moving,
          shag carpet, it leans in, on impact.
          I run for the nearest fold of cover, to check it out.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                   362
          boxes of so many soma

          It inside,
          are the blue, pinks, purple from
          countries it cannot say.
          It, the package that you sent,
          is blushed in tears, so many it would say.
          Each is counted numbered,
          thus in fame you reached, when you
          began your climb, from deaths past love.
          This box of hearts,
          all know the parts, that each of you did play in it.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                  363
          bracketing's at sacks her store it is

          Dear Chest in Trust,

          Utterly milkless I starve placing me in your
          chain of food be kind a bone dogs need to
          live in laps you shave to keep fleas clear....
          Saying caves explore implore a musky scent
          we leave in depths of play keen kneeds a rocky horror
          comic shore in french to idle tale it sits and sees
          the cheese we eat to chip a fish or two a day.
          Oboes played the chippy reed the bank was closed
          a holiday reposed to lay again in fields of gold and
          say we stay the day and sing again what comes
          to lips of mouth. Shopping to obtain a bracketing's at sacks
          takes most all day the sweat from heat the day wears on
          we swim in caves of fear she lays a trap to sweet to
          pass on it I wait...Lovingly its cockles taste when steamed
          learning grace you leave it on your chin a crust on upper
          lip assumes.Merry choice we make it every day when
          you come near sweet shores of evermore tides out.
          it waits everly with its affection in you once more this
          night before it's through..) it(s dastardly.nuts) it(s you.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                          364
          Brain Injuries cutting away what is you

          The past was like falling asleep..
          The awakening was a never ending
          night of terror...
          The pain in the ocean of piano keys
          is a scale never in tune..........
          The knowing of never knowing how
          makes you leap into a place of no past
          present or future....limbless I wait...
          The numbness of eating one spoon
          of my mind
          at a time never getting full never running
          out of grey........
          brings some joy...I cannot remember your name
          or your face are you sure
          it is not a mistake at the door of no knocks.
          Roofs with no air lined scarred holed to many
          found exits exist......Awake
          I lay watching as I must I am told, While another slice
          of the pie which is I grows cold....................................

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                  365
          brave heart

          Leaves thier little bloody mark
          the rest just drinks it, in shame.
          My bloody foot print brands it, me.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   366
          bread and butter to a prisoner about to die

          Me myself the i, it dots as swell.
          Wherefore then from whence,
          this butter ran unto my loaf,
          so thinly sliced,
          of bread a single day it never knew it's own?
          By it's self a single hand the bun it never held.
          Butter on my chin is thick and sure,
          it dears a naughty, buffed up smile, to cure
          this your fib, of yellow tears is worn so chaste?
          When it wakes a dairy tastes, is of one
          silken tounge that all may lick,
          around that trim, deep
          wells to milk that most may drink till full.
          Nurse, my flap is loose the wind blows through,
          why then there for does broad beams, loosed around
          your child,
          and have me sin all by myself, it's I's it dotted swells.
          With winged two feet, one band is always on the run.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                       367
          Breath Of Life

          Breathing firmament from grain
          dust you came.
          Utterance of voice now breath.
          Stillness of life asleep does
          awaken.
          Hearing thus rise dove fall into
          lifes chest.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   368
          breath shivers

          If it is winded breath
          lungs vein it
          cannot
          in gale re furl
          wraths blowing sail.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   369
          Breezes..Inbetween

          Special is the time
          moons shadow
          between spring summers night.
          Clouds fly by me at first I hide
          tickling inside the fond breezes
          beams of light lay,
          Dancing
          to say
          your name.


          tg

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   370
          brutal slit in sail

          You look through
          grey wet world to
          everything here is
          moist stilled births
          horizon of forevers
          eye to look for more
          as sail beats face
          slack dripping hand.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   371
          buffs puffed rushed rice

          Your eyes,
          yes,
          every day we paint them different,
          as is each day,
          the world Spain's it's seasons of you.
          Can your moon so high, buffed shiny,
          colored misty night, cool in hand, my eye?
          Though you turn, veiled, cloudy times away.
          Your crack of dawn, sends the bird looking,
          was it ever found, smiling at you, knowing?
          Ba-vi and Tam-dao,
          inched brushed, runs happy, singing down ward.
          You are so, Hang Son Doong, forever to buff,
          forever to fill, running inward, free.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive            372
          Bulimia

          Final homecoming a queen
          your mirror was switched by
          your evil sister.
          She loves hearing you in the
          bathroom, so you said..
          Solids comming out of your
          nose, commode is to mouth.
          Your best friend is a finger
          food, it always comes back.
          Food is your friend, spend no
          more money on quacks...duck..
          The next time your sister gets
          dumped, remove all the dishes
          from under her bed.
          It will be alright, more white meat..
          Not that from the cow.....drink milk.....

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive       373
          Burning Cold

          Sleeping deep of thought
          rising pillow head aflame
          now I turn to face the rain.

          dropps sweet tounge lite
          mask horboring shadow
          flows to pool all know now.

          Carring bundled tresures
          from your mountain home
          winding roads will keep safe.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   374
          but your big brown eye scares me

          It leaves me dizzy
          I follow it every where
          while it watches me.
          My eye
          crosses looks with it
          can it ever win a wink.?
          Ignored by post its to
          float a gaze
          across the pond is silly.
          Yet, the eye does not so
          much as weep a single
          dew of mornings you.Why?
          It's lid is hidden in folds of
          yesterdays offerings
          past her fields early dawn.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   375
          butterfly

          dances, a flower waves.
          it's life so short, wind is
          lifted up in sky, mercies.
          it's feet a flutter, moving,
          leaves, nectors butter so
          liquid, soft is cotton float.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   376
          By Now You Have Guessed

          I am an adventurer of thought
          and action to sum misadvised.
          I am the sun which burns hottest
          and the brightest but lives only one
          tenth of one percent as long.
          I would have it no other way not
          even French...well..maybe.vanilla

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   377
          C*Taking Turns *

          Short of wind your breath belies
          the dragging of your heal in
          dust we trust.

          Sweat dried sand to face
          scoured fresh blush the
          wind has made
          to know.

          Wind lifts my arms to take
          from you this gift is
          precious so.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   378
          Cafe

          Loneliness can be counted on
          but is no friend of mine lonely
          are my days I can count by the
          thousands black is the color
          pink as it flows with blink no
          more of pink unless she thinks
          about it first.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   379
          calling a dream a stream

          Bump in the night into my arms you fell
          banks a dream so it streams out far
          away with us.
          Bars bars bars filled with sand it's ours
          soft is the water reflections of you stirs
          blood is drained regions farthest from
          my heart.
          Brass horn on which you blow sweet
          music has your form mist bars await
          us practice beat the music can go on.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive        380
          Calm

          Big pink umbrella

          Never looking down
          Knows the sky
          winged grace be

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   381
          camel cheese

          She keeps me.
          Well I dont know any thing else,
          is there more than my world hers,
          in which i live my life.?
          I go out shopping,
          in the city market three times a week,
          with real money.
          I bring the baby,
          of nine months and john,
          who is three.
          I buy more diapers, for Caroline,
          there are no Waldemar's here.
          I hand John a piece of cheese,
          made from camels milk,
          his wind,
          is like the breath,
          of a buzzard,
          it must be the cheese.
          It swells in this heat,
          where is she?

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive    382
          Can The* Eagle Sing

          Bolden eye have the sky to fly
          wings are broad kiss their
          chics this night.
          Weeding prey talon spike
          in claw.
          Head goes up neck arched out
          you hear this king call out
          Missile streak across a cloud
          thats white.
          Homage to the queen he does
          fly out.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   383
          Caroline is two

          Wisps of hair,
          full dimpled smile,
          held within it's hands.
          Caroline....Caroline...
          Sun filled days,
          led the way
          down paths sand,
          to waters edge.
          Small feet pattern,
          washed,
          in miles so soft,
          it watched the river smile.
          Caroline...oh..Caroline..
          Where are those feet today?
          Do they walk in cotton soft,
          the clouds, with you in play?
          Do you peek out in the stars,
          white in glow with your friend,
          bright moon?
          Your head pillowed,
          from each stormy day,
          flows the rain to wash,
          your dreams as snow,
          it cool the deserts psalms.
          Caroline..so..Caroline..be..Caroline

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   384
          carrot in you

          No room to plant a small tuber for light
          in my garden of sight blocked of views
          sun has not known for years.
          Bulid no more root of faith through the
          cracks in time now here carrots for eyes
          to hear.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive      385
          Castles Of The Sand

          From the sand all comes picture
          paint so true to you
          some few.
          Relish home you will do have when
          child to you dose have
          the color new.
          Oceans shade the mountains view will
          bring to you
          the time you take rare color
          find in you.
          Mirror holds the view inside the soul
          of you sands forever
          cross for evever bring
          a diffrent soul.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   386
          Catching Pause

          It   is with breath that we pause waiting for next
          is   it again next that we have drawn yet gone?
          It   is the net be it your mesh filled us with song
          is   it wrong waiting so long pride of pink dawn.

          It   is the mist of breath deep driven slopes
          is   it sandleless feet souled hopes of hemp?
          It   is darkened cheeks teared meek in line
          is   it colorless mind all did so find saving.

          It   is the brightest of flame burning ever so hot
          is   it the coldest of passion fading in fasion?
          It   is the pause of time past nor the present
          is   it a future of now stilled in pause of rest.

          It is ransomed to find deep in our chest beating new.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                   387
          Catching Souls Before They Sleep

          It is frail the moment fanning patterned thought
          of maze to find receptive soul reclined
          freeing heart gathers darkened silken air
          her web the bed her lair
          Sheets of moister glisten lightly on her brow
          gathers inner being will he teach
          her how
          to climb a mountain filled with breath which runs
          in tears filling thirsty mouths
          pale her face sleep descends mounting stroking
          misty eyes stay shut
          light of soul finely threaded finds it's way to touch
          last rugged stone a graven image lost
          inside of me
          treating picture of your mind tender mercy
          be so kind to walk as one
          beside me now.
          cradled women heaven says just please don't cry

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                   388
          cause of death

          Crooner said,
          legs were so tightly buffed,
          when they opined,
          blood clot shot to her head.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   389
          chained to your wall

          I crawl around in circles chains are on
          wondering how flies take pleasure in
          watching you wash every link.
          Feeding me thirty five gallons of milk
          areolas gorged walking in drowning.
          Planning your next victim thinking about
          blinding me so you can kidnap me again
          and again knowing I am deaf....) it(s..you tell me...

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                   390
          characters in life are very rare

          The uniqueness of all characters
          stills the flavor of the wine ask for more.
          Jolly is a barrel mighty is the flame
          smoking barrel fires long gun
          where it hurts

          Folly was a name branded on my head
          drink my bed way down under
          I can fly.

          Reality dictates that due to one
          of my legs being
          four itches shorter than the other
          two take your time..Please
          may sum more wine taste to dine..
          with our swine..surreal it is
          that...I am and more...) it(s..the difference between
          a gutmaster and a gutbucket...
          ...hit the floor gimme more...
          ..you been served..don't go gettin all parinoid
          on me thinkin your worth
          these words..blues are green..like the
          eggs and the ham that you eat..

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                   391
          Cheap Tricks

          Silky smoth most words
          No ethics only win
          Who to trust Bleet!

          You.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   392
          Cheaters

          People who say what
          was found to come
          from anothers tounge
          first....>>: :) (IT)

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   393
          cheese cloth

          It seems it's a bite off,
          would you please, sew
          your hemp rag back on.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   394
          Cherry White Blossoms

          Up lifted silky brown arms
          pin prick dots
          etched
          white petals
          raising sky
          blood red bow
          Ground sips bounty floats.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   395
          chess

          Easy to learn, difficult to start.
          I can tell, usually in the first eight
          moves, if you will win, is to play it.
          It is about the others mind, it is still.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive       396
          Child Of Many Eyes

          Past was ok hard except for these was child
          overcome them I did minus math.
          To be dyslexic is not much fun words on
          paper upside down like bugs.
          Hyper activy attention disorder just what
          any Dr ordered minus diagnosis
          and pills missed that thrill.
          Racing mind hard to define bi polar
          tri polar ask mr spock
          with tricorder.
          Wiggling feet what a treat for a school
          marm no charm English teacher
          named Miz Cat.
          Moral of story is this keep your eye on
          the light and it will keep you out of the
          park with lions tigers and bears.
          Ditto paper hand in water color purple
          new much trouble did not care
          royal color of king with
          butt woopted.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive         397
          Childern X Rated

          Give your mom and dad a big hug...: : >)   it(

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive            398
          Children* Stay Good

          or the taxman will get you
          when you grow up..

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   399
          Choice

          Are as numerous in the sky as stars
          that you see in the night be you...wise
          is the word not made in anger
          of deed but a steed in calm
          like the pond...

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive     400
          Christmas Trees

          There was snow on the air and rocks
          floating up high none had trees
          they grew up not this high.
          My dad and I felt there pain treacherous
          time a bad year.
          He had wind in his sails as we set free
          to ride to the bottom
          and buy trees.
          We for got our money dad says no problem
          here out of his mouth comes this
          biggest darndest gold tooth
          I ever saw.
          Loading them up as we then flew up the
          mountain good time spreading joy
          and trees for the new year.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive      401
          cia kinda mind

          Gross Socrates, excoriated
          to run uptown in mire to lay
          upwind in kin the..CIA...........

          No, i dunna think so, not in me.
          Mine are of a diffrent soul, with eyes that see
          a diffident sky than i was told it'd be.

          I do, I did, I Romes it wide the shallow
          graves the kind that spook a child in
          sleep so deep, you drink your thumb.

          I canna imagine islands bare, words
          hollow, reed, breath, of ink that, bleeds.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive             402
          Cleaning It Up

          In time I will do all of that
          no specific order.
          Thoughts are quicker than
          the wind to be faster
          is the master.
          Intelligant order fast to the
          folder will find.
          No matter here they stay
          forever and 1 day..
          Laughter is the best
          medicine..

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   403
          Clear Sparkling Stream

          This stream is the last
          intoxified source of
          pure cool clean clear water.
          It is tumbling through forever
          waiting on each of you.
          Pull up a weightless rock this
          stream is so pure you can't
          pollute it go a head try.
          Falling asleep in it you wake up
          realizing your thinking was all wrong
          no longer do I make tears of sorrow
          instead they help feed this stream.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   404
          clearing coral of sand

          Many pieces did I gather on my beach
          of sand unfolded by waves all see
          textures these treasures to me
          to passers by as well
          I always have a piece for a bold small one
          who wishes to peak at the wondrous
          bountiful treasures of the sea.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive        405
          Clip*My*Hair

          Fair was the towe
          on my head
          now gone.
          Tragedy
          more now
          than I had before.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   406
          Cloth to a Tree

          Splitting rock is giving water a wise
          choice to flow, as birds bath.
          Beating cloth, women do our work.
          Our gratitude, allows them so much more.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive      407
          Clouds across moons face

          Fleeting Vail hidding eyes
          blush
          brushed face nights blaze.
          Passions pot marks open
          gasps
          awe beautys cheating heart.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   408
          Coincidence

          Events of life flying bye am i being watched
          i cnna see yet not blind.
          Coincidence of dog backwords yes
          maybe not
          back then different relasion ship perhaps.
          New word for me today is obtuse here
          Coincidence first was it said
          not by me
          yet it is a great complment Coincidence to me
          was it ment as insult
          Coincidence no not to me
          Dad said it best in last read.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive           409
          color of the tooth less mouth

          In my dreams, these teeth
          haunt me, is followed around, scaring me, dripping pit,
          toothless, i fall down in them.

          Yellow, white, brown, black, colors, hues of death, these
          teeth cause me trauma.

          I cry, wont they leave me alone.
          Why must you haunt my last show in this tedious grin of death that wont go away.

          They are stained with the flashy death of us all..Ten dollars..us..
          pleased to call you a friend..
          The tooth fairy missed the mark..Make them go away from us all..
          That breath, but breath left our conjunctions..in the falls of last winter in all.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                                410
          Come

          Coming with you
          if
          you will only let me
          know.
          Contact me if you
          are lost
          I will find
          you.
          With you
          I
          will have to come.
          Call me many are
          your paths
          only
          one leads to me.
          come come come.
          Hurry Hurry Hurry Hurry
          quickly faster run
          before you
          miss the morning sun.
          Run Hurry Come Come

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   411
          confession of two ants

          It looks down,
          wondering how it was,
          that she fav ed it tied and bound,
          on the other pebble this mean ant now carries.
          It is safe to assume Regina, has eat on
          the pigeons that carried it here, to you?
          What happened to the whole hog?
          It sees now the parts, some cast in it, it's other play.
          That one hand bone still plays a jaded tune,
          it heard upstaged by her, it's you.
          Green are the lollies, it is carried over once again.
          The ride is tiring, pins lay scattered, hers, it's sun beats
          in side the light, that is it's heart.
          Pitied is now the found, upon it's back,
          as it is harried to behold.
          Dumped fast, unceramoniously, up from the sand a king
          of lions, leaves it there and wisks the ant away.
          Heavenly are it, s spins inside it's noodle.
          The other ant is still, and sipped away.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                          412
          confused inside a chicken

          Laid a very small egg
          in such a large head.
          It does not look like you.
          The mirror is cracked
          I yell, scrambled within.
          Hair grows on this egg
          without legs.
          Denuded of fez looking
          the mask of taste yellows.
          Canadian bacon large as
          my head wont come out.
          Playing hide and seek with
          gel monogram is deceased.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   413
          confusion in mind laid to still

          Memories of agony
          unraveled in popping
          thoughts do flash
          windowless this world.

          Clouds rumble through
          my empty rooms no
          logic loops back unto
          its self all words lost.

          Many such visions crumble
          bricks of mind fall away
          asleep unchecked chained
          last wandering soul is mine.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   414
          confusions of Confucius

          Con fessions say every thing
          you tell me.
          Talking leaves, enchanted is
          with the wind,
          blown from you to me.
          Karen you will never know,
          she is from the other world.
          Her con fessions mark every
          rock, pebbleless without a river,
          or stream to lodge her.
          Yet your con fessions, come still
          seeking fresh hands, held up an
          offering heard, not by you but of you.
          Being herd, the tailed kite flies anew.
          Though your thoughts come from
          all directions, channeled into one they
          are.
          One falcon, your wrist hides, heedless
          shooting ever upward,
          flying strait into the eye that offended you
          plucked forth,
          it shares it with you, knowing you will
          see all that was missed, when next
          you fly to kiss,
          a claw feathered fresh in a talon.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive          415
          Conscience Dictates

          Herself she you myself continuations
          small nouns who verified each other
          to much
          without enough sleep thoughtful sound.
          Drinking waves imprints sandy hands
          cradle cheeks
          soft lined graced years
          Filling times infinate figure your picture.
          Seared branded finger touched hearts
          replaced tounge
          language woods graven soul
          worn away inside brushing curves flow.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive         416
          consumed to much dead cow

          Ashamed it is that I am..
          four pieces of dead cow I consumed
          mostly raw with glee
          happy is it
          blood dripping down chin
          like crusty the clown
          sitting up weighing in at over three pounds
          no side dish...dripping moo..moo.
          Carnivore to be or not
          stupid question
          down the road from cow parking lot
          lame is the cow whom resists me
          humble hoof cut off butt
          on table.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive         417
          controversy not dissension

          Is the quickest way into
          Pandora's locked box
          in drawers, enslaved.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   418
          cook one dish

          You burn it in your oven,
          you say it is, look cooking
          spice flavor, is international.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   419
          Could I Offend You.....

          You say I do, leaning against the
          street post ruddied skirt
          hiked up.
          Sign around your feet puddled
          dark bitters clipping nails.
          Fresh meat has long fled your
          bones, married me well.
          You give me pleasure when
          you stalk me, crazy fear
          the rest are cowards.
          Sitting in tubs of Charmane ice nippled..

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive       420
          crab

          They are so very cute
          how do we eat them.
          Great effort to shear
          shears of sweetness.
          It is, is it not hard shell.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   421
          crawdaddies

          Every one knows, The kind in Pentonville
          you will find, lol...all in tears,
          at night when all you hear are screams, they
          will find you..when you are bad, bad, bad...girls and boys...
          terrible they snip...you...clip..you..grippe you, never to let go, and
          make sauce from your mind..fancy.. tales....
          you cannot run..disbarred...so when you are bad, just remember.. they are
          comming...it is easier if you just lay there, to bite on your lip...
          while by the hundreds they crawl over you...clicking on, soft Mummy and Dada..while
          you get the bad..

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                                 422
          crawdaddies in jail

          They are served to me in
          Pentonville,
          every other third Thursday.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   423
          crime time

          Mirrors smokeless mirrors imaging masks
          glassless frame the color bends reflections
          none can hide.
          Frozen standing lifeless mostly timeless in
          side clerks nearly mindless pistol puzzled.
          Handing mostly singles a few fives change
          the picture costs of life it now comes cheap.
          Impressions digression malfeasance has
          left unhurried slowly puckered hole in head.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive           424
          cross dressers

          It wear boxers,
          as should you.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   425
          cross dressers two

          When both, people
          wear boxers, it just,
          saves so much time.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   426
          Cruddy Poems Of Mine

          I cry O god in poetry heaven for all the sins
          of the weany worms
          whom sloth in squalor
          O lord my cries you ignore while I languish
          in the house that knows only pain and
          false pleasure while secretly practicing all that
          is sacred to them while denying the same rapture
          afforded the less rectally non cerebral
          of the lower functions of the mind
          O lord my prayers of such you read and smile
          and leave happy in the knowledge
          that you knew these words before me
          besides I can always say the debil made me do it
          peace.rugged cross of my lame poems
           Are trash in thine eyes.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive               427
          Crum Snatcher Off the chain

          Yes i beg for food if i thought you cared
          i would send you my address
          but i sleep in my car swollen feet
          crampted of sleep
          sneaking in to lawyers offices to post
          these misives you ah have a care for
          a poor caucasoid lost soul of a white
          boy down on his molly malone musles..>>: : :)
          .

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive           428
          crusty little no good *%#@

          My sinuses~~snivel ~~these buggers~`swiveling~~
          eyes..beds of buques..that's pronounced bucket
          puckered this acking back no slack..how does it
          feel to know i'm under the spell of your weather.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive               429
          'Dad'

          I will be there soon is
          with mom you may sit.
          Thanks for being most
          inside her as husband.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   430
          ''dad,

          The queen ant that took
          my brains just called, she
          wants to eat more, I died.
          She is a nurse, thinks she.
          This evil, seat is electrified.
          I cannot join Evil, in a bed.
          God i know, you know, what?

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   431
          dad``~~

          The ant's are comming
          to make me play up, can
          you save me, once again?
          sshhh (I) saw u and mum.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   432
          DAD~**

          Pipe of leaf it is that smoked
          a lot of cobb your corn I
          poped with fun.
          Inside dads mind a kernal of
          some truth we all sent back
          return reciept to find.
          Pleasure cows whom think
          to drink from utters lake
          once dry forever flowed.
          Enter sand from hand to toss
          with grass such wind a storm
          of flatulence when burped the
          tast is grand.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   433
          dAdDiEs GUn

          On hands and knees, i stare through glass
          so glazed of memories, inside.
          It lays there, coiled safe inside pouched, leathers
          scrotum, waiting to bark.
          i cannot bring myself to unlock, the magic,
          waiting to bleed across this, very short distance.
          My hand lifts a violation, of all they who were
          barked upon simply waiting
          around coiled breath, a taste of metal coppers
          breast.
          i take the key again hipless, unlocking memories
          best left in the hollow tube, unspent lest the bite
          once again, render me blind, unable to taste.
          Reaching through, into the warm fluid of safty,
          i swallow gallons daily, while seeing bright flashes
          often of you.
          The loud report, is not news, it has been building, as
          hurricanes do that never pass.
          Hot searing foreign invisable, a punched hand drags
          me out, expelled onto the floor, movement of feebility
          unconsciously, tremored a last unasked breath, spent
          awash,
          in a small pool of blood between mums legs, blind...holed

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                       434
          Dali's Lama

          Why would they rush, as a bird, flushed to you?
          Some think silly, when they sing, we presume..yes we *smile*.
          You, as i, realize the convenience, of this new technology two's..
          as we serch for the minds in one...then as we find it the serch
          begins again..yes you laugh, we, the hamsters are one in fun
          on the wheels, of time, so young.
          You watch me as you have so long, watching you...your eyes
          are many, they come uncalled to view.
          Yea, even
          the dead weight of a simple atom of lead, causes dread, in
          you..as it should, it leaves us grey, ash en..this view that we
          knew for so long...how does this world evolve on a pin......?
          Hidden from view in us all?

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                435
          Dance for me

          The druid,
          Crunches bow of horn, mix es in her chips.
          She plays his harp on strings, still in song, once young.
          Emboldened shadows stay, with stones of soap.
          Wash the skin a wolf shape in a clear star night, in rest.
          Drum of mind is never hollow dance of fire, is sold a breast.
          The roman god then went undressed, inside to find.
          Mead in cup of Pan washed bamboos claim to, Li Po lean.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                           436
          Dancing Leaf

          Energy fused gently wooing hand of hand
          ground still rolling leaf of life
          it's edge is seen.

          Sharp color of lace does feather make
          our pot of sound ear with cares
          are feathers in your hair.

          Pearls in grace he gathers all your tears
          embued the mind all eyes
          such hands reach
          down to you.

          Structured twice both bought clouds are
          singing comming home
          I am to you.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive       437
          Dawns Dusk

          Westward marches shadow
          eclipse bends sky from
          blue to black
          neverending flowing circles.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   438
          day morns, cricket

          It rubs wings
          silences day
          legs do hear
          nights voice.
          Nights
          do hear legs
          ask,
          legs on wings
          sing song
          dawn of ash
          slowly
          drift together.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   439
          Dead Poets Don't Talk Back

          Mr.Poe,

          Things have not changed much since last
          we spoke.
          Words as you said flow unheard by most
          perineum stock locked at the bottom.
          I apologize again for the way you did lay
          initially undignified marooned in a street lost
          Desire.
          A cure was available simple in such vitamin B's
          rifamptin other new drugs as well..sorry again
          for wasting you on nought.
          Death even came to a south Georgian Doctor as
          well from such.
          Any way your words are the bomb now that means
          'good' yes I know most misunderstood we speak.
          Yes' I know, they don't understand using words like
          depressed psychosomatic ing brood narcissistic words
          that equal your screwed...instead of just simply shy
          deep thinking generously weak to a fault.
          They drink like fish now get free livers of girth live in denial
          do drugs you
          didn't do..plus sad to say..your words would go in
          the dictators vat of bleach...lol..means laughing out loud
          I would talk to you more but some like them short and some
          just don't care..for your verbs...
          See you in a while we can take some up and comming
          poetess for a spin in a horse drawn buggy..

          Sincerely,
          You are the man
          should have met
          Emily...) it(is poetry
          so is she.....

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                              440
          dead sleep

          Limblessly numb nothing nimble
          death reaps shell of empty soul.
          Blackest black sightless matter
          excised lights cord journeyman.
          Speck oceans void waves time
          aloft humanity runs along empty.
          Concepts in basic desperation
          of mind cannon ball backwards.
          Reaching, nebulous hand of Gods
          Death paid you a visit, in absentia.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   441
          Dear Dead Poet

          Dear Emily,

          People are saying all kinds of things about you now..
          mostly good...Sitting wondering looking at every thing
          nothing.Trapped inside what others think.
          They have made a lot of money from you they being
          them you know who..they come around when we die.
          I was speaking to Mr.Poe the other day he gave me
          your number now don't you cry..we all get lonely in time
          not immortal we try...Shortening though mirrored few words
          a smile I see now across your lips..yes it has been a while
          me to..I know, had they given to you that which was yours
          would we even be now as we are conversing..your hat
          and dress look nice..Well I still have some few problems
          of my own..words grow scare as was the wheat that
          you grew for a horse one it was that very few knew that
          you had..well...I will let you get back to that place we all
          know so well..The bright heavens night and all it's great
          glory to shine for a while as is your smile till we sleep the
          great sleep few do have...

          Respectfully,
          affectionately it is remains,
          close to you
          as poetry......
          ...P.S....Mr.Poe
          wants to go for a buggy ride.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                           442
          Dear Diary, Help me

          Today i was threatened, i was told by mizz doughty
          who knew she was crazy,
          i should write you more often.I was to busy trying to
          exercise good judgement...any way Karen's friend
          who gave me a black eye when i went to his party
          threatened me...so if you don't hear from me, his
          buddies friends of Karen's offed me...He will say
          i tried to threaten him...before today i had not spoke
          with him in years, since we gave all those low ball offers..


          22 april 2009

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                          443
          Dear Italy......on Tamara

          Dear Italy'

          My punctuation gets better but you still
          have trouble with) it(s..comma..verb is
          my wiggler..lines are your pleasures
          I..know..t) it(s crossed we drink of it..all the
          wiser..wasting no milk...) it(is hard out
          smarting.. the others..leaving covers..in
          the open..windy hair I lay in...blowing cool
          on me..put the pole in the other..hand..the
          flag will go up faster..I leave this in your boot
          on the front..by your chest..bishops point..
          knight kneels..to his queen..inside safe castle
          jill helped jack build..many pawns scamper about
          nimbly our feet now are..) it(s..lovingly
          loved) it(s you..) it(loves..to Love..in) it(

          ) it(s lovey...) it(s dovey hand in you..) it(...
          ...........Heard something about you and...is) it(..true?

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                       444
          Dear Pastor, when) i(came home

          We have been separated now for three years
          you from me myself from my wife.
          It is hard to talk of love when others hide behind
          other things I cannot.
          It is my daughter I miss kisses never given eyes
          orbs bright veiled moon sleeps bright sun peeps.
          People expect things I cannot give things some
          never had having had them I always will.
          People expect miraculous visions one I had the
          future of others that would them come to pass
          and they did.
          Pastor thank God for taking this sight from my
          grasp as I was unworthy to hold it for as long
          as I did.
          My mind now begins to dim people read what
          is not there I cannot say what they mean lost
          in your though I would yet stay for your smile.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                445
          DEAR SAFETY

          You know your
          dear is safe
          when you
          have it in the
          freezer
          and the
          wife
          is making bacon.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   446
          dear unknown wench.......you wishes

          Dear wench of wenches,

          Merry..was round as the moons in your
          slacks taken back no ex lax..the hem
          was to short..as the skirt we wore out
          ...drinking bear in my car..then went
          far.not all the way..to your house..mom
          was glade you were home..went to bed
          mom..came out..rubbed my head..lol..
          hair fell out..told a tail..moved my hand..
          took it back..than she yelled..put it back..
          on her tail.
          It was long I grew bored..brought me..back gave
          me more..I got sick..had to much..not to drink..
          all went well...) it(s..desperate..) it(s..not love
          ...) it(s.sm.ell..that winds..tail..) it(s..ahome..run....
          ..) it(s..thinking..she.is wired...

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                        447
          Dear world waiving in Waite

          Lovely you,

          It is under a pecan tree I see a face it
          is your face.It is a warm hand I hold is it
          yours.? ...Yes it is...
          It was no wish of mine to always be on the
          run, yet if you must know it was always to you.
          I only want to be on my beach of forever, to
          only look left or right and in doing such see you.
          Waves roll over me as I roll over you, sandy still.
          When can I leave again, flying low angels do you
          know as well they glide into you and live to breath
          only you...Kind world, one of which after dusk flies
          still stars peak into my windows world thats home.
          Home to you as the world you are Waite's to turn it's
          head, leaning a little to catch the scent of moons skirt.
          Little do I know of your ways, waves spent upon me
          their shore redoubt rib a shore never the less it to is
          yours...waiting waiting..sorely so..lift me up..to your face.
          I beg you..only to you is it that I would ever beg..of you...
          Do not cry falling off as I do pick me up harmed not
          of you to bless...tonight..vanitys fire burns low...so so low..
          Enjoy me as I do you...Lovingly...always) it(s you......

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                             448
          Death in a flower blooms

          Thick full bodied fear testing our breath.....
          Of rains muddy tears acting as makeup.....
          Grey dawn hidding stars soul my friend.............
          Daisy shedding blankets slumbering present.....
          Uncooked meat reminders charred ambition.....
          Flanked approaching shadows...sweeping soul......
          Loves this flower wars fertilizer now in blooms full.......

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                         449
          death married death in death

          Death looks at a flower, screaming I am beautiful
          look here I am, leave me alone.
          Death hovers, smiling, never waiting, walking always
          by, knowing
          that any thing that touches it will also soon die.
          Death is love, love is death, why are you both, death
          is your pet pink pig, a flying pearl.
          Death is a dry cracked nipple, sleeping, holding on
          to flesh untill it falls off.
          Death is a bullet fixed, never moving, why does the
          world move you through it.
          Death is a voice always quite, sounding alarms to
          walk across the street knowing you look
          and come running.
          Death is a woman, who is crazy, thinking the world is
          spinning into her coffee.
          Death to all men who think they can save the woman
          by marring death and eating her sandwich.
          Death fingered you, you loved it, now you finger me, leaving my bee
          exposed to the finger, you buzzed.
          Death's own flower is always sweet and poignant on me..
          It is always open for you to smell..............
          Red flag, alarms, still here you come, alone....to seee me get stung...

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                     450
          Death Of Your Brain *

          Beneth the little wavy wires your hair roots transposed into your scalp
          peeled back a skull opened up
          some cheese grayish instead
          of pink I think looking in a
          hematoma large beside
          some viens small inside no blood
          death insued mark the time so well.Drinking and driving dont mix..

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                     451
          death to all the adults who beat me when i was little

          i hate being alone.......

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                   452
          Death 'Waits', Lately

          Slowly adjusting mirrors vanity
          what a shame, what a waste
          such good stock, shelved.
          They cannot be quite, doddering
          cod, placed on small a lively hill.
          Executions always wait, was I not
          frequently early to most, heartily.
          Breaches four creases, early maid
          fetch me now hurry.Fleeced they
          would but tarry, impatient scruffs.
          The block, chopped chips in my eye,
          while blood ruined, my last white shirt.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive      453
          Death, a contract

          Crushed bones, ground fine nice is her shaker.
          My boots find no pleasure walking across, faces by dozen.
          Contracts sung in sin I have gained, all fit your eye.
          Once long ago in youth your pleasure, was once my pasture.
          Over time this pleasure your pasture grew thick, bland to the taste.
          Needs by me more, much, much, more.Promise kept and honored.
          My shelves grew full quickly, sadly so.
          I enjoy excitably inexhaustible rivers of milk, justly so.For one, you, I
          would settle for a mere trickle? I sweat that in one gush.
          No, you enjoy shallow pleasure, for the time that you have.
          Hearing the call of all, I enter, then leave as a clearing dream, the next morning.
          With you another fistful of bones, crushed into powder, to flavor my meals, alone.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                                 454
          death, do her...

          you have it under my nose
          rubbed
          fruit of the land none bland
          sweet peas to apricots
          plums pitied paired
          what
          deliciousness transgenders
          transgression
          tongueless
          how did they do you
          is wasted blind on
          sleeveless
          worms who have no sense
          that taste of boiled
          dirt is
          death
          could you not call me to
          show her this lottery ticket
          that won your winds of reaping
          tearing pain joints seperated
          from plants blossom of spring
          just one 0 death who gnaws on
          eternity's woman is bones gratis
          0 death we can broker deals that
          makes the strong draw back the
          bridge of winters snow to give all
          lost abandoned never claimed
          enigmas that drives your dream to
          harvest all plums in reapers reach.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   455
          death's won rose

          Memory fades
          an ash es, grey.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   456
          define, recollect

          Please, these interrogations must stop,
          they make me ill.
          Why must you always ask that?
          I cannot recall, where they came from.
          You said, they are all pink?
          All of them? Isn't that a bit odd, do you not think?
          Really all of them? ..I just do not know.
          After I leave work and go to the pub, all I remember
          are these conversations with you, each morning.
          I just dont recollect, recalling these movements, of you.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                       457
          Depression is a woman in blue

          I recline my mind in clinical situations
          they remind me of
          the blues.
          Orchestrated musical blues
          she tries me to
          play them.
          I play a blue situational compression
          couched in b dat is
          beneath her sultry button.
          Theseus feeling is repressed upset sigh inside regrets
          a lullaby she sings to me with moving floors adored.
          Knowing me is magic to hug me brings a blush depressed
          or not my southern ways forget me not I rush a manic flav.
          She works hard to free this on ion tossed into her fun alot.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                          458
          Det er sant

          Neil gang gjorde gange
          månen.
          Ingen skal snart hva
          skjedde etter at
          bare gudene vite.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   459
          did you get one of those four wiggling doohickeys

          I saw one just like it yours
          felt buttery not showered.
          Soft as moggies eyes so
          rich utters left me full this
          cow
          it is off the chain a bomb.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive               460
          different is your mask

          It must..it has to be..
          it just must...or I would
          die..alone, full of all the
          worlds new, barrenness.
          Desolate, without living
          your pain, desperation,
          after you did it, the first
          time when did you realize
          you were just chaining the
          train, over and over again.
          Never late, forever early,
          eyes open wide,
          eternity spent waiting........
          to climb aboard one last
          time, and ride,
          without a ticket...........

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   461
          Diffinition is a Lop

          A small taste bud that matastized to the end
          of a finger resulting in brain surgery.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive          462
          Digging In My Trash

          Dear: what did you find
          all you lovlies,

          Such sick little minds that you have in your
          head make me blush.
          Such is the nature of the sneaky hand that
          roams for pleasure
          while i sleep.
          Did you noy think i would not know of the
          honey gone from my pole o you
          thief of the night in your
          cave may i dwell all
          your days.
          The mountinous pears with the buttons
          the buds spray my face with
          the necter of age thats
          called milk..
          Dripping face i must flee to your cave where
          i dwell all your days in feast may i lay..
          .Lovely in you alway...) it(s in side you..) it(s

          )   it(s milk...: >)      it(

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive               463
          digging up my dirt

          Flashing past you sift into my flesh it pours
          a wreath of words upon
          that smell.
          Digging monkey finds a crack between the
          scene unfolds your
          smirk.
          Laughing loudly playing smudged a shirt you
          wear to dine the place of sleep
          you sell it well.
          Flatulence an art the wings of gulls the feathers
          part you sip the iced cubed rosey hued
          the bottom welled.
          Monkey in the tree is scraching but the tappered
          nails that always
          cut.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive               464
          dinner

          i learned how to eat from the
          table like a human being.
          i have no idea, where i will sleep
          the snow has melted, she brings
          me in, where i start to thaw, the
          dishes are just like i left them.
          taxes go up every year, soon she
          will have to buy me a new, bed.
          while become even more or less.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   465
          Directing Fate

          The head of the ant rolled
          to your foot
          what to do what to do
          I cried to his other friend
          the queen awaits your
          action now
          we put the head of our
          friend in the mouth of a
          hungry baby bird and
          went on to play.
          was it the right thing to do?
          no but it saved us an
          hour and a half.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   466
          Dirty Clean

          Dirty is the word once washed now clean.... face never washed in the sun like ice
          cream.....melts all over your top.... light is the shoe with know feat....Walk a mile with
          my hands....bling is the finger with that ring....Take it off obvious
          fake...says..Tai....2nd best gold italy mid east being first....heavy is the date with no
          prom....resiprocate all dreams do)) it((for you...now them....Light is the head with no
          brians...fill it up relize goals.....be not like me cheap date...cheaper thrills....knowledge
          is the goal golden key....long stay here...

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                                       467
          disguised

          No matter the cost in pride shame
          in false vanity leave even a shred
          of breaths fog on windows pawned.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   468
          Dizzyingly Twisted

          Look sis
          no hand to
          we
          is he
          be a twister
          to us
          this eve.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   469
          DNA

          Example..#1..You can be slow...You can be dumb....You can be smart........better not
          be of small stature in prison or they will do a rectalectomy on you..

          Example..#2..You can be dumb....It helps to be small...but you
          better run fast..if) it(s chasing you...

          Example...#3...DNA tests don't lie once the results return and..no..Katarina Witts.are
          swinging from the helix's..proof then exists that your parents were dumb..slow..and a
          genetic dead
          end and probably ate their slower neighbors.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                                  470
          do mine first then i will do yours..

          Lines are long songs short
          be a good sport turn a head
          digging here all we are lost
          world restless efforts vain
          boring is the pain never free
          pictures of grey bald heads
          blinding me making suffering
          you are to slow herded together
          black and white cows the same
          still holding patterns hot flowing
          directed no where to still come
          tell me what you want or go away
          born in lust you can have my trust
          born in sin you have to back in) it('s full.
          I don't do mashed potatoes..sorry.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive          471
          Dont You Love) it(Let Them KNow

          How you feel on this line if you find) it(s in time to your beat.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                               472
          Drama pleased you, ..why?

          Was it not enough my shame
          caused agonys cradle full.
          Waves pulse swelling in
          shallows endless breaths.
          Dark listless weeping crys
          dripping you spend salted.

          Taper blades sheathed thus
          leaving filled comming back.
          Fullness outward trust a peak
          waters lush valleys fertile field.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   473
          Drama Queen

          looking out of her eyes into
          a very strange world.
          Where privlige of rank is not
          earned.
          Of all of the bridges she burns
          as she flys away.
          Thinking the prince got
          away unharmed
          .

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   474
          Drama, on this, your very island

          Do you pay attention, to any thing other than
          cutting your throat or who laid who with what.
          Bleeding bland water your name for a band.
          So much has been said by the noun proper
          verbs missed the boat.
          Life, death, sex, money, property scandals, tax
          Boluxie bulges blues flutter south and of course
          your favorite incestuous goldleaf nefarious
          balls of magnolia steel, pillared to the mansion
          dressed in chains uncommon coin...drilling......
          can you...? ....under mossy growth..I swing.......waiting.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                        475
          Dreams Of Others

          Dreaming future paths all lay
          thread of light does guide
          our way to combing of
          the truth we made.
          Dreams of other light grew dim
          no flame to draw the moth
          within the light.
          Destiny of they who make the path
          blessed walk not knowing dreams
          do pave the way.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   476
          Drop Dead a Bed

          Dear Dead Bed,

          How do you cover my quilt on bony racks of ribs
          your pears are green with molded cheese
          between your teeth.
          Living life as large such nails when pink did nip
          the bottom of your well of chocolate treats.
          Almond was the color of a dare in past gone life
          when head board clutched your hair and lets
          not go.
          Bones in hand the ring long slid a boarded cubbard
          planked across forever wide divide I'm eighty nine
          goosed there come here for more.
          Legs quite knobbed veins are sliced from after life
          the river parts the running fawn flees from tangled
          trees in forest parts.
          Drawers in life kept all apart the wafting of the ovened
          rymed that part cannot I say dismay you crazed.
          Let me take this cracked ole bed we knew so well
          that lies in ruins castled seeps a moated motalted
          float you drank that day.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                      477
          dropp of honey

          Bee shakes, rubbing.
          bushes to run.
          Gold transparency.
          lingered is dropp.
          Caught his washed sun,
          frantic dance, so excitedly.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   478
          drug tests jail

          You thought you could beat the system
          the system was made for people, you
          whip it out while I make sure it is yours
          dope brought me to you I am probation
          officer of nightmares marry you to jail
          while long lines of low sloping foreheads
          denoting their cromagnum ancestry
          run trains shoveling coal states forever.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive       479
          Dusts Breath*

          Unkept all motes are light
          unto themselves.
          Merrily dancing with the
          beam of breath.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   480
          Eagle

          Blazing eye of claw
          Razor claw of eye
          Beaks eye and claw

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   481
          Eat more Chicken

          I do not lie to you
          why hit the bush, with little sticks
          your nest invited my
          hand holding all the birds.
          The eggs, sunny side up flipped
          cooked on both sides they run
          to your middle
          without a single trap, waiting is me.
          Why pretend with fancy words you
          know I can't say,
          I found the menagerie you let all
          the birds control
          a fired off bush is river wild with all
          the fun rapids.
          Keep the nest in the forest protected
          from hawks seeking your
          tender chicks
          for he will eat them all and come for you.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive        482
          Eaten Alive

          Words wont tell
          Ears dont hear
          Eyes do see

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   483
          Eddies soft upon Your palm

          Name of such the grasping hands would hold
          me softly to your chest the murmurs
          of a song.

          Breath so sweet a willing treat, lips do fumble
          when they meet like touching
          of the hand.

          Shore of plenty waves do wash the face so soft
          the coming of the dawn a special day
          we say to all.

          Prints we leave upon the sand that all do tread
          never lost for most are hard
          to find.

          Open mind the love of life we mind like kind a
          spark of light in eye your mind your beauty
          I have found.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive             484
          Edgar Rice Burroughs

          The ultimate explorer of peas in a pod evolved
          exacting exhilarating experiences
          entering exotic extrapolations
          experienced
          villagers aided the fall alone could kill him.

          Saps can be good or bad in a mind it can be a
          trap on the ground well only Betty was more
          unkind she bore ye well.
          A flipped burger is a well rounded treat of
          discriminate proportions to be well worn.

          Some things have to be retooled while
          others burn in the fire of redundancy.

          Also if you catch fire in the middle of the night
          smoking who will put you out..?
          Some times spontaniousness is the best way
          to start a slow burning fire no flames
          to blame tomorrow.

          A good writer can invent a new word at the
          flip of a thought.
          A lopricroscity is a delicacy to be annoyed.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive               485
          Edge Of Forever

          Over looking time
          Existence of thought
          Brink there stand

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   486
          Egale And The Rose

          You are the eagle.
          I am the pretty, pink rose you grasp in your talons.
          Your grip is firm, though my thorns prick your scaly skin.
          I am a flying flower!

          Together we grace the sky with strength and beauty.
          Together we symbolize the all-seeing eye and the eternal offering.
          You scan the land for signs of distress, disturbance, discontent, disaster,
          Swooping down only when the need is dire,
          Proffering me only to those with no hope left.
          Telling each forlorn soul to reach out and touch me,
          Assuring them that it is Acceptable to pluck a single baby-pink petal,
          To keep in remembrance of our visit,
          As a reminder that someone was watching,
          Someone cared,
          Someone is there to hear their call.
          No one is ever alone.

          My petals are special.
          They never wilt or tear.
          An eon could go by,
          And still each would be
          As fresh and fragrant
          As when they were attached to me.
          They carry my essential essence.
          They exude motherly-love.

          You are the deliverer,
          In more than one sense.
          I am the gift.
          Together we bring all hope.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                         487
          egg searches for truth before some do

          The second choice I make
          cannot be
          to undo the first one
          thier is nothing noble
          about the spear which has me preform
          circus tricks
          yea:
          even before my birth.
          Some people do anything for a buck like
          make other choices before you are born.
          Thus: I may walk through the valleys
          that fears all evil
          the third choice I make is warily tread
          with care the thoughts of all others for
          some will and must need to cause harm in me.
          Verily: I say unto you,
          Do I come to you after she whom you in trusted
          with me
          spends nine months abusing me of the womb
          I ask thee: ? ...Pause: ....(to think, about it)
          what is thier to think about, did your laws protect
          me of no choice asquith I most humbly of thee: ..?
          No! ..no one thinks about I, it is, I am you see...
          Be ye.noble of mind kind of thought to me
          cannot you understand this of me
          before I am born.?
          The line himself a thought of the norm no thought to
          he whom is I would make
          such choice once made is clear.
          Being free of pain conscious bears the truth would
          you hear..?
          THE TRUTH TAKES THE PATH OF LEAST RESISTANCE.
          Can I choose any life over that of a dead one...? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? 31/03/2009

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                            488
          electric socket

          eyes roll up
          tremorless
          i explain to
          no one, fear
          to be heard.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   489
          emo, he is

          i cannot be you, i can only see through you, into you.
          i see what you do, with her, with him, your self, on me.
          i see you from the package, you never used, until now
          abused to cut, into me, when the splash, is you, in her.
          i see through your mirror, you kissing you, how you
          do it, to me, to you, inside running from me.you can't
          see the blue gash on my head, i see you upside down
          on deaths head, the blood dropps rip up through the hair.
          your slip once pink, now clings wet, from the sweat
          of abuse that she slings upon the wall of his shame, yet
          once again the wooden plank slides between us to gaze
          onto the screen of loves, troubled graze.your blackness
          is her day, her cat is your friend, wear him in deaths, last kiss

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                               490
          Emotions Words

          Winding through the human soul
          emotions since time
          forever more.
          Inside the life of light growing seed
          of soul blends all light emotion
          strength of soul vibrates
          resonates grows
          bold.
          Nothing as strong love hate sad
          happy pain and numb can
          alternate burn middle
          the road.
          Deference in knowing I cook in my unassumingly pot.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                 491
          even ants use pens

          It weeps true, now
          inside head of pin
          ant holds up to you.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   492
          even if you do know

          Good is for my angel
          bad is you knowing it
          proofing my windows
          you all do now see is
          hardly news evidence
          you just cannot know..

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   493
          EVEN JUICIER

          That the secret about you is real
          you live in constant fear of mirrors
          company is a stranger family much
          much stranger science will prevail.

          Showing up at work is harder than
          the job trembling starting to leave
          wet foot prints where ever you go.

          Being as you are you finaly get the
          gun out load it fire a warning shot
          go back to the mirror and look
          raising the gun pointing it you order
          the mirror self to tell you the secret
          about how you were able to get here.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive    494
          everyone digs

          In my back yard
          for information.
          About no one
          but themselves.
          Hidden mirror
          to deep inside.
          For anyone else
          to get a picture of.
          Flash bulb goes off.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   495
          Everyones Breath The Last I Breath

          Bounty of your love in breath
          waves set me free to sea.
          Oceans winds they trail in thought
          your guff of air was sought by me.
          Under currents flash with scents
          can't mask a petal lint or breeze.
          Natures wisp taught sail will O's
          tast your nose would tease me
          still of chest.
          Thunder bay long lightning parting
          panting eye of life.
          Yearning catching breathing seathing
          leaving air spills free on keys accord.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive     496
          'EVIL'

          Evil, is to hunt 'you.'
          smell you.
          Nameless is 'EVIL.'

          EVIL, ...unawakened
          slides inside 'invited'.
          Out of reach, TOUCHED
          bloated within your womb.

          EVIL, sweats you out, in taste
          reaching down you check.
          Trembles, hand in night, is to
          dawns wasted light, in wait
          sucking you inside, to rest.

          EVIL was it, 'you'it's eye to
          weep 'milky'you hunger, it.

          EVIL, will not wait, forever on you to
          reach down, close the fold, it's now.
          EVIL will never be satisfied, with one
          you are 'EVIL'drawn to all that's EVIL.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive     497
          Excuse me, could that chick be a dude

          Vice versa in this weird Poe'sh world
          pendulum swinging
          age one day
          dying the next neutral
          causes
          imagine that
          Dali's salvation of more
          yelling at me like you are going to change
          me into you
          to savage and
          abuse
          I don't think so you awful yellar
          of chicks who could be dudes Bertha versa's iced vice.




          Truth is deicated in
          haters of both
          always lost.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                    498
          exspeculations

          It is not hard, a walk
          down your street after school,
          kick a can, whistle Dixie
          sing by my watch, for that
          errant butterflies eye, glass case collection on
          hot muggy days, with today's exspeculations.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive              499
          eye saw your separation from me

          eye
          am even more ashamed
          of me now
          how
          do eye tell you that
          and have you believe me
          here
          eye plucked one of my vowels out
          it is in my palm see
          can you
          it is for you
          can you guess which one it is..
          touch my fevered mime one more time...ooohhhh

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive           500
          Eyes Never Close

          Movie screen of lidless eye
          transposed to metal staples
          in my sheek sleep does not
          return my mind it dreams in
          screams with deeds undone.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   501
          Face Of The Poor *

          &#1052; &#1086; &#1090; &#1086; &#1088; &#1089; &#1096; &#1088; &#1080;
          &#1092; &#1090; no understanding scantily
          &#1082; &#1083; &#1072; &#1076; their children
          dirt scuffed face America not some
          late night Sally Struthers infomercial
          compasi&#1091; n of the old in their need
          helping in homeless shelter
          bread from their mouths for the young
          picture views
          You
          words stir the pot no news
          children helping children
          they know something that the real
          somebody's know nothing of
          ashamed I am and full of guilt
          when I see them thus
          stiring the pot for each other.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                 502
          Face Of Wood

          Branches heart reflected on leaf
          scratched skin mirrors it's bottom.
          Standing with the breeze translucent
          perched branch here now waiting.
          Invariable to none passing on sitting
          the air filled with lines flows to dust.
          Breathing hairs vined memory lane
          this heart worn above the thick bark.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive      503
          fall leaves

          Seasons turned away, again
          I, watch them fall, leaves drift.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   504
          Falling Free Into

          Freedom of all I knew until I met
          your feathers angels roaming
          charge in charms.
          Restlessness stilled this beating
          heart tenderly surrounded
          incompassing me
          forever.
          Eternally drifting through you on a
          boat made of one
          single feather.
          Eagerly awaiting the merging wing
          tips as souls entwined
          become one.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   505
          False Fears

          The world has always been unkind
          to people who do not take care.

          The world does not care for those
          whom are mean.

          The world has no time for you who
          are stuck in fantasy land.

          When some reach eighteen maybe
          younger you will fight and die.

          I wish that wasn't true but it is, some
          things are easier to fix than others.

          Retarded in ways I am, for sure yet
          knowledge of words every kind those
          on the walls of the play grounds
          signs of gangs around you.

          Their are those who live in castles in the sky
          they have their nail done in the buff soap
          tastes good to some not me.

          They are prudes, hypocrites, naysayers
          running around ordering those with
          magical words to have heads loped
          off to bath their fears in the blood....
          of ignorance.

          They are afraid of you not me I am just a
          homless person who drinks tea....

          Clone your self control freak...No not you..lol

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive             506
          Familial again

          You pulled
          the trigger
          It's suicide
          gunsmoke
          all over you
          taken again
          shamelessly.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   507
          Farting cartoons

          If you dont watch...t.v.then change the channel.
          Ask your kids they know every farting sound
          these cartoons, seem to make.
          South park poo's my gold I never take...lol....
          wafty clouds the ordered ode rs colored vibrant masks
          of chocolate truth and dare
          seems to be the daily average care the joys akin..
          Sitting couches comfy is no sin to bottoms up to spray the air.

          Could it be there wholesome cheesy diets........

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                             508
          Fast With Me Viking Woman

          Hair blown wild bronze brazen
          when you call my horn you seat
          it well iron fist.
          Land of ice and snow the powder
          blankets all we know this
          is your land.
          Fair of face gold this women finds
          in heart to hold me in her grace
          land loving arms that drive
          my soul.
          Come to me cross frozen sea no
          moss we gather at this time of
          year to seal our home.
          Your eyes a molten maze to guide my soul.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive       509
          Fatal Attraction

          Chemistry so thick you taste the metal to the quick
          electric felt by all who dare to touch fresh meshed
          beware a shock.
          Sexual tension bright enough to blind the
          average man the woman grabs her
          knees she shakes.
          Tongues as thick as ropes a deserts day is
          never done then comes
          the night they prey.
          He is woman she is man roles reversed they
          play this game is new
          than ones before.
          Nothing gained they grow insane no other partner
          can ever do or gain the upper hand
          in death they part.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                 510
          Fate*

          Carefull yes those words resound inside
          our daily heads
          as the ants moved off insingle file to find
          that lost crum of bread
          ner'er to the holes narrower and narrower
          path to get them there
          two abreast were some with no clue in
          the world
          bump bump went that thing digging in
          the dirt
          the moral of the story is dont push
          your friend in there.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive         511
          Feel The Bleet To (IT)

          Weak in thee knees you Grow fire wench
          pulling on you mane from the back as
          you like that knwe you did...Bleet to me
          as free.....as is so....made your bed
          as is want all the time
          where i dwell
          on the top....Happy are you to give unto i
          flowers scent more will grow garden got known
          cross the land as the best
          i know well..leave no rock evvrt more so
          unturned no not i...Blessed is she to dwell in
          house with *(IT) * more so known than not.
          Bleet to i my fairest of the fair bleet me up
          bleet me down
          to the ground you know well make those sounds...
          .blessed is the bleet of your face...

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive              512
          Female Nutcrackers

          Residing in the south
          they are loath to steal
          the corn I stold for you.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   513
          Fence Of Sun

          It is another life I died in the other one
          the same way
          but while I yet have breath I
          write these few words.
          The bottle was full in the Adolphe I
          met this beautiful women.
          We had a few drinks a lusty
          drinker I am.
          I do not know how she got me to
          another country naked
          as I am.
          Arms wrapped in barb wire draped
          through the wire impaled on a pole
          looking at my ex-wife.
          That's how I came to be here
          I dint know how.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive        514
          Finally I Understand

          You realized you deserved every
          thing you never received
          but forgot to ask for.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   515
          Finding lost Thought's

          Your jars are like mine on the table
          looking past lables, brows knotted.
          Potted in a vase, therein directed,
          mind of flowers, freeing emotions.
          Feelings through the jars, are all,
          colors fly to eye, women mend.
          Roads of complcation derived,
          rest in now, simplicity set free.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   516
          finger food

          Modified phonetically, it is a country singer.
          Chickens, plucked from cluck to lay, is soft a gown.
          Country folk, of simper fla've last to grow thier own.
          Caloric intake city prawn, kitchens hold the keys to shorter life.
          My stem celled finger on a string, lowered down my throat
          it loves to sing, before it greets the feast inside.
          Deep within the finger black hole winks into the night.
          Consuming every thing in rest, to feed one stars, black heart.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                517
          Finger on my neck

          I wear it there, on a chain it's
          to keep me from getting phat.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   518
          Fire

          Sleeping dreaming your hand
          wanders down across the
          softness that is your
          stomach.
          Winding down across the
          down of fine soft trees
          to the heart of a
          blast furnace.
          Burning your finger you
          scream out waking
          the dew of beaded
          drops quince
          the fire.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   519
          fire is to touch

          Red eye, love flight.
          Lottery one number.
          Gift giving, to wonder.
          Always, touching fire.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   520
          Fire to Ash

          Such were your eyes in spark you could
          not know then now as you do.
          Fierce face of youth in children the photos
          yellow now one in three gone as you.
          Paced white blanched narrow wood now a path
          I hurry to what....a sad ending happy yes happy
          the bones of comforts dust as musky as memories
          I have shed as winters rook wanting more than is in
          the shinny button years of fear that you have grown impatient
          with me this old coward of one hundred and seven you have
          come back again and are again a mother of three.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                           521
          First act, a Reparation...

          Reparation, the great sin, divides in all.
          We named her daughter, Remembrance.


          Dedicated: to the Gold lady
          Who never forgets, I'm lame.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive        522
          First Impressions..) Thirteen polititions feel they(......

          Are not that important
          erections left inside
          discretions
          are the ones you will be
          remembered for..? ..) it(
          ..knows..where you left..) it(..is..plurels

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                        523
          FISH BREATH

          Is having only
          the bait
          left in
          the fish at hand
          needing five more
          fish
          and both
          hands
          are full.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   524
          Flaming Love In* Passion

          White hot comes to you do wail flailing
          gnashing of those teeth tongue you
          bite to still a muffled sob.
          A dropp of blood you taste inside your
          cheek whispers breath the shean of
          sweat it listens on the moon of eyes
          the shaking of a toe.
          Streanth once had is bleeding out as
          metals precious hold would you yet
          knowing now when deed is done
          there's no going back for you.
          Flame of passion white hot spell
          on you.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive     525
          Flatulence's Fury

          Uncommon sleep so deep it rips
          a sail in side a sheet.
          Tearing painful slice on side of tail
          blood thrones to keep.
          Beano flees the scene of crime a
          painting filling all the canvas morning
          run.
          Smelling face in awe the damp adorns
          sweat note I cheer.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive     526
          Fleeing To The Sun

          Flaming passion hide me in
          your bosoms fire.
          Knowing they will future stars
          with me.
          Fire tonight I sleep the sleep
          of peace.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   527
          Fling In Your Park *

          Furrys smother hound of fame held name...hasten craven thus was game...pickin
          fueden padden garden path...flowers scent on you not funky same....nuzzule nest in
          tender of lost way... grunt of plseure oftn leave those lips...beady sea of sweat all now
          do see.....fuzzy yes a creature must u be....brilliant blinding orbs oh green... leave a
          parting heart fully impression thus is you...) it(sure my mind i always gave to you....

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                                   528
          Flip Of A Swith *

          Running fast slow me down
          inbetween on top some
          ground hear the sound
          foot on pebble flip that
          swith now its gone.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   529
          Footbal In My Cave

          Church is done humbly my soul not forgotten.

          My bones of the barn yard buzzard now at my
          feet breezy fingers wiped on back cheeks
          the world of us primates now resumes so
          to speak with game of the cave man none
          are meek.
          Crashing thuds of bodies in crush on the hard
          edge of caution my cheeks long have griped.
          First downs touch downs second second
          reason by way of insanity
          better than sex some here now glorious is the gun
          when we win....
          eh eh you thought I would slip and you grip by telling
          you the name of
          my team...: >) it(s real foot ball oh yes wedgie from my seat when I stand up.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                            530
          for a teacher

          teacher o so wise all do cry of the
          bounty sweet words flowing ever
          from your lips.
          teacher of the bright lights in brazil
          such students are thrilled by
          your love of them.
          teacher so skilled wayward not the
          path you haven chosen
          to share.
          teacher high in canopy tops from
          the winds your hand does hold
          the keys for tomorrow.
          Teacher, its me now, I am full of you,
          still you must teach me more, I waite..

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive     531
          For C T Heart

          Whisper is for you to choose of law
          no beauty juxt transposed exfact
          O nought where law does flow
          none know.
          Emergeny rooms save lives all know
          beauty in body grace to flow
          to eyes and minds
          would grow.
          Dr fast decision on the bed of life must
          choose in lite chop chop in words
          you saw no flow.
          Poetry or prose to me none know fast
          flowing life in ear this room I chose
          to grow with help from some.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive      532
          For She Whom perpetually Sings

          It's a brand new day
          For new hopes
          New dreams
          New thoughts to pen
          New hopes to make life worth while
          New corners to turn
          New smiles to smile
          Rise up
          To greet this day
          Touch the hand of a friend
          Along the way
          Let your laughter ring loud
          Like the roar of thunder
          The write a poem
          To be tucked under
          Someone's pillow
          Tonight.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   533
          for the bashful so it is shy

          With three men to pick from
          you would decide your self,
          and never love a choice it, once cut?
          Mother in grace it rests with thee inside.
          To hide it, to fight it, you would try it,
          you would, why deny it,
          if your true to you inside your self.
          It brings it's pouts, for those it's sorry,
          why do you ever not ask why your full flushed lips
          seem to flow that way as wine from a grape
          into your mouth.
          You bow the fiddle true in thought and prayer,
          most will be in tombed called holy ground as water
          passes by there damn they never knew.
          Denied,
          must hide,
          the sour prim faced looks from they
          of morbid mind,
          haters of the man in side of it you love.
          We hide from them.
          It does not like being burned inside it's steak,
          you loves the most.
          As for the other, of he himself or her..
          carefully of the curves, those trees grow large..

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                534
          Forever Names In Time

          From then to now all names will bring
          sweet memories forever locked
          in me my soul does find.
          Owakened springs each memory trees
          you sing my soul to sleep
          so none do weep.
          Rewound through me the future seas of names
          you are I do recall the grain of
          sand we are.
          Everflowing oceans once berift of shroud
          nape her neck she
          does so bare.
          Vanguard are the pits the void of memories
          there cant dwell reclaimed
          lost souls.
          Eternities sweet Queen of find brings up today
          what none tomorrow
          holds.
          Yellow sun upon my mind forever hold your
          thoughts forever bold
          most kind.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive            535
          forget it is a peanut

          Memories grow up.
          It almost was what..
          that little bit of..what....
          It almost fell down off it..
          jacked......................up..
          it feeds another peanut
          to the elephant in youth..
          Elephant remembers it's,
          face even blind, as it is..

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   536
          forgive me all your sins

          I bath in holy water
          it burns
          where you touched me
          why?
          I trusted you
          you broke the rocks in my garden
          why?
          Your burning spreads my mind
          it is
          such a simple mind
          you touched my whip
          uncoiled it searches you out
          it knows of
          your sins they drip fall from your hair
          as do the stars
          countless heavens door ajar
          cascading shooting moons
          soft face
          scorching mine passage of
          flame
          may be your right
          defenseless I am
          against your
          sins
          my eyes are yours to see me
          beneath
          waters cool mist
          living springs
          I flow
          washing scrubbing
          pales that are yours
          trees are fruit you bore
          in me
          giving my palm
          you filled
          thinkers tireless
          lustfully capturing
          you your sins
          in me I am yours so full it is
          as they are delightfull
          you say I must bear them all
          reaching for them
          over and over again your
          sins.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive     537
          Fragile *

          Thoughts to words will be some hairs
          when running from the wolf as words
          to gobble up magic window in it's
          world of panic could not see when
          gripped by fang his final word the
          hair could only bleed.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   538
          Fragile Gills

          Breath has its hold on me it is a
          sad condition
          one not of the mind
          but necessity
          as the the foot needs the toe
          water must I have to breath
          plea to the ear that seas.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   539
          Free Graze *

          Cowboy lonely is the trail on
          so little sleep pushing
          mindless bovine through
          rivers chalky plains water
          floating in the sky
          quenching ones thirst
          on the blood of
          rattlesnakes feeding cactus
          pulp to youngest of calves
          marching forever forward
          to reach some town forever
          away towe is my head from
          the sun warping my eyes
          false is some distant lake
          taken so many lives
          will not die.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   540
          free me

          It doesnt want to be free,
          from any one,
          unless there mean,
          abussive or a nun,
          with good habits.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   541
          Free My Soul To Roam

          On the lap my mother singing lullabyes
          to me don't let them take your
          soul so sweet don't let them
          take your soul.
          Mother words so wise to me this life you
          gave to me
          nightly visions had of me
          of trouble yet to come.
          Wisdom words brief to my deaf ears
          they fell upon no sun
          deaf ears they
          fell upon..
          Looking back amongst the tears
          looking back no tears
          creased burned narrows down my face
          I listen mother dear..

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive      542
          Freedom*IT*My*Soul

          Beauty vision weary shirt viel roughshod
          small feet I gave to you.
          Virgin marble pink one color veins across
          my face all know.
          Bringing wool this time this year thinking I
          will change this place you fear.
          Vestiage hope the faith O small betrayed
          he was by you.
          Bright no call in night this soul berift.to you
          vanity no shame your stead of truth.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive             543
          freely it dissociates

          It is the gift you pay, in heavy,
          lost is gray for.
          Abuse, of self, others you shelve
          resting in some ground, burned
          or donated to university.
          A few live,
          you are yelling,
          it's eyes stare lost in side it's void.
          Your voice a dim buzz,
          your lips move so slowly,
          like thin strips of clear spotted liver.
          Again looking down, into you,
          wondering can't you see it is, not home?
          Thus it must, is freely dissociated you.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive      544
          french kiss

          Deep in your neck
          phlebotomist first.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   545
          Friends and You

          You being I friends being you
          knowing we together grew.
          Fashion and passion found
          living on our promise here.
          Growing in years loving all
          fashion changed our running.
          Seconds clocked in counting
          changing of all the guardians.
          Facing now nights window light
          together in life we shared it all.

          Korn

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   546
          Friends I thought To Me

          Knowing not the iner workings of all ways
          in such a thought
          from me.
          Never thinking hardly sleeping weeping for
          the silence of all days
          so lost to me.
          Oceans rivers currents bringing all in time to
          reach a mind in
          simple need.
          Willow reachs to the sky branches bare for all
          my mind to
          sea.
          Solem are all friends I hold my heart would he
          much gladly bleed such few
          have seen.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive            547
          friends we have not met

          You pass them never knowing the acquaintance
          of this particular individual has not yet
          been made.
          Sighing: What is the sum of there individual uniqueness
          I try to keep my eye turning on today, Some of what
          yesterday has brought me is here on my plate.
          Maybe tomorrow is predicated respectfully to some
          degree on today while choices of today we base on
          yesterdays of the past
          Seasons come yes they flow of choices on our very
          life what do we really know.

          c.e.mcl.~~22~12~2008

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                     548
          From Her Hand)              It(Dripped

          Haughty from golden eye of pan
          the silver drips from hand
          in sand to sink.
          Inspection grain was that of purse
          held nought but golden slippers
          shades of purple kings.
          Pastels blended hues of morning night
          of colored sand the
          fishes knew.
          Song of Solomon buried there in sands
          of legends time the
          centaur fled.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive    549
          from your lips pour honey

          Musical talents your angel is wise
          for the heavens with taste lent you
          graceful thoughts never to hide
          now playing them all.
          Lips that he holds maybe another are
          blessed with a finger to
          trace them magic
          flows.
          No my poems arnt magic my words
          will never loose you such as when
          I hearinto you now.
          Yet you do me great wrong thinking your
          beauty of song sends no sliver of
          light through my soul.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive     550
          Frozen Out Of (IT) ..>>: :)

          Blosoms beauty in my mind for you
          does dwell at time of sleep.
          Tolling of the bold when
          lay awake.
          Many are the days living lives
          I am to.
          A writter of drama I am not so what
          loving all through words instead
          of body is so new.
          Rivers rushing through the canyon
          is so fun..been there
          done that..
          This to me is still
          so true.

          Through you.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   551
          Full House

          House of the holy no water to spare...Drink to the lions...Christians may forever know
          peace.. Spanish inquisition knew so well....All my ancestors dead over there...Women
          tied to a pole... donkeys brought out use that broad vast unfettered
          imagination.....over in rome the arena way back...tonight history lesson as a child of
          eleven i knew...thank you mamma long train though you knew....curtain of coffins the
          lions did chew...gold was the palm polished so...caligula's roman ceaser you
          knew....bow to the holy no room at the in.......wise men from east knew more than
          them, , , , polished so... was the cedar clear..linseed oil better then myre.brought us
          around to the house of the holy....full house beats a pair touch you hair...(IT) I

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                                 552
          full moon

          Is grace? hidden,
          cotton, tinkly flushed,
          radiating so brilliantly,
          not through all around,
          it is her silk canary,
          her veil, high up into
          one cheekily ,
          cloud spun, around it.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   553
          Gates Of Heaven

          Heavy is the door of my soul
          may I come in.
          Knocker made of flame never
          tame mayest thou
          receive me.
          Star was I sprang from your
          eye shelter do I seek.
          Fumbling at the latch fingers
          humbled are so weak.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   554
          Generational Latin X Lost

          The words are never confusing
          like your words are to me.
          Love is not a word to me, am I in
          this for sin, or just you?
          What, am I to you?
          Do you love me?
          I would settle, for two bit Italian from you.
          The words are never confusing.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive           555
          genus Sialia

          She just cannot help
          it's flight, so high, it's
          unplugged, his books.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   556
          getting past daddy

          It is never the right time to ask,
          didn't he sweat yours?
          So the best cakes were,
          kept behind bullet proof glass,
          in fear of daddies payne.
          It was,
          if he wanted more than that,
          passing world a spinning view,
          a split from pies
          he never knew, running out to play.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   557
          Ghetto Fare

          Grateful are we for plates paper fare
          fuel pens need to be heard and seen.
          Winters fare needs no heat beating
          hearts Ghettos soul of frozen coffins.
          Upon each brick a name saying chiseled
          ice cubes of tears to warm a moaning smile.
          Cacophonies plethoria racked in loathings
          momentous charges carry glorious dreams.
          Twilight's lecherous airs folded in your hand
          discarded to lay underfoot bleeding sorrows.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive           558
          girly MakeUp

          Will you show me how the make up
          works to hide this lobotomy scar?
          Wern't we friends, Doctor?
          I cannot remember things any more!

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   559
          Give it up

          For the fisherman) it(does know fish

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   560
          Giving First

          Make Me Last? .....I Weep.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   561
          Glass made of sand

          Webs of space flow deep in your mind
          is as the giant sun thoughts so pure.
          Inside this heart beat her new love
          spreading time through a stain glass
          window kept clear.
          Fanning dense smoke made of dreams
          women of sand lifts painted smile once
          more to you.
          Eternally the flame burns hot sand streams
          with color mixed hue
          dressed on you.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive        562
          Go Rest High Upon The Moutain

          In snow soft blanket in water of my life
          does wash to sea.
          Nothing prepares me for the way o cup
          overflowing gifts to bring
          of praise.
          This an angel from the deep so whispered
          with her tears of flame
          to me.
          Outside looking into grace I sleep.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive      563
          Gold And Money

          Hello lovelies,

          Golden are the nuggets on your tongue
          this morning..you thought I forgot about you..
          heaven is for the patient of virtue and yours
          is gone into the cave of golden dreams
          of boulder size nuggets of gold where
          I do keep them safe in you chest of milk so fine of taste..
          Money from the sale of the nuggets Is safe as well..
          though I fear the rest of our nuggets have been seized
          by unscrupulous police as they were found at mickey d's...
          golden is there hue..for you in glory of us to eat when
          next we are there..untill..lovingly..I always..
          am in you...always..) it(s food..: >) it(

          ) it(s in you to..: >)

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                         564
          Gone On A Lark

          Moons soft glow radiantly cast
          me down upon soft arms
          lapping waves your
          water knows.
          Hues fragrant bloosom lays
          upon your soul.
          Breaths light upon such halo
          glows.
          .

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   565
          Good Dreams

          Happen every night..with you..

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   566
          Good judgement passed for you

          Sanity's price is counted
          doubled coupon mind
          discounted fallen me on
          rocky shore
          Lush island paradise once
          found to garden wise
          last call a tree.
          Warnings gail many called
          to blind to sea.
          Filling parting troubled water
          casting mind to drift inside
          a love I bought in thee.
          Plucked in heart from my
          chest to suck liefs very flood
          a now to pass your idle time.
          Flown on wing to tired I sing
          your tune in
          words of stone in
          store a head will ring
          the long lost song
          in score in soul the one who did no wrong.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive        567
          gossips

          when I 'ear soft lips,
          at my ear,
          severing the hair within,
          I become,
          more than a bolt tightened

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   568
          Gotcha

          you can read
          my lips
          you can't read
          my mind.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   569
          Grace To Thee

          Walking alone the beach I came across
          this most amazing silver haired citizen I had
          seen in a while.
          The beach was long for miles he had
          this great smile he stopped and young
          friend to do to do looking at his right side
          of chest tanned bronze it was gracefully gone
          surgically removed swan song he still sang.
          Walking away after brief exchange some of
          these shoes of yours will never be filled.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive           570
          Grasping A Grainy Picture.

          Grasping at dust blown back
          my hand forms a found word.
          Lost shelves books caverns
          solitude years of touching.
          Burials march to infinity breathing
          thoughts filled by a simple bowl.
          Clinging fingers clutch hopes
          parting page now revealed.
          Leading into a thousand directions

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   571
          grass is more soft

          Sun peeks, clouds pushed
          by, is morning.
          Grass soft sweet, dew,
          it washes my feet, in.
          I walk, so in quite, breath
          mine,
          birds passed, still sleep on.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   572
          green grass

          Back in the day,
          way back in the day,
          one might wait even a month,
          for the chuck wagon to appear,
          back in the day,
          gone back now,
          long gone back those days,
          why do I even waist your time.
          Because throaty your days to mine.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   573
          Grey Moldy Mind

          The patter of banter less rain
          without substance drains vein.
          Bottomless they float up from
          the top of living moving lips.
          Unequipped pierced lips move
          in a nonuniform manner split.
          Spilling left over news without
          a papers pressed clean diaper.
          Boldly flowing not absorbed on
          even the tastiest chunk of cheese.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   574
          Guileless Child We Think

          Playing down a furrowed lined incased in head
          is unmade bed all windows
          to a soul.

          Lifting shoulders burdens would not dare to try
          and carry on this path of thorns whom
          say they care.

          Anology compares your mind to theirs grace
          fares a better plate to rest my slice
          of bread your host.

          Yellow morning sun a cloud to bank the wisom
          of some ink the pages would all
          play a part this day.

          Solitude of moonless shine thine sureal would
          you find a clearing seamless
          mist now dine.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive             575
          Gurl'z in da hood,

          We tremble them, they make us stutter,
          obscene things,
          it make the butter that boyz breath, seem clean in them..

          We grind um, they grind more..we follow, we try..they are always
          in our side, asking more, demanding the big dance of grind..
          the payday, likud to DAR tric, hoodless we to them succumb.

          They are the power, colorless, mind numbing taste, pink buds
          forever, in the hood, swish is to lite or dark, without
          no prejudice, she rules with a choice, stream lined.

          Roll in then and turn out the lites, the crack of ur voice blows
          the hood away, in the heat of your moment, i dance to the
          beat wild such are free.

          Dumped, like a sack of eyeless potatoe heads, on the hood
          of your ride, tucks me in all the time sung to sleep in the smell
          of her hood..
          I ride that crab as well, plucked from da swells off her seas.
          I am a white boyz, smoked mullet head i know...in ur winks....

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                               576
          Gutmaster

          It is that I am
          just know it is
          that he is all around
          waiting watching
          never sleeping
          it is looking
          for the right moment
          is it now turning guts are yes gone.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   577
          Haiku Boy Forlorn

          Women never understanding
          Head hanging sadly Bereft
          Devastated empty of soul

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   578
          Hallowed Be Thy Name (unanswered prayers..(

          Merciful Father

          Hear my plea


          Heavenly Father,

          Those days were dangerous as much of the known world
          was controlled by women who wished not of -is it poetry
          to roam thier land free with it's will to use it's tongue.
          They planed and schemed to harbor it is in thier ports and
          harbors..it is loved the attention not the conflict.


          Wisdom was your hand that guided it's tongue in all your
          ways
          merciful is she whom comforts it's head saith it in whims
          bosom upon which it rests hear her moan.

          Thanks be thine for endless wine from her well of truth known
          here and in the hereafter.May the source of her well be kept
          secret until it is can fetch more of it.

          Merciful compassion in temperance for guiding it's stays within
          your holiest of inns spread through the land upon sheets counted
          seven hundred and twenty one bliss was it is in to deep of she in
          her sleep some one pry with thier bar and give it a break.

          For riches in tongue buds to taste flavor's words in water which
          leaps strait to you from it's heart.
          Heart of hearts in your mind it does beat manta of honey never
          money did it need.

          Merciful mind that hears without ears grant it's prayers year after
          year keep it here.

          It is roamed wide and free invisible in the cloak of himself whom watches to satisfy
          substance at it's source.



          Letter one from the apostle.. is..)     it(..poetry...

          Letter: one page one
          Date: 675-590..B.C.
          Source: Clay pot

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                                  579
          hand of hand

          Transferred in heart my palm
          to chest in you
          and sighed.
          Shock of gasp hush loud cry
          panting salt of hand
          rinsed with my lips.
          Tingling beating blood inside
          rushing weeping
          out in face a
          blush.
          Secrets laid inside my hand
          lips of yours in
          parting lost a
          vow.
          To calm amour.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   580
          Handling The Flame *

          Protection from without painted reprint
          are you to mirror the mask on the wall
          smallest of picture colors so hot to our
          touch felt the pain while taking it in not
          letting it out eyes are made to open
          hearing no shout from the flame.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive        581
          Hank Aron

          This ones for you..
          No artificial enhancing preservites... :)
          ...) it(s....still.....715

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive       582
          happy little poo ting noises

          if i listen to all your voices
          plotting juicy gossip
          how can i explain insanity to you
          unless
          you knew you were insane long
          before we met
          it is true then as
          one less voice joined
          the others
          i heard examples
          opposite from one another
          about bubbles floating in
          humor magical noises
          spice appearing leaving
          quickly
          musical notes tune rubbed
          as silk between
          two pieces of soft stock
          to hear to see
          to smell laughter
          is to be
          in love with your whispering
          poo ting small happy delightful favors.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive     583
          Happy*Are Some Days

          Flippant some words life is a day
          to me then gone.
          The song of cheesey cellers ripe
          with holes molds you.
          Greeny salads fumunganoneya
          cherrys dressing some
          do choose.
          Ripest some do gripe I truly knew.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   584
          Have I

          All that and more of) it(do I have than
          I need for me.
          I see) it(in your face
          I feel the blush) it(weakens your knees
          I Bleet you
          I miss you) it(will all ways be I not) it(
          I held you..Bleet..Bleet) it) is
          I who you know.

          ) it(

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive        585
          Head Down

          Lost in a sea of souls dragging wings of lue...common color of sky...whence you came
          dont you cry.... lost longer hear...Gold brown neck is dear... have know fear....
          alaround is an ear....lobe of viola held dear.... music sad barely felt....creature is dear
          hold it near......wanning stars bright luck hardly saw.....Herod was fickle.....not like
          pickle....prsure was to much to think...acktion of he then was blessed...soul of the lost
          now at rest...

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                                     586
          head less pitted plums

          The report was loud I must look dazed.
          It was not lightning, I dealt it, thoughts dumb.
          She is still hammered, blind as a bat.
          The room is wrecked, legs hang here and
          there, an odd arm, sticks out.
          No head can be seen, the chain saw has died
          leaving a coughing breath in it's sleep.
          She weeps in the corner, no shirt in bare feet
          her chest hugging knees, pushed deep.
          The toys from the night before hang, in different
          directions, from she who is blind, soul to strike.
          Her hands each hold spikes, thorns leek from mouth
          one lip dripps, in pain it seems.
          I take all of this in, As her great, great grandmother
          takes me to bed, upon her wrinkled plums I sleep.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                    587
          Hearing Train Staying Here

          Tracks among the light where I see
          rushing land scape whizzing
          by I am here.
          Riding whispers breath on a long
          sought date I am here.
          Accounting of ticket master the rail
          seeing time pass us by
          still i am here.
          Creeping on up seeing the light grip
          the cord on this
          trek i am here
          Keeping our case in front of the man
          send us back I am here
          Saving our selves to he whom does
          know causes fear I am here.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   588
          heart heavy ant

          When.....When was the last time
          you saw me
          really saw me hands knees
          dirty in me to see.
          Mountains heart the art
          nights grace in cool
          breath moons path
          feet I carry her beam.
          Crumbs stars guide scents line
          eyes turned inward tuned face
          her tears plain tipped grass deposit
          by what in whom gone to soon.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   589
          Heart In A Star

          Rare is the opportunity to make
          a world from the void.
          Think of some as primitive
          go to where he came.
          In such places worlds
          colide for intertainment.
          Love is never lost
          in some it was
          never found.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   590
          Heart In Oak *

          Such as does repose
          fine grain.

          Polished surface gained
          thus by feel.

          Soul of a giant
          lays within.

          Bowing Gently
          in the breeze.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   591
          Hearts in Season

          The planet revolves on a whim
          of the gods ever changing the
          channel we watch.
          Dark thrillers of women who love
          the feel of danger on
          their skin.
          Men such as I who always fly to the
          heart of a queen
          knowing thrill of the coronation is
          the ultimate vacation
          of life.
          Some like it hot others are chilled
          to the core of their being never
          seeing sweet life pass
          them by.
          The bumble bee song is ever so
          strong on the heart of a soul
          watching out for the wings
          that sing a sweet song for
          the young and the old.
          Theirs are the dreams to comfort and hold.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive        592
          Heavily She Sighs

          Shoulders bare denuded cloth so frail
          silken whispers hang
          from wind.
          Inside the chamber of my heart all music
          beckons there of
          blood in sand I
          sit.
          Gather now the shroud of sand in grains
          of golden dusk.
          Husks of minds I carried here but weary
          turned to dust from
          sand I claim as mine.
          Salvation bathes in golden light of sun.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive      593
          Heavy Is My Mask

          So you laugh and cry seems the same to me
          heavy are my lines upon your face.
          Mask of valleys thought hide your soul
          from server of all view a plain.
          Eternal moth is flame we seek when
          flying off from our kind
          where to land.
          Languished laundry on my line drama
          dogma all mankind dose sea.
          Level lithium beast beneath your feet
          the mask) it(s sweet to smell.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive       594
          Heavy Sweat*

          My thimble I canna find
          tinker fell down
          lid is askew you knew
          where to find me
          my wad I blew
          funeral went bad
          another hole filled in
          sweat on my palms.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   595
          Hello

          Compliments fasting on your tounge
          have sweet never sour saucy shower
          purpose being contrite in flight found
          simple towel wipes frown from sight.

          Blooming chicken with skinny legs
          chasing turkey perks wildly in a field
          laying eyes big as plates most eggs
          begging for a second chance delight.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive    596
          HELLO: ..JuSt sTick yOuR hEad iN

          The two legged bait,
          was young, fresh and blind.
          The lion, was very long of tooth.
          Last approach was not very stealthy.
          The lion took the bait.
          We watched the lion walk off happy satisfied,
          knowing that
          we wait, for our next fee,
          to watch a snuff film..
          Hardy...Har..free interprise..Har.......only
          an AmeriCan...CaN....
          be so disgustingly.....sensitive...to...cats....

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive              597
          Hello: : : : : boyyo with the goat

          You thought I would not find the time
          insanity's black room to address your sisters
          confession of you.
          Saith sister, the goat her name Gisilberhta,
          strange Germana name, I am Sayre is appropriately
          fitted to your cause, again saith she.
          She made mention of boots, why would
          you need, knee high boots for Gisilberhta a teenage goat.
          Saith she, said Gisilberhta has had to be taken to the vet
          a half dozen times, some thing about a usability
          to produce milk for your cheese.
          Saith she, said you will read this, then now after reading this
          Gisilberhta has been swigged with another and is even now
          as I speak
          being questioned in reference to you, having no other...

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                             598
          her bikini talks to a mannequin

          Two small potatoes
          hang from it, is this
          some back porch,
          rocking with it, trying
          to keep from being mashed.
          Blue is a mannequin, it's
          name for it, your lap dog, as
          two rabbits, eat it's carrot,
          in the others garden, as bird
          watchers you, pick a rose
          to big for the bath tub,
          it is to be delivered, back
          inside.Next to the new stove.
          It is time to feed the mind, is
          your last rabbit, a carrot top.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   599
          Her fearful hand

          It places me at cliffs edge
          dried of her fear it swells
          bursting forth it is shouting
          rising back into cliffs edge.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   600
          Her flyTrap

          Soft patient leafs grasp is to
          hold all souls to be fed upon.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   601
          Her Nasty Na sties is Nastiness Calling Soon

          She   invented Narcissistic behavior...
          She   taught me the above mentioned word....
          She   has hair under her arms...
          She   never shaves her legs...
          She   knows she has small milk duds..
          She   wastes all her milk......
          She   buys milk from the store and pours it out...
          She   takes milk cartons from little kids....
          She   makes the cows mad......
          She   hates cheese....even hers....
          She   has a mean look on her face right now.....
          She   is a sonnets contradiction when she talks...
          She   wears dirty knickers under her dress.....when we eat out.
          She   defiantly knows who she is........
          She   lives in denial.........................
          She   farts in public and blames it on me...knowing I hate liver...
          She   will soon come in screaming....: :) ...
          She   was fired for the second time..........
          She   thinks by erasing history she erases me....
          She   knows) it(made her famous......

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                 602
          Her secret is

          Her life was upside down inside out.....
          I was a butterfly looking for sweet flowers...
          Hers was a bush of roses adorning her brow...
          I poked I prodded I begged I pleaded for nought.....
          Inside of the house I was trapped...............

          Insideup looking out wandering around
          laying down spent bent winged puffs powdered
          air breathing hers....with her little straw hat,
          last of the nectar store bought was the last that I saw....

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                         603
          her window in my head

          I lay in the dark room on your bed..
          The ceiling so clear, i peer through at you.
          Why on days like to day, found certainty
          is the window so filled with your clarity?
          You never knew all these years,
          some things it was wise i never shared with you.
          My other bed, hidden in it's head,
          you see me, watching you, flushed in what you do
          with them.
          You go in even farther, as it turns out the light, while
          the picture now digital, has grown now ever tighter.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                      604
          her, knowledge guides me, best

          I watch, listen, her hand
          would be my teacher,
          her mind, would straighten,
          my crooked, lame leg, no
          more it has to beg, in corner.
          Teacher, dunce hat hurts, head!

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   605
          Here There *

          Somewhere any where their is peace
          tranquility hope such a place I used to
          look only to the mind it rejects me now
          to much have you put in never taking
          any out no room with all the clutter
          must you now toss some out
          carefully soon you must choose
          or be tossed out of your
          head forever.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive     606
          Hidden In The Dark

          The most wondreful thing gone sight unseen
          for wicked they so knew, to keep from you,
          the music of stars.

          Voice of soft melody air of sound the keeper
          of one ear?

          Strings of life the cord that helps such flowing
          of each river filled
          with tears.

          Massed in square the millions there to hear
          the man his women
          she did dare.

          Hope on shoulders pushing yonder people
          all the colors fashioned matters not in
          knowledge lost, wise was he to see
          belief in thee.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive              607
          Hidden Within The Tree

          Time passes this flock of trees grow high,
          strait and tall normal all would think.
          Yet within one a special heart to see but
          from the outside one would not.
          Days turned in to months the years rolled
          by clinging to each other
          did these trees.
          Light to the floor and roots the grain of life for all
          soft and loamy was the measure.
          Blight strikes felled many thus they are hearts
          effected.
          But the one

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                    608
          hide my worth

          Language belies hidden value laboring
          this tongue swollen in your valleys mist.
          Accomplishments unfold woody in hints
          peaked chest firmament heavens dew.
          Dropped from heights your eye follows
          masked delights favor a humbled cheek.
          Granting worth of faltered pink demand
          lumbering for jack walled in grand home.
          Blemish not a countenanced look humbled
          imprison last passion laying flame riden.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive       609
          High The Bird The Sky

          I   see you, you see me
          I   read you, you read me
          I   hear you, you hear what
          I   think of you every day, you think what of me
          I   constantly thirst, You drink not of me
          I   think you alleyways their, you who are their some times scare me
          I   am growing, You think in what direction
          I   am flowing, you think to what ocean
          I   am human to, You think what kind of human are you
          I   crave love to, you think what kind of love do you crave
          I   think the normal kind, you think what is normal to you
          I   wish to fly in your sky to, you ask how do you know I am here
          I   think you are white, you think in nothing but colors
          I   think I will come sea you, You think with open arms

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                  610
          HillBilly In Orlando

          She did not even say
          good bye when she
          left two years ago..
          bad bad person... :) it(s..o.k.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   611
          Hitcha ride Then

          On Trade Martains back very well he does know now..lol>>) it(

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                           612
          Home Schooling

          Beats staying in class begging time
          to hurry on buy
          no school bus no bullys
          just me myself and I
          pass every year
          guaranteed.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   613
          Honest Flirts, live forever...the others dont

          They may have blond hair
          blue eyes, for me, they have
          more, dark hair well with to.
          I am thier drive through, take
          out, all orders obeyed, eyes is.
          They tip good, bring me beer,
          knowing I will listen, and not squeal
          like the rest, I am the roller coaster
          of life, have a good time let a few
          pictures be taken go home and sleep
          well, no cuts, no puking guts, blood-
          less dreams, with Domenico's cast
          we like to hear, ears know how it is.
          Late at night, when eyes of the world are shut tight...

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                     614
          honey in my oatmeal

          Porridge fairy tail mush
          runs a dog yet you eat it.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   615
          Hope Is Not My Innuendo

          It is the act, of) defiance unconsummated
          in realms arraigned(waiting for> juries
          untried <a verdict
          to begin.
          Longing >hopes< perfect, wing to catch
          drafts, penned out dry ink -is- meaning
          grounded word (-love-) >lifting-unborn>to breath
          with death in -god-his hands, tears filled quills write.
          It is, one last>quid=less<pros..qu&#333; .........

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                      616
          Hope***********

          Hope is the faith of all
          verse of time.
          Ordinary is the life
          of none.
          People every where hold
          keys to the future.
          Every one enjoys this
          joy in life.



          )   it(

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   617
          Hopless Is A Bird Without Feathers

          Hopeless-Featherless-Bird
          Eggless your were born from
          Flighless-souless-inside-You
          Repeat words you heard back
          Songs-known-unsung-beakless

          Skin-warmed-unatural-cold-asails
          Heartless motherbird pushed baby
          Nestless-wings-gails-uncaught
          Founders pebbles hungry ants wait
          Mother-watches-bones-aunt-to-leaves

          Barren ocean is mothers open arms
          Call-

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   618
          House Of Pain

          Seventeen generations lost of soul
          lived here valley of a shadow draws
          you near.
          Black of void the night so shiny is
          the single reflection deep within
          this orb that is my eye.
          Bleeding wenches screaming out
          my name.
          Hands clenched tight the writhing
          of the thighs.
          Arms wide open breast up
          thrusting draws me
          into her.
          My soul forever herein dwells in
          side this house of pain.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   619
          how can i remain

          Without books word
          within stays dormant
          stands of benches
          stone homes ally ways.
          Long borrowed fingers
          honored with penned
          departure returned chafe
          warm hand in store.
          Reserve none preserve
          words lost broken
          most retrieve brother
          sister sons daughters.
          Storm riffed hot fire ash
          ink war mixed drew
          fragmented soul of child
          inside one heart thats new.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   620
          how is she filled out

          Such grace,
          full at base is oven fired,
          her paint so plain,
          is beauty stunned.
          Yet you think this prom,
          isn't about you, when it is.
          Your every days, Morrow
          always here.
          From the middle ground,
          is pulled the finest tuna fish,
          the world would ever know.
          Renumbered, tuna dont spread gossip,
          people do, so throw them back.
          The tuna are always fretfully peaked, for free shrimp.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                    621
          How Long ~~~after im gone will you forget me~~

          You have seen a lot of me
          yet really none of me.
          You have seen me mad
          glad happy sad looking
          through the window of my
          soul perhaps a tear
          a tear forgotten a tear gone.
          The salt washed into the
          ground undone never to be
          found by any.
          You say you would do
          anything.
          We have enjoyed what life
          has to offer and more
          kindness humbly deferred to us
          returned as it should
          thrice over.
          I am ill and and by leaving I
          would rather have you think I
          left over the argument we
          had but being a man you
          cannot even remember the
          ones much much worse and
           they being but a leaf on
          the breeze.
          I leave to keep you from the
          burden of watching me die
          before your eyes and the
          memory of you knowing
          how it was I am not now.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive            622
          How Long Have You known

          History book the look that
          gave away the library?

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   623
          how much can you, fit on a pin..?

          Inside deep down vast mind of queen
          eye directs her thrills, to subjects here.

          Many are the pins, brought in, from out
          they sing when stacked, about a purpose
          plain.
          Great is her fine supine, filaments float is
          mind they do compare with pins they lose.

          Directions to her cast and crew begin long
          steady march within the city wall to find the
          evil few.

          Her king is Chinese, he checked in from prior
          life to advise the laying line of pins sleep inns.

          Kingly ant points out the one to cause such
          clamor of small mind compared therein into.

          The forest of false hair is thick, and blue, some
          gone around the rim, shinny mindless pins stuck
          strait and true small wires do run this rim of skin.

          Plot on this great brimful mind, enshrined inside,
          this hollow bowl, will soon unfold this very night.

          Queen of millions ask the switch be thrown, when
          done, as she instructs, should hear revenge sweet
          so groan in throw es as ticked off bugs do let go.

          The switch on this vast mind of mean is thrown
          inside the room her dream continues on today.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                  624
          how to where, i go

          I feel heat, is it, the light?
          Search, a face in long halls.
          Passages, many are dark.
          Others here, i cannot see.
          I feel the sun, through roof.
          Light allusive, once infused.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   625
          how, i see

          You are all around me, you have to
          know I cannot delinquish, between
          dark and light is to justify your heat.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive     626
          Human Beings

          From the begining frought
          with peril of right
          something that makes us
          all different soft of voice
          hard with anger
          both flow into each other
          thinking all of one not
          the other is foolish
          like tounge with
          no mouth ask
          your brother.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   627
          humbly

          Each time your bud enters
          my mouth
          I faint from the pain that
          pleasure does cause
          do you know upon the
          lilies I never would tred
          loose my soul to the
          tast of a single tear
          made of salt from
          your eye.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   628
          Humping Ground

          Raising spade swinging hard esence time
          to us there is no second chance.
          Avalanche of pain no tears of great I bear
          all share.
          Inside freezing mind is leaving singing of
          the choir.
          Next to you upon my face smelling scent
          sweet clean is water pure.
          .

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive        629
          Hunted like the Wicked Dog i'm Not backward to Sea

          Prostrated down and up I'm hunted so my soul
          forever wanders freed to be an
          islands sands on warn
          out knees.

          Rivers stand the hills run up to crown perched
          tops a lonesome place
          to be.

          Never knowing if or when the night is shuttered
          thunder is a glint of eveiled teeth
          knashed unto me.

          Hello kindly be a voice of reason when all else
          has flown in sea to shinning see
          an endless being.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                630
          Hunters Of Words

          Pleas on finely honed ears i do pray
          for the voice from the air
          that will say.
          Late please know found mind was never lost
          as was said mind of
          others do fear.
          Entered door of others to render safe haven
          cleft ship.
          Ask of others in Black still ill of body does
          effect judgement.
          Somber shiftless brutter not dear conceived
          with hazed mind cloven to
          still deer.
          Effects atomic in nature asking
          thus of me to do more
          than cry.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive           631
          hurry up, and hold this

          it   is my last poem
          it   is about a room
          it   is now to empty
          it   is going away is
          it   loved, you cry to.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   632
          I push

          You pull the hope, is it to much? Faith
          cannot bear such strain.
          I would rather push up daisies, than be
          drown't in a puddle of dreams.
          I fumble foot balls, the referee gives them back.
          Fouls fly north in my winter, tears flow forward
          into your eye, much deserved.It seems.
          I have breached no damns, yet the beaver knows, It flows.
          I wonder through the wilderness, with out a reference to a hat, while
          duck without a bill rests on the tail of the beaver, inking a quill.
          The queen will hear about that, it is to late to flee, these, the acts,
          you did presume in park, now you must play, the pipers part.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                     633
          i am a sick pup

          since you left this morning and i
          lost sight of you
          on your pillow i have lain
          whimpers crying little puddles of me dying
          falling asleep wagging my tail
          cuddled in sweet memory
          of you
          the master of this nice warm bed i do like to spend
          asleep waiting on you.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                 634
          i am again, insane

          You are my intire world,
          my void is filled, by you.
          Make me crazy, insane.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   635
          I am deaf to Lear

          Words leave me women to stare, why not?
          Slap me happy, like you to share some tea?
          why not?
          Madness is my way, yet I try it your way to please.
          I am an adventurer, trying to loose all I find.
          I really don't know who screams the loudest, modest here.
          I do not speak for two, only one writes at all about verbs.
          We may lay on a noun, but we fight with verbs, to st ear clear.
          I save my feet for a worthy cause, than to jump up and down,
          playing meek to a crown never worn.

          Love adorns, a soft face, cheers carry her roses to say,
          my feet tread in ash es, all day.

          Will the one show her true colors, or fade to the ground, as a shade.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                   636
          I am easy..love.. to easy..

          You, I am talking about you, show me a
          little skin, you slip write in just like a pro.
          I am ashamed at how easy I am to tric.
          You have no feeling, primitive thing in
          it's soul of lost to find by you, plain tric.
          If ever I git my hands on you, I will split.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive             637
          i am jealous of each dropp you sweat

          My love cannot compete when
          love renews each day blanches
          stronger is ash left on suns face
          to grow its fingers to reach again
          energy ebbs an exhausted dance is
          in its wind a blown face to cover eyes
          gold silver green grey blue mine mind
          common shallows brow touched with
          a brush of cosmic dust I tried trust in
          wisps left the fragrance all wear is a
          lite dress you wore last night in hand
          cast before my eyes my sleep is jealous
          washed in breaths breath so breathless
          lost in a world worn by you unassumingly.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive       638
          I Am Known To All Of You

          Disrespect by some though none &#1074; &#1080; &#1076; &#1086; &#1084;
          I have one thought still by you
          i am known...
          punctuation misguided us carectors
          are they not welcome.
          can the presence of (it)
          cause wedgies when on the poo list i run
          for forgiveness and its done..
          not through aggrogant pride but from
          misunderstanding...different tongue like this
          yet known to another on the island of
          Elizabeth the name of my daughter..
          he who you think hates is your brother
          wise is he to... dreams arnt cought they
          are magic when the maject leaves your
          head you are dead body talks even so
          disguesed all alone on an island i live
          by my self not is my wish though
          amonst the egos i dwell all alone saith I
          none there.. no man is an island profond
          think me not yet cannot an island be
          that man think the names number so..
          was not Firoze Shakir Bollywoods
          Most Wanted Poet Of India here
          among you once..write strike went away gone
          not lost of your table was there fare for they
          amonst you..no think me noy..
          tremble at the thought were i you yet you wont
          some will do..flatulence at the top
          is an art in the land of the sun going up...
          in the land where the sun is an inconvienence
          you are crude very rude kick you out as wipe so..
          amongst you i have been long time not
          so youn not am i.peace will i see all thats
          here now so near hear again..rude be not

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                    639
          I Am Known To All Of You 2

          Names unlike some wont dwell.. here the
          smoke is always thick like a tric of the
          mind let it leave....golden is the tounge
          of some i meet thick is the sole of the bleet..
          rigid mind held no song
          blazing comet streaks the mind when your kind...
          trouble know just like you...
          conffesions are bad when directed by a brain
          on a pin none can win...
          parts we play then have say why you won..
          .then have fun...traveling round the world
          on this site know them all...
          father is father mother is mother love and food
          for the children.all may say...say you not please
          depart know no peace sniff a fart...
          heavy is the hand in this land where you dwell..
          .weak are they who forgive you...
          judge judy thinks your cocanut if you do..
          family bad lawyer say prenup fail from the start...
          ola..golden tounge dorty is the lady whom perpetualy
          sings all the day just for you...

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                  640
          I Am Known To All Of You 3

          Life in the flame like some a big stain underarm...go in peace, , , farthings none....
          money all gone fish i eat...omega 3 oil brainfood...rank on the tounge are the scrunge
          in asoul, , , bless them to..hand me a fork i will eat with the end see me grin...> :)
          for you...Blessed is she who is given to me... life i hold....not the ho that scolds..no
          wino i am but i like a big drink...did think so...ciggerets i smoke magic i am in your
          hand....winter is here helps me think clear.. help the queer....in there thoughts
          humbled so..unless you are won having fun like you do....free is the air unlike the
          word... strike (it) down hear the verb drink the noun...healthaly uncooth though i
          be.. love me so...spare the rod...mask in chians i dont wear..in the palm of your hand
          you hold me tight..cup me so...love your poem now done...(it)

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                                      641
          I Am Known To All Of You 4

          You are my mother father sister brother aunt uncle nephew neice granmother
          grandfather priest other kind of sister lets swing introduction yes seduction mass
          conductor i am yours you are mine hang it up sea me sway to your beat which is me
          for the few who cant chew get a job be a cow chaw a cud elmer fud dont be a dud now
          do jazz cuz you have what it takes sing the blues you can to lazy on to swan song of
          cole davis lou armstrong do no wrong to a song can you sing on a swing be a bird hear
          her chip in a church the truth goes marching on and on....you are mine i am yours
          stand up for me i will do the same....

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                               642
          I am not a pro like that

          Wriggling as if you were born
          comming out of a cocoon
          it is most unvaried way to seat
          the treats of
          common man.
          Sleeping soft of you your wings
          floating always sifting thought
          while cuddled by the power of
          a word in two now caught.
          Moaning low assented yes to
          luscious ness to test one
          ear I tear a lot to wash that spot
          a lot.
          Thoughtless joy of mind I carry found
          to always stay as fond of magic when
          green dragon fires the sky.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   643
          i am only, your pet pig

          Yet, i am an honest one..i am pink,
          i have wings, i can fly..i do eat the roses,
          you frown...when i find a pearl, a pink one..
          you do more than pay me in smiles of your praise.
          You, ..you oinks pink, to the world, rolls over and winks..and cries...

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                     644
          I Am The Tear

          You forever thirst for
          always on your lips.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   645
          I Am Trying are you

          To help you help me....
          You ask the wrong things........
          Thinking to much as it does.....
          Never sleeping.......

          I do not need ropes.....
          Nor do I need booze or pills......
          Others say for fun some times or none
          may I have, , , ,
          Those are for the one I missed....

          I miss you more than a tear the ground
          is so parched.....
          Your way is easier....
          I contain your sneeze..for you might leave me..

          So before you do it think one more minute.....
          It is all in the wrist leaking from the slice...
          Buttered bread in hand make you tasty...
          Dreams of barley rye and corn gone hazy..

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive              646
          I am, innocence, lost in a mule, named, Sarah

          If you stand there slack jawed, what's in a fuse, a box to top?
          Does your water whistle, when tea you do make, is it swerve?
          Forward in volley the back hand is folly to swank, is the music
          you play every day in the ruse.
          I confess these words, to use in amusement, in joy for the moment, a thrill and a chill,
          harmless dare if you do.....Say it, you will!
          Are you proved? ..In the middle and pink?
          I am wicked bad, no dad, I'm a male to do is to try, and land on the
          moon of your face is grace to us all, let us fall into silk and leaves
          in a pile it is swank be word in a coded world to undress..us all.
          I confess, I will come hard, I will come fast, I will last, I will be breath
          to your sweaty nights that you dream in vain.
          I am, wicked bad, a males, confession of sin, for you to deny.......
          I only want a flirt to warm my heart, my sin is you.....I stay in your...
          badness...forever blind...with you to mask...

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                                  647
          i am, only one, like you

          You want me, /to be\ one way,
          a processional in a circle of friends
          to admire, singing songs,
          about life in the fast lane, in it's energy
          that you lead to fire, to wash, and breath in life.
          This is but the animal in heat, that you see.
          All must be gold, all that is trust,
          daddy his dust, moons beams
          that glitter, it boils the blood.
          Turning it colorless, of gloss shades of
          you, I'm forced to dream in your pinks.
          This is to me,
          you reach down and pet and stroke,
           I rush in to blush.
          /Or not to be\ it is the other,
          the first word in a cover of words,
          that may follow.
          This heat is just as hot,
          without even the sun, they blaze ranges in hue
          that it loves to make you scream.
          Your rash agelessness becomes You.
          >It <just makes it worse.
          It is rude, it is mad, yet not lazy,
          it is easier washing hands knowing I
          chase another, when that other is you,
          >You get madder than hats, made of red
          It' less, is not, cannot be,
          other than two, one in the other it is, it lives
          to make you red or pink,
          it is one way or the other,
          or is it pink?
          It loves red to, softer it stays in pink...

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                 648
          i am, your stain...

          You pealed my mind, front to back
          then sat in it...I did not resist you, are.
          What you are, I fell into, the wind cut me, in two, I die?
          Your head, when you lay it on me, my stain in you, I try to reach
          just because.It is all I have, be kind I ask of you, just please try.
          Sheets of white Linnea, washed in your sea, waves foam
          as you try, i hide, deep inside, what is you...my stain...erased..

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                   649
          I an infidel..!

          Staggering I lean against dark comedies brow
          beaten knees on my elbow
          puking up miles of sand
          no sex on this beach as far as the eye can see.
          Is it it any wonder this reputation
          upon me bestowed by you
          fits her face
          unseen.
          Relent most humble person of honorable
          staged less intentions
          unintended will swim through shores wind blown
          window soon one night.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive             650
          I Ask The Maid *

          Can I have a job may
          I work for you?

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   651
          I breath your passing wind

          Lungs frozen in mid gasp panting.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   652
          I Called You

          Chasing thoughts of you through out
          the night round my mind no
          where to go.
          Helplessly dialing time and again busy
          signal times grim.
          Asking things I know you know of me
          to you still.
          Silent was the bed inside your head
          J.W. waited all night
          for you.
          Entertaining thoughts of you in the arms
          of some one else G swell.
          .

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive      653
          I Can Eat One Not Both

          Flesh covered ground, I push
          myself along on them to see
          I pull apart bloodied, thin legs.
          Determination made that both
          deer starved, one in two eats.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   654
          I can make you famous to

          But you have to cooperate
          and take your cloths all off.
          I was told every thing after
          that is free except the tea.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   655
          i can withdraw

          The weather was a gift
          did you sleep through it.
          Withdrawn, is sun day to.
          To shelter a small flower.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   656
          i can, never.. stop!

          Shuddering, I quiver,
          shake, rush, is to die.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   657
          I Canna

          Sing like she..carry on carry on miss the song.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive             658
          i cannot make you come back it's

          It is easier to make
          the sun go down.
          It is easier to make
          you change the
          color of your eyes
          than to see me for
          how i am.
          It is easier to be
          reborn as you
          than make you
          come back it's
          just never easy
          without you here.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   659
          I Cannot Move It, will you: ..: Judge

          Unrung bell difficult trial
          awaits a stone in sleep.
          Hammered chip an OSHA
          strung the harp was this a
          promise truth to hold by
          you to me unfolds untruth.
          Bells that ring this song
          some truth in you was told.
          Of she with you I tried to
          speak a finger treat you
          flicked
          me as a lowly fly by you
          perceived
          of this could I be wrong..?
          Lawyer ed wise Lawyered wrong
          cloudy smoke upon my soul
          was cast a moral wrong.
          Strong in song can you wear
          those shoes so easily flown
          from lips to hide your own.
          More than breath of life I breath
          in she you took a grain of sand
          a pearl I think she better be no
          joy in Jill who cracked Jacks crown.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   660
          I Cannot Unmake You Make Me

          Make you love the circles
          hidden
          hair high arched eyebrow.
          Make the date of the tree
          go away
          it's rings point to you a way.
          Make time reach back today
          past
          tomorrow lives unbruised.
          Make you make me each
          see
          such errors that we make.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   661
          I Cannot Wait For Death

          Their are waves
          of yet
          I need to taste
          salt if salt
          never is it the same
          cloudy are some
          seas.
          Butter does not dripp
          from wings
          of she
          I must need some
          ground
          to chase her from
          in need.
          Nibbled am I to a fish
          seeking a hook
          yet
          I am never
          caught by she
          in care.
          Once cast off
          I seek
          a still cloud to
          peek
          in a
          hurried flow
          speeding any where
          but here.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   662
          I Can't Do It

          Yes I can.
          Laugh Laugh       Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh Laugh       Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh Laugh       Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh Laugh       Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh Laugh        Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh Laugh       Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh Laugh       Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh Laugh       Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh Laugh       Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh Laugh        Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh Laugh       Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh Laugh       Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh Laugh       Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh Laugh       Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh Laugh        Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh Laugh       Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh Laugh       Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh Laugh       Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh Laugh       Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh Laugh        Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh Laugh       Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh Laugh       Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh Laugh       Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh Laugh       Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh Laugh        Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh Laugh       Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh Laugh       Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh Laugh       Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh Laugh       Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh Laugh        Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh Laugh       Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh Laugh       Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh Laugh       Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh Laugh       Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh Laugh        Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh Laugh       Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh Laugh       Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh Laugh       Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh Laugh       Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh Laugh        Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh Laugh       Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh Laugh       Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh Laugh       Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh Laugh       Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh Laugh        Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh Laugh       Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh Laugh       Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh Laugh       Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh Laugh       Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh Laugh        Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh Laugh       Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                                           663
          Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh LaughLaugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh     Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                          664
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh   Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh     Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh     Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh     Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh   Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh   Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh   Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh   Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh   Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh   Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh   Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh   Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh   Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh   Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh     Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh     Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh     Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh     Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh     Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh     Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh   Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh   Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh   Laugh Laugh Laugh
www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                                  665
          Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh
          Laugh     Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh
www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                            666
          Laugh    Laugh     Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh     Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh     Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh     Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh     Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh     Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh     Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh     Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh     Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                                         667
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh       Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh     Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh       Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh       Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh       Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh       Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh     Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh       Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh       Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh       Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh       Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh     Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh      Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh       Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh       Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh       Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh       Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh     Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh     Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh     Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh     Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh     Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh     Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh   Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh   Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh   Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh   Laugh Laugh Laugh
www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                                  668
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh     Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh     Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh     Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh     Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh     Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh     Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh     Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh     Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                                       669
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh     Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh     Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh     Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh     Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh     Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh     Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh     Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh     Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh     Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                                         670
          Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh LaughLaugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh LaughLaugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh LaughLaugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          LaughLaughLaugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh LaughLaugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh LaughLaugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh LaughLaugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh

          ONLY TO THE ANT WHO IS ME



           Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh     Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh     Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh     Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh     Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh     Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh     Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh     Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh     Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh     Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh     Laugh Laugh
          Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh     Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh     Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh     Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh     Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh     Laugh Laugh
          Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh     Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh     Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh     Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh     Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh     Laugh Laugh
          Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh     Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh     Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh     Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh     Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh
          Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh     Laugh Laugh
www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                          671
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh     Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh     Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh    Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh    Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh   Laugh
          Laugh    Laugh     Laugh Laugh Laugh Laugh   Laugh   Laugh

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                                           672
          i can't hear you..so die

          blank ears inverted cobs
          it laughs
          one end is like all
          the others
          you sell this as
          fresh corn
          i see your little
          silk worms
          i eat them to they
          are sweeter
          than all the wine in the whole
          wide narrowly inverted world
          you made me watch
          blindly
          pounding seedless grapes
          as i listen to the Rossington Collins band..
          play Tom Petty....

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive          673
          i can't make you fame

          If you don't want it,
          I will give up mine
          for you.To prove it.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   674
          I caught you laughing

          Tears to fill rivers that float forests.
          Noise of laughter to silence planes.
          Tears in your belly it ripples in glee.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive      675
          i confes***it was me

          Confessions from cows don't
          go over very well.

          I know they don't get one before
          we partake of their soul.

          They do help the air smell less
          stale for the sinning party.

          I am sinner I won't be getting any
          thinner if I tried.

          I am way to serious and playing
          basketball most of my life their
          was four other fellas who did
          want to win.much much bigger
          than I get the picture, than me
          lord help spare the court talk..lol

          All in all I enjoy being a cave man
          and all the other delicious names
          at least for a while until I read
          all your work and pass me off
          as you then job done.

          We all get our thrills with out pretty
          much crushing the toes of each
          other no foul.

          Do not bleed on the carpet..on the
          way out of the door..lol

          Merry Christmas folks

          don't get to drunk and if the coppers pull
          you over hide in the trunk..

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive        676
          i confes***it was you to

          Without sound hunting down the eye when
          shown a grey blistered sky you
          know it is.

          Is it you berift of thought blazing trails contrail
          willowed slinder branched a bright
          green leaf when free.

          Thunder blushed a face indiscrace frail distaste
          bitter on your tounge ink well
          ran dry.

          Hundred thousands ask me now millions cast
          there lots you know tolling of the bell
          all wonder why.

          Outside looking in the sin wonder not missgivings
          when the sun is blazing high
          into your face.

          Unto palm of hand you ran O lined of't furrowed did
          return a favor bought by you to
          gain my trust.

          Tender mercies rought from you compassion love
          was bought with dew tears running
          down our face.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                 677
          i confes***it was'nt me

          People are no different than cows
          when confessing.

          They moon in the phew.

          The smell of beef is not like chicken
          tastefully one bites the other.

          Broad is one bun, dipped into the other.

          Both farm methane while depleting
          the grass colored air.

          Both are without sin as we are no
          masters of fate.

          I'm to fat to sin any more how I try.

          I was once serious about faking my
          death now eyes are every where.

          Women draw on the wall of my cave
          knowing I am a simple complex man
          in a single celled world.

          Your womb comforts me his staff is to
          short let me stay..

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive      678
          i confess i took your knickers

          To your house and traded
          them to your sister for hers.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   679
          I Crave

          Your Mouth....) it(s..also.mine..

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   680
          i deny me

          Yes, i am afraid of what others may think, so
          i run away and hide behind, there mask of bitter pain.
          I was told, to feel alive is to be dead, never to glow in life
          is to never, flow in rivers of milk, yet i do, must try.
          Some pref ere pain, whisky drugs, yet you know of me and mine.
          You do not know me, yet you do, so i blush still to sow, a few grains to walk inside.
          You tremble me so bad, i shake, i walk by the vine, your grape, is to
          call me, so i run with you in smiles.
          Your day is my night, my night is still bright, i do not run from the sun
          yet i cry for the one, when i am not inside, you smile and lay with me a
          while, i blush and thank you for the smile, returned to me, unfolds
          the rose inside of you.
          I stutter around you, you make me blush, i tremble you, sigh and try again, just for
          the smile in one a kind, can bring just for a while.

          i check the wine you grow.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                                   681
          i disappeared into that

          I was told that the                     therapeutic,
          effects of the shock                      were most
          exssively, the others,                      were
          not so fortunate.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive             682
          i do , still smiles in you..')

          Even, when it hurts..
          Even when, it hurts me....
          Even when it hurts to say..:
          Inside your waves ,
          I smiles, a smile in you... :) .... :)

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive    683
          i do it

          Its impossible
          can't be done.
          I fall, to get to
          you in a vein.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   684
          I Do This For You

          Om borrowed time......Live life to the upmost..

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive             685
          I Don't K n0w *

          Why I get annoyed when a mesquito
          bites me on the eyelid
          when I am asleep.
          When asleep the kids tie a six inch string
          to my big toes and scream last beer
          who wants it.
          When asleep and the cat jumps for the
          toy mouse the little one throws onto my
          chest missing the mouse and clawing
          my cheek.
          Why me in twenty minutes of sleep.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive        686
          i dont mind

          Really i dont mind ok,
          it is
          just a scrivener's error..

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   687
          I Drilled A Hole In YourHead

          Loud was the wind rushing
          through that hole.
          Wondered how you came
          bye it?
          Through luck or dread laying
          as you were.
          Peace full sleeping like a
          babe.
          Glazed was the single orb
          and color was lost milky
          to me.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   688
          i dunno, i woke up here

          i dunno,
          you tell me
          but this rock is frying me stuffs all off
          and those look like twelve inch fangs
          in the water
          i dunno.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive       689
          i feel more than your pain

          I will make you
          my nurse
          tie you down like you did me
          I will save anesthesia I will
          make you a flap I will take hours
          unreel you
          to your white bone colored crown
          bleaching your hair along the way
          I cannot do it
          you direct my hand at your instruction
          grey trembled beats moist heat
          why do you jump convulse seize gasp is air
          leaves your lip rubbery
          shocking are wires laid upon your essence
          Blithe moth mouths soul
          your uncrowned is found achievement
          arts pale
          paint unleashed on me your soul
          in hand.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive        690
          i flee

          To another day
          looking
          wait of you
          brazen words
          shameless I lay
          sweat many fingers three eyes
          hearing you say
          come come to me.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   691
          I Flipped You Over

          You conceded every thing
          to me after that.
          I expected a fight a struggle
          not all that wiggle room.
          When you flipped me I knew
          it was over you.
          Side by side evenly matched.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   692
          i flipped you over again

          your stuff
          was on fire
          i had to
          put all of it out
          kicked to the curb
          it smelled of fish...

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   693
          I Flipped You Over For The Last Time

          You nodd into Gomorrah, you smell
          my lip move, your hand unwinds
          like the rubber, around your arm.
          Sp each was for yesterdays reliance
          on this vomit puked room.
          Your head hung is no match in
          internment it's bubbles shinny march
          across your chin
          dripping.
          Sodom left traces not only on your arm.
          The great city once your mind is now only
          Babel's lost in time, bones catered
          pressed by sand it's mother.
          I know, statistics say you are lost, I never
          go with them, yet political correctness
          strokes me now... ssoooo..
          I stick it in, to the hilt, and press the plunger
          filling you with sleeps warmth, one last time...
          Not getting caught so it is legal...
          So is water boarding...and...and....and...and.
          I flipped you over one last time because.......
          it was legal.....

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive               694
          i forgot shame

          Gone yes was I for a while
          tears eyes did jerk snivel.
          Sniveled me at all blinks u
          shame hang head lay down.
          Imagination horrible no minds
          lands barren soulless sterile.
          Trapped head head trapped
          attack back front side hide.
          Sliding through void origins
          haunted mind house others.
          Worried my tail dogs did off
          helping hands nurse soothed.
          Home schooled start go stop
          popping noises light bright
          snap peas sight eyes dim.
          After culling mind mine you
          yesterday forgotten nameless.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   695
          I Gave An Elephant A Peanut

          The smallest of thing I saw
          along my way.
          Hand stretched forth to humble
          kingly beast.
          Elephant remembered simple
          gift a peanut as a child.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   696
          I Gave One Peanut to many To the Elephant

          Graceful slinky ever kinky trunk of yours
          once picked me up
          down flew.

          Racing blood foot to head upside down
          peanuts run from me to
          you now chew.

          Enter from the back afront my trunk stays
          true to musky scent
          of you.

          Allowing humor curling lips a smile from
          eats that wayward treat hidden
          in some soiled pant's
          you wear

          Telling ears with some hair bracelet circled
          wear no nair funky chicken
          sprayed in hair
          for you.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive          697
          I Gave the elephant back the peanut she gave me

          Being not allergic to them the elephant
          could not tell peanuts from chocolate...
          .)   it(s a river you do not want to
          cross..)    it(s..shallow though i heard.
          what did you hear...)      it(s..crazy

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive             698
          I Gave the elephant back the peanut she gave me..dropping it the elephant
          looked at me
          Reaching down the peanut
          larger than life a gift
          from me.
          Wondered did I this peanut
          inside of life so thought
          to be or not.?
          Hatchling one peanut find rare
          lights sun cannot hide
          did so care
          most were surprised
          running around
          track metal of spine
          was a mouse.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                       699
          I Gave the elephant back the peanut she gave me..dropping it the elephant
          looked at me...and said
          Mouses live in houses catching cats
          at nap in play inside your head.
          Peanuts live inside my soul
          to catch a morning breeze
          a palm you cup in sup
          loves flavor born
          for me.
          Elephant person past life mortal plane
          peanuts graced small body
          not your plain
          plan your thoughts ahead
          I canna tell end from end just where
          these peanuts dwell.
          Dear memory from past imagination
          born as child
          remembering pie of apple teachers pet
          her eye
          bold approach as any aeroplane gets
          be a dear boy reach yon back and
          scratch the peanuts eye.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                       700
          i hate being a frog

          Lop hopsity is not a wall
          of game.
          It's fame lies in snakes to
          weep wasted legs never if
          caught.
          Pads comfort ponds image
          reflected back
          face of gator eating a skipped
          meal.
          This misery sneezed out in
          little popping noise
          bladder balloons wingless hoping
          last hopes in a tadpole vein.
          Windfeldt prayers dislodge turtles
          waiting for little legless bodies
          floating down in
          solaced embrace of trying again
          when mum
          offers caviar's last beating heart
          more time..hopping for some to hop....

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive    701
          i hate being alone...now

          i wish all the adults
          who are dead and
          beat me when i was
          little were alive now
          at least they all said
          that they loved me be
          for my beating started.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   702
          I have an extra peanut

          Some how I have three
          she called it a gift I say
          it is an inconvenience.

          She loves it when I play football...
          The wind drives me into her arms.
          Every first down I make drives her harder...
          She calls every penalty...the zebra man...

          The doctor calls it a wast of her time
          I think she has anterior motives......
          The doctor has a large farm in Georgia
          where the peanuts lay allover the ground...

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive          703
          i have eaten both two

          Dogs, i wonder, through my kills,
          those feet are small, it's fine, you?
          Pink splatters, Martha, these are
          not your's, rags, pledge, every day.
          I sit, drinking tea, waiting, sleeping.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive     704
          I Have Forgotten

          The smell of a day
          not poised
          Laughing as it leaves
          me behind.
          Tomorrow I have to cry
          clutching cloths
          fabric.
          Memories treading homeward
          without me,
          rudderless my body slips
          beyond the dust.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   705
          I have had complaints of my latin

          My Latin is Subaru...Is it not supposed to be..
          driving the hand in force of thoughts that are
          yours make my thinking chores..
          Yoyou's escape the strings one bound around
          worlds lost and found walking dogs to chase it's
          wind.
          Yet I miss you when the boat leaves your harbor
          tasting small waves that rock such a large ship
          running blind with no lights swells in fog.
          Only wedgies of time slice pies thick crusts inside
          limes of keys in the bottoms west this week and next.
          Until then please let the cake cool before leaving
          the ice cream as the wind of the dog once flown
          always comes back scented of vanillas extracted
          as does Beatles musk unleavened in bread.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                   706
          i have no time, can i touch 'it' just one last time..?

          yes
          so it is
          It is so pink
          how can i find my way in
          it is only uncovered for its modesty
          it beats within a hurried warmth inside you
          inside i feel you try the boundaries
          it is uncovered now today
          it is so pink
          it is so
          hot
          is it
          you
          pinker
          winkers
          richer.............................................................

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                 707
          I Hear

          ......singing do you?

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   708
          I hear you and I don't

          When listening to the wind
          can I hear the leaves say
          what is on your mind you
          betcha.When passing in
          trees the leaves hear me
          see and ask what were the
          thoughts of the others that
          passed by my leaves may
          I ask if it's pleased.Being
          pleased the leaves pass
          onto me a leafy breeze it's
          heard my song it wanders
          on back into the tree free
          of obligations past thought.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   709
          i hide in your fat

          It is safe
          it is going
          nowhere
          it is you
          it excepts
          you this is
          you fat is
          safe in you
          you are fat
          it is in me
          I am in you
          first to hide
          where it is
          safe afraid
          you are it
          is a trade
          me in you
          it is a safe
          trade you
          are to fat
          I am to you
          in you safe
          it is I you to.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   710
          I Ignored The Moment

          Dear Synonymous,

          ...) it(was with a blood filled head..that I relieved
          your hands....headaches..) it(s..are..pounding....
          heavily stained are your drawers...crotch is very..
          crooked and need be thrown away..the tailor will
          service me in the morning..breaking even the....
          crotch will be left out of..) it(s..fresh air is good for
          your hair..curly the price of a pub...is some..milk
          ..) it(s..good for the soul...I will do Donna's to night
          ...) it(..is a tight fit..the..tunnel is slippery and moist
          ...and the heart of the soul..is easily missed..just in
          case..I.will try all of..the doors..if..) it(s..open...the rug
          ..I..will clean on my own..cindy..our neighbor is always
          trying to milk..my goat..she complains for the smell
          of..) it(s..cheese..speaking of which..is Joan on the
          out side of her chest..are two jugs..very fine.are they
          constantly running when maned to pump..by hand...
          Going..) it(..is that I must..I will be inside of your love
          ..to soon..pulling back..) it(s..time
               ....) it(s...lovenly..bad.
          ...over..in you..) it(s..mad
          ...) it(s..love...................) it(s...you..n..me

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                            711
          I just a lttle, Watermellon

          You trace my vine upon you......ripe..
          grasping fullness in hefty weight....
          bursting seeds desire release..swollow..me.
          to plant...labored full red meat...gushes
          running from your mouth.....
          tongue tip licking lip..pink.....
          returning again and again..always ready..never gone./`: `\

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                        712
          i just went blind

          My ignorance you ignored
          my snoring to
          from the land of the sun
          going up you
          welcomed the other noises.
          Knowing the sound is just
          another form of energy
          expressing it's self it is better
          than a fence keeping neighbors
          away.
          When we speak it is as if it were
          the first time mistaken belief it is
          fear just makes it more exciting.
          Our daughter as is self rising flour
          when sun hits her face
          she rises.
          By the time you read this some one
          else will be mad at me I just can't
          keep my fingers from giggling.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   713
          I kePt youR Hand wHen You diEd

          It is perfumed daily
          with you
          your scents bodily
          fluid
          drained days past of
          fate
          how you did what you
          did
          such a small space
          was never
          understood leaving it
          only your
          hand
          under my cheek when
          you
          sleep beneath my head.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   714
          i know you are the last woman on earth but

          You don't care
          that I am a lesbian
          trapped in the body of mood the dude
          I know I'm the last mood
          in this dance as well
          you know as well as I
          the parts to the puzzle are not the same
          you can't force them
          plus the radiation on your utters
          will have you seeing your tail
          I don't think we came from eggs
          it is best I think
          if we go to sleep to it
          try again in a million thousand years
          it is just a wink in the eye of one last dream.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive             715
          i know~snivel~

          when i am with you
          you make me eat to.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   716
          i laugh

          Water blows to stand inside
          driven cracked air
          flashed brlliant light
          claps sound hollow
          thunder jumps
          splinters say
          It Is You With Whom I Speak.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   717
          I lay my flame

          Floating from one life,
          to the next.
          I within you,
          bacame confused,
          passions fire fused,
          my soul to one.
          I wander,
          as a cripple,
          how fare you?
          Reading your speak,
          In you, do I lay.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   718
          I learn

          To read:
          i must always,
          try harder.
          Just for you.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   719
          i lie to you because

          You fake snivel
          a runny nose
          i need to clean.
          You need protection
          from you
          more than you
          need yourself to know
          what is you.
          It helps you understand nothing
          keeps you in my control
          here where you belong
          practicing on daily new yous.
          You become used to it
          over the years and finally realize
          it was in your best interest to stay you
          with pink lips and blond hairs of you
          blue eyes of youness always you.
          When you look in the mirror
          you are always beautiful never seeing you
          you turn to me and i point you back to you
          where you stay never knowing of you
          which is what you know is you
          you are all that matters just you so i lie.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive         720
          i look up, through a pebble..

          I fell to hard, to fast, with no warning.
          A gust of wind, my leaf from the woods.
          Under the pebble, a bad place to be looking up.
          There are millions of them, every where
          I see the aardvark, I tremble her, in wake..I am, ..

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                  721
          I lost my gun in an unauthorized holster

          Weeping silently
          lest she think
          me a sniveler
          patients was the lost
          virtue
          running around seeking
          me.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive      722
          I Love Life Como Você

          é a minha vida alegre costear
          un ouviram sons
          pensar que você
          sentimento coração além
          Me cegam para você meu amor.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   723
          I Love You, I Hate You

          I   hate you, I love you
          I   hated how you drank so much, I love that I dont
          I   hated how you did me, I loved how I did you
          I   hated the way you did our kids, kids loved the way I treated them
          I   hated how you used my meds, I love that I stopped taking them
          I   hated that you were vain, I love seeing I no longer am
          I   hated that I did your job, .I love that I learned some thing new
          I   hated that I forced you to get help, I love my daughter as a result
          I    hate that you made me run for my life, I love the people I met Here
          I   hate how you made me love you, I love you for my freedom
          I   hate that I had to do all the cooking, I loved what I cooked
          I   hate looking in the mirror I might see you, I love looking at new me
          I   hated that we were the same size, I love and needed to gain weight
          I   still hate you, I love myself even more

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                      724
          i lunched

          Thin waffer is thinner
          than me, consumed (I) .

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   725
          I May Just Over Look it

          Their pockets without stain garment's
          gain bulk when returned from
          the cleaners.
          Write in mind juxtaposed Diem feeds
          the wayward carps lost home.
          Gavels stay hidden when voices rise
          accusations sniffle souls when
          traffic slows.
          The market cultivates specific crops
          when magicians continue to saw
          U.S. in half money flows not.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   726
          I may or may not

          Change the way the world looks it
          depends on how I see it
          through your eyes.
          The world you paint is of music,
          clefts of divinity, spires of rapturous heights,
          voids of measured depth, trails that walk
          you to the very brink of loves gate, others
          I fumble at the dagger in my heart left there
          by some jealous wench with dirty knickers,
          yes of you I am so. she, is forgiven.
          please bless your hand you hold dear) it(s hard writting with my toes..

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                     727
          I Mean *

          Exactly what I say no
          cover to spare
          threadbare.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   728
          i miss, love

          I am your friend
          cut me, pull that
          trigger, bit me,
          drink of me, rip me
          let me
          just push that
          button, please
          just one more time.
          Then I will go away
          but hallways remember, the walls
          window sill corners all come back to you.
          One last time for more, of the same.
          You do still love me, write...only me....I love you to..

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                      729
          I Muse To My Self

          People all around the world of none would
          I so speak must think
          me daft.
          Mode of travel auto land in their paths most
          airtran fixed the blinding of all eyes come
          lay me down to sleep.
          All are real what ever time no company in sleep
          forever deep my mind
          does roam.
          Reality of all some see the basking light of
          warmth thats never lost.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive             730
          I Never Was Just An Old Dream*****

          Never can such a dream held
          in the bosom of your heart
          wonder free.
          Enter the whisper of soul
          and light lovingly
          bright and soft.
          Velvet is a touch of wind
          that graces bloods
          fairest of hearts.
          Exit the tears of doubt that
          cloud your sunny day.
          Remember all the rivers and
          streams lead to you.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   731
          I Paint Your Face

          Picture perfect blush a cheek feathered
          faintly brushed a lisa moaned
          sweet lips with you.

          Athens never waited venus saw before
          your birth sretching hand fingers
          stroke hot tempered
          brow is true.

          Inside a bottle lays no mith smokey tendrils
          lay adrift floating make up was
          a trip always late
          with you.

          Noting face never flawed music words tounge
          have told beauty face always
          bold trembled breath
          I held.

          Treaty eyes a silver lense cameras snap all
          pictures sends a golden bolt the
          arrow weights a graceful
          age new hue.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive          732
          I Paint Your Lips

          With soft caress gentlest shade
          of honey suckle rose.
          The dew from the morning next
          settles in the corner of
          your lips I graze inside
          of you crazed
          I smell you and your as fine as
          the last dropp of
          my wine.
          Drink it well.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   733
          i pAwNeD..DadiES...GuN

          i am desperate, who do i turn to.She cares but is
          powerless to help me.
          Hipless key still fits, is this lock, so stiff, it carries all
          over running oils.What was saved from whom, for what?
          Skirt's holster, stiff after fingers useless tugs, are now
          abandoned, for a better known highway.
          Daddies gun wears no scratch, blemish free dark full
          metal chested, i shudder at the hole, the eye of horizon
          blankets all the world, is cracked deeply my crust.
          Addicted power unharmed spent returned packed
          preloaded, i turn it over to be rammed home, sucklers
          crib of glass shelves all see into, held so lovingly by
          it's pawned new owner....fat, bald, missing all her teeth..

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                            734
          i peek into,       another window

          this is my secret window, no one
          knows about, but you.
          yet there is one, who does not know, on
          the phone we now speak, unalone.
          she is thin, so thin, beautifully so, she does
          not know within this her, the other one, is herself.
          she talks about nothing, every thing, like one
          such as herself, would want to do,
          just chatter lonely talk, when no one cares.
          i see her through this other, mine, herself, within lookin.
          we just went out, for lunch, i forced her, i said i would
          withhold my love, from her, if she did not eat today.
          I see her hugging my throne, she is royal, she is mine,
          she is me, she cries...all alone...always hungry, for my love...

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                              735
          i peek, as she peeks, apeeker, peeking

          i look at the window, the curtains move in
          an airless room, deja vi the feeling in it's self
          always new, when i think this thought that i think in you.
          what is it, that makes it you, you thinking of me watching
          you, want to look for me in, some think, oink, of you
          that feeling just grows..in hues of pink...
          a door is cracked, i check for your traps, most unusual
          to be left ajar, the hairs on your brush are all there.
          mentionables, perfume the air, the scent is stunning
          in electric, i only mention them to you because i know,
          you are watching me, while i search, in you with
          me watching, our eyes abort one another makes me grow
           heavy, thick and so strained as i move,
          in a dream, slowly it seems, to your bed on the floor,
           by the wall, where i fall.
          it is all there, where i left it, st rune about, white, pinks, purples
          yellow as bright as the flower much worn, on a forest is grass
          always sweet, never torn, never known.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                    736
          i peeks into,        another window

          when the white silk drapes, come open at night,
          my whole being, anticipates scenes, that were
          forever lost to me, as a child, until she came.
          she comes back around,
          at around fivefourty five, time never lost, like a train.
          she has a four sided cottage, in the center of our square,
          surrounded by us, her lovers wheel so paired.
          we hurry, us, all of us, to big a crowd, averted eyes we
          wonder blind, until the night, her personal crowd of hosts.
          she stands in all her glory, shoulders back, aureole pink,
          profiled she stands the mirrors wife, with silks rag buns of steel.
          on the stool outside her door, rest this jar we have come to know well,
          it's filled to the top with gifts, joys boyyo green.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                     737
          I Retreat Inside Of Me

          Lost vales in holy
          unwinding
          scent of familiarity.
          Waterfalls white hair
          flowing unfolding.
          Space never occupied
          spoken not
          a secret.
          Small small bird sings
          sending feathery
          chills
          unlike the ice of dreams.
          Rain of thoughts without end
          planting a field
          of hope.
          Sleeping a sleep lap
          thats always yours
          my head lays.
          Moon of your face to mine
          dark ink eyes
          unbroken.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   738
          i sea a path

          It is now so very narrow it
          leads between two waves.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   739
          I See It*

          Every where I turn hands
          holding doors
          letters with such sweet
          scents
          you wonder where the
          flowers are
          the snowmobiles to
          deliver them with
          the green is under the
          snow as are we
          counting it I see.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   740
          i see you

          You lay in the sun, oiled nice and fresh
          near the water.
          The tide is comming in, the little meals
          are swimming, as fast as they can.
          From Mr.Snookums.
          Happy meals run for thier lives, along a
          southern mangrove.
          Not being ignorant, and having washed
          in this before, the butterfly rests on your
          tan breast, Exposed as well, in wonder!

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive         741
          I see you yet you see me not

          The dreams you are
          come more frequently
          cinnamon is color
          sequin is dressed.

          Flirt whys blushed of
          rushing yards sheer face
          flaunting grace
          aged in perfection.

          Blemishes
          stored in hand never
          displacement provocation
          held out is
          without cause
          seeking my forgiveness.

          Open palm is eye
          suggestion lays slain
          man is tear
          mirror that is you
          deep sleep.

          Pleading this
          that is you
          in it is always
          refracted truth
          shattered it is to
          smokelessness.

          Do you watch?
          are you deaf?
          do you care?
          have a care!
          open my eye! ...please...listen to me..

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive     742
          I simply march on to you

          Rivers edge
          your moat so safe
          you doze
          plastic bottle our boat
          we fly to you in breeze
          we bustle
          our feet marching on
          towards you a final victory
          carrying your keys to the car
          life's hustle is sandwiched
          in a hollow tree in glee we flee
          mission accomplished.......

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   743
          I sleep to happily

          Seren to me each night
          room unchanged
          thresholds
          laying asleep
          lightly waiting.
          Pillows on her chest
          hold my head
          leading south north
          lands of comfort
          promised by she I sleep.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   744
          I Stay Hidden

          So I can read all I want and give out
          hundreds of anonymous tens
          to you all.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   745
          I Talk In My Head, So You Wont Hear Me

          Corncopia smothered wine the cheese
          I eat from your mouth
          matters not if upon your cheeks
          it layed
          of men I know nothing of why should I
          they should all go away so I could please you
          as you deserve with soft weanny words
          Bla Bla Bla have you sign a disclaimer
          if you injure your s3e you did) it(for love none other
          any where would so lamidly this soundithly crookidneckidly up.
          the way you like it..
          Two left feet that bleet in your ear
          all the time non stop..Pause for unheard breast
          the test of tricked time..

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                            746
          I thought you jumped already

          It is not far
          it takes
          only a few
          short
          seconds
          pillow of
          soft water
          cession
          your hearts
          dream of echos
          fall bent on
          daddies shore
          rocky ledge
          stopped
          in midair
          for ever
          waiting
          his fall at your
          knees
          so you can shoot him
          over and over and over
          sweating until you are spent of it.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   747
          i traded my baseball mitt, for you? ...

          It was an uneven trade
          my baseball mitt
          for her
          what do I do with her
          I saved the balls
          she told me to
          during the trade
          unaccustomed to the quaintness
          of her
          I reach for her
          she
          goes to the rings in the wall
          taking my towels out
          she directs me to tighten
          the collars
          I comply bewildered
          she
          looks at me as if
          I could do that which she is thinking
          I comply
          she then instructs me to do
          what you
          her previous owners did
          again I comply
          her last request before she
          died
          was to be placed in your bed
          so she would never miss another base ball game
          while you died
          watching her as she
          watched you.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive            748
          I traveled today

          Back to the land of turtles
          where I wish to remain
          though can't unless
          allowed to roam the land
          free as once I was.
          I am, a turtle fragile hole
          comforts me in such is home
          snug womb mother to all
          dreams salvaton is one
          it is only thinks of..the.one..she.
          she is a battle to one not I
          I it is she is to me.short.sweet
          versed to keep in me I sleep.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   749
          I Tremble At The Thought

          Knowing my feet glide through your forest
          softly stirring leaves on your
          meadows shore.
          Water stream I have find willingness to
          share so drink off thee.
          Back this canoe up lets try again.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive       750
          I wash my feet to..(..well sometimes...every time when you are around..(

          We came from dirt whats with all these
          neuritic freaks who move it from pile to
          pile under the rug.
          Humble is a foot in some mouths may
          they all be washed clean.
          Treading paths well worn in the....other
          ....persons shoe
          do you not leave traces of the path on all
          the others to.
          If the lumps on the rug were a chest would
          it need larger bras every day..hear me say
          ..I'm talking to you..
          Fools are fools pretending you are means
          your not when you say that you aren't are you
          smarter than some in the dirt of your mind
          trying days in the trials of your wife.
          Dirt that flees has a quick broom behind it as
          any good man in a mind full of dirt really should.
          Sometimes I wash my feet to when you are
          never around.
          Some times I'm out and about just playing the fool.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                      751
          i wash you feet because

          i wash your feet,
          because you,
          need to stand again,
          all day in anothers needs.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   752
          i will climb down, to you..and wait..

          Working, front's, word, is lines.
          One step, backs up the other.
          In your palm are all my, softer) I(s.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   753
          I will find out tomorrow, about yesterday, today

          My bladder is full
          in it's bursting,
          every day at the same time.
          I forget to go in school, bullies and all,
          i keeps this to my self.
          Just wish out of all the girls here, the
          same one it seems every day, sees me in
          the same spot, adding my dreams to her streams.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive              754
          i will not dread the spread

          Do it all for you, even your wash
          secrets to keep.
          While you eat my breakfast with
          memories cheese bits and grits.
          Spreading toast, baskets of cloth.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   755
          I woke Up drunk

          Tattooers covered me from head to toe
          all my body hair was gone and
          it is cooler now.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   756
          I Work With Retarded Fish When I am Not Catching People Watching Me

          Hunger is fasting always eating bubbles asking
          for a people stick on which to chew.
          Leaking tears of spice to mellow tast of you.
          Sitting on a bay of sunken docks sniffing reused
          questions fixing clocks flakes of mind floating by
          a big deluge.
          Baby fish in fluid takes no druid stones where
          crazy people seem to lay angle fish swimming
          close to shore hooked up with you.
          Even a retarded fish can bend the rule floating
          in a sea bent ruler way to fat to throw you back.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                 757
          i would erase you

          The dream
           in the
          woods' would come
          back even worse.
          One is to mean to me.
          Still, and again, I forgive you.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   758
          I Wrote You Butt

          Your moon has need to guide me, through the
          valleys narrow dream.

          My torso has no arms your hand to grasp of
          toe less feted pencil in my nose
          i write to you.

          Inside your mind a picture forms a he artful
          page of ink my single eye
          can see.

          Senses under water trees some bark on skin
          feels kisses all the same
          to me.

          One cheek on buttock slit the sea a handy
          crease runs free lost pants that fit
          just right.

          Teeth through cheek of face displaced now
          ask of you could love me still
          tongue in mouth be still
          don't laugh at me.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive          759
          i, do not mind, that you do not bathe.....

          I tried to kiss your feet
          before the ground can
          clean, them.I let you do
          as you would, I to, do not
          grippe you, as I should.
          The bed you sleep in with
          me not smelling the same
          since you died, two years
          ago this comming, spring.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive        760
          I, Look at You, just to Blush

          Nipplet's Pink drops dew.
          Dries on your thigh, covered.
          I tarry, I tremble, me inside?
          I blush, to beggar you a warm
          mile, your smile is my feast.

          In awe, I look around at your banquet.
          My eyes linger, softly at the Den of Edens swell.
          He the God lays in Mona's fruit adorned.
          Thorn less the bud lays exposed to his touch.

          He graciously extends his hand to her, and asks>

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive               761
          i, really do, can you?

          Understand, that you exalt your self
          falling on the sword, to slow my mind.
          They are all separate, as are pages in time.
          Mind, body soul, stoic psychic finds, much to dine.
          The men, most hate me, Edgeless ego, child they find.
          Tell me, flies come to honey, I would eat the honey..I am dumb..
          Religious Helot, pearls and swine, which..sadly, I am..to reply..
          I think every flying pink pig, ....must have...
          should have just one pair of pink pearls to try.
          So Mary, fed me milk and wept..

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                               762
          if lead were as dense is it

          Look! it passes right through it.
          Why do you make it look like major surgery?
          You make it sound like it's..
          Tissue microarray sections help de-waxedin
           xylene, re hydrated in alcohol,
          and immersed in 3% hydrogen..
          when it is glue past and pull........
          So as the peroxide is placed in your ear,
          it still tickles you to sneeze...I smile...you laugh..
          as I do in the mirror of these books,
          I slave over to please some teacher,
          who really could care less.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                    763
          if i am but your coin...why..spend me

          Parting smiles we have not seen of yet
          lips that move without speaking to me
          blinding eyes knowing seeing all in you
          fingers that pad on the soul lost in pain
          toes that wiggle my nose bewitching me
          my body goes where the elevator takes it
          highways that lead back to the beginning
          smelling what your nose hastily left behind
          oceans I swim to stairways in your mind
          your legs carry me to wait on all the others
          lines with knowledge being forever empty
          sleeping wisdom's last parade of hope
          freezing depths that never fill with shame
          emotions colors most have killed to sweep
          fast moving currents body takes them all
          falling forever staying in one spot moving
          bullets of time passing through me bends
          fashioned souls of sleep your heart receives
          while I lay on the floor weeping at all of your feet

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                  764
          if i do it, you can't tell

          Words roll in never ending waves
          from shores of oceans long lost
          from minds of all.
          Tongues like yours carry a sentence
          of death for we whom
          crawl at your feet.
          Queen of pain that renders sight
          outrageously sane sipping wine.
          Firm is firm in the voice I hear call
          your name fleet is your foot standing
          upon my back wresting your joys in
          hand firm such grip gently applied
          in times of need lost in washed agony.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive    765
          If I Do You Will You

          In pain of heart my chest your hand
          I held for you to soon depart
          of life all ways I stayed.

          Life to me a single breeze in mind to
          find a pause in rhyme so kind
          of you to say.

          Haughty nought with eye not blind with
          mind to play a simple loving
          song for you.

          Take this soul I give to you in prayer of
          thought was never bought returned
          as found to you.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive       766
          if i go with you

          do i need to pack
          it to or leave it be.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   767
          if one wink today takes forever

          Noise, lights, cashed,
          is was in it's heavenly,
          forever.Yet still, it blink.
          Waits on some day,
          maybe again, oceans.
          The ground is silt, taste
          fresh new, is soft, to rich.
          One seed, drifts, tossed
          in void, washing clouds.
          Under skies bed, watch.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   768
          If she knew that sand

          How many nights
          I spend in shcool
          just so she can be
          proud of me..

          I sleep on a swing
          attached to
          her portch
          in need of her dreams.

          Shores of mine
          hold no more
          or less
          sand
          raging stormy days
          I have found.

          Untill the day
          she
          stopped comming around.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   769
          if she won't forgive

          So what! ...lol..Will I die..yes..
          she waits I wait with her
          we wait together
          neither
          seeing each other for
          egos pride wrath..?
          scorned not begging
          scents since
          time began my fall
          as your tree your personal tree
          having to wait I wait having
          died
          I wait as your lover
          plants the seed
          again allover
          Your posted valley waiting
          growing tall strong vibrant
          within you ever same it's breadth.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   770
          If You Are The Bear

          I am a dear wrapped in your robe.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   771
          if you catches me, what then

          Would you yell, scream at it, beat on it some more?
          Would you complicate,
          it's simple mind to speak not, ever more?
          Would you tell it, you love it, when really you dont?
          Would you love it, never speak those words,
          it washes feet to hear?
          Would you tell it, you cannot understand a single
          word, you hear?
          Would it simplify,
          it's simple world,
          if it just despaired in all it's pain,
          it'swell that knows your shielded soul of fear?

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                   772
          if you think that ain't natural..try some of this each day...bi or gay....just...tri

          Dear Mixed Brains you gain,

          Headless sky
          watches eye of you
          back is your hand smiling
          tempting my skin to weep it's cuts
          cloth of white you smack of lips in pout.

          Weapon loves in hand
          brandished sterile razors clips
          raising ship
          your wish manipulates tight nerves unseen
          but by only you
          face of masks is room of dare
          others watch unknowingly wipes browless eyes.

          Concentration
          felts cloth a blot of your reward
          to render
          pleasures gown
          costless those twin peaks budding growth
          dripping me
          slowly down your arms held by cups unseen.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                                  773
          if you think that ain't natural..try this...

          Before Ellawaswise before ellawasone
          ellawasyou
          don't interlock yet please
          when ellawaslittle she
          knew
          how? ..> keep that in mind
          ella was more than wise
          she had every day planed before she was you
          ella studied all psychology
          not only yours but every one else's
          when ellawisedup she
          came knocking on the door..yes
          you listened
          she understood your pain your hunger
          your drive
          knowing this you drove any way
          this drove
          ellawisewild
          taking advantage as is the way of a true
          capitalist
          you fell asleep when ellawasyou and
          dreamed the dreams of Solomon
          he giving ellaenlightened in psychology
          without 3rdegree
          you realized you had been burned
          taking what was yours
          thus creating ellawasnt tried or caught cheating
          trying to consume the role of zofty zo in ellaville...

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                    774
          if your name is

          Under a pile of space dung you found me....
          You, not all but some stop at nothing...
          Moving piles of it to take the speck of me
          in gold you see.....
          Looking asleep with eyes painted lids...
          Strange and scary are these places you
          look for me to see your face...
          In the looking you the few the one see my face...
          Others grew weary in the search for the mask of truth.....
          It is to hard they wanted gold from the fillings
          not that from under the dung of years heaped
          hopes lost children.......
          Do I blame them..no...I am the blame I placed
          the gold under the dung
          hoping beyond hope.....
          I was not dissatisfied in your effort you moved a
          mountain of dung to find a ray of the golden son
          found only once before
          found in
          you..........................................................................

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                           775
          ignorance snivels to

          I sail
          knowing as a child
          i am watched as is
          in premeditation's
          thought he knew of.
          Folly fools he laughs
          me to
          mote of minuscule of
          dust he plucked from.
          Pockets so haloed is
          his sand my mind he
          always held dearly so
          you could hourly fix the
          tone of moods drifting
          word.
          Posted trees do read
          my rugs never cleaned
          is a footless beggar to
          beggared your heart felt
          a plea.? ...waits...years..
          Heard was a boy fiddles
          crabs soft violin fishes do
          hop without legs to his only
          bucket
          waiting on you to
          teach
          him to cook a little better..do?

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   776
          Ignorant* Am*I* Of*Your*Ways

          Blissfully unaware breaths care last
          sighed to me.
          Willowy green leaves of which I
          bleed tree tops bent.
          Graceful breaze to stir my heavy chest
          of tresure yours.
          Hold it not for I may loose my way.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive    777
          Ildeth

          Bosh glasses, with
          cool wets, suns might.
          Ash runs around you.
          Exploring, salty ground.
          Berift lots, ever thirsty.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   778
          illusion is false control

          My imaginary friend,
          used to ride it,
          on a two teamed paired, hay wagon.
          Muscles do strain,
          pulling up reins,
          to let up push down,
          is the break in a well.
          One night, after arriving back at her ranch, hot sweaty.
          My friend asked, why do you look at it that way?
          What other way, can it see?
          It is a false since of grain, it labors and strains for
          control of the horses and hay! ..
          How is it sir: ?
          Why have you come to say that? ..It watches you drive,
          every night.
          The horses are blind, across and along,
          the same dusty trail for going on nigh, seven years,
          yea, it recons so.
          They have found there way back, many a night, all by
          a doves, lonesomes trail.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                      779
          i'm askin polite cut me down

          Bricks I have counted sleeps now forever
          in chains on wall you moan my test of rest.
          Cracking sockets wrent cause harm to
          you bring weird gratification reverser
          charm for a word thought fun most here.
          Puppies in skins of woman men setting
          hall rooms dance with air your sin found
          twisting and turning crying burning foul
          your own private hell wasting me away.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive         780
          imaging imitation

          We must need to affix blame where it will go
          it is the American way......) at least most do(it
          is a land of laws, the lawless are captured at
          night on. t.v...
          Reality shows of the living dead -dead brains
          dead pans dead human beings swapping mom.
          These religious shows proffering powers to
          heal the lame and the injured, waving thier paws
          misbeleading the souls in dire need blind is the
          sheep in wolves clothing.
          It is sad as a child politics did watch..different story
          that was then now...
          when I see those armed men comming arms that
          cannot quit wiggling I panic fall asleep to bottle of
          Kim beam eating barnyard buzzard.
          like the second comming.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                      781
          In The End its

          Everything that you dream **WORLD** more.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive       782
          in the garden, of plush is eve

          Today, you can tell by the stagnant air,
          it stinks, the wind is still, the garden calls our names.
          It is a garden of domination, tormenting, even the staunched
          of goats, as we bravely, walk into that bush, of thorns.
          To know the why, we stay in side the path, we thought we
          knew so well.
          Walking, ginger soft of foot in wind, it reaches out a thorn
          filled hand to couch us so, and bring us to the chest.
          Today in and of the stagnant air, the garden calls the name it
          wants to call,
          the rest will dream the song as it was meant for them to hear.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                            783
          In The Middle Of London

          I gave her a farthing for her last smile
          being american I do not know how
          much that was did I pay to much.?

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive      784
          in the note of oink, is Beethoven b sharp

          Your mind is lazy,
          what is the first thing,
          that came to your mind..
          do not be offended,
          i smile in you, it would change that.
          In your ocean of pink it does play, you *sigh*,
          the rest is just music,
          musics you make, they are, are they not?
          One lost key in the cord Beethoven played,
          that you cry.
          If it looks in your sifts, you oink,
          when the pinks are stirred
          you oinks,
          yet if you insist in the first strain of thought,
          whats the use in you,
          never a woman, K-mart chopped.
          Yet, you know..a professorial at what ever you do..
          These colors are you, you may change, they do not,
          mystical forest,
          always changing the vines that cling.
          Those sounds stop..listens, think back..
          always clean never dirty.
          This great void never filled,
          within a void, within this your
          awesome pinks,
          in which It sleeps,
          inside your dreams..I hear oinks.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                 785
          in the woods?

          i see you in the bathroom
          through the hole, you do to
          smoke pot.
          You said you were a good girl,
          what do you do in the woods.
          What do the other girls with
          you do in the woods.?
          i see you and them bring things
          in yet nothing comes out.
          yesterday i saw you and Denise
          take mark in the woods with Tammy
          and Jane, where is mark
          i have not seen him in school for a week.
          Tammy, the four of you are really hot,
          listen be quite, do you want to touch them?
          yes!
          i will go with you
          to look for mark, sure, where?
          i will meet you all in the woods, wait for me.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive            786
          in trust, her wish list

          Way, yes way
          I buy her cloths
          palaces are pleased is
          eloquent lined rack
          when shopping for.
          Piety on pout chaste Catholic in
          Glori's task
          reads navy blue
          white socks red
          cap busted
          back wash of pink.
          Baptist tree sleeves
          a gazelle of grace
          legs length
          slim traced calves foot
          is swift to outrun
          preachers son.
          Modest exposure releases
          flanks
          gathered mercies a breath
          when ruffles lay
          for troops in yellow daisies.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   787
          in walking

          Feet stay the same
          annoyingly
          unpainted some
          say
          glass of lead
          is color of head
          eyes are different
          each day
          Feet stay the same.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   788
          in you, it is so very heavy...

          I look up, into your leaves, like rain washing down
          to the sea.
          I do not mind, the hard times, i hold still, as dirt and
          sticks, dust my face.
          The loggers came in, while i was gone, i did not know
          i glance around on the ground, with nothing to show.
          Our clear spot that we made is still here, shirtless i
          stray from the path, we walked to shed our fears and
          doubts, with all that we said: i still wander this way, every
          now and again, despit the weather i find, it washes my face.
          Today, i brought a new friend, i know you will not mind, her
          name, is Terra, she is just a small tree, one day she will grow
          up and be all that you are..
          Holding armfuls of children in swings, as they sing about bees.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                             789
          Incased* In *Fire* This *Ice

          Beltching wind of ice rains down this fire
          scorching boulder chips hide behind
          minds eye.
          Lightning roars thunder seeks her skirt
          tornado plies violent is his sport.
          Rushing water fills your mind with fear
          hear the name of he does
          fly inside.
          Gental is the breeze who cleans this up.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive        790
          Infinity Once Found

          Brilliant brother found lost sister orbiting my island
          where I cook all do blister
          layinging in my sand.

          The guf of endless souls to eye winding through
          eternity fathom thoughts
          to sea.

          May we tread upon the shore never lost from all
          just blind for lack of tears.

          Foam of waves the froth of music never leaving
          sothing mind of fears.

          Knowing that the boat we sail forever holds us dear.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                    791
          innocent flower, is love to a snail...

          Salt was a trap laid so still at night, around
          her blush so pink, frail bloom hid the eyes of heaven, softy
          dripping is necktie in dew form.
          A branch of eternity, blows her wind, I tumble in to the scents
          of her yesterdays, washed clean, by her breath.
          The bamboo sighs, in regret, sprouting one more long leaf.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                             792
          inside the alliance is you

          With whom do you side, signed by you.
          Whom do you choose by choice,
          to undue you?
          How came you to owe such a debt,
          it being free?
          Would you speak to it's associate?
          It is one simple plan that owe your self.
          To make sure your allegiance,
          is to the alliance of words, spacial is the infinite
           mind that will unzip your books to check.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                  793
          inside you

          i swim for my life, every thing Rich's,
          big parties..
          deep swimming pool, night times,
          blue royals, wazoo.
          i laughs..i fumbles another, .wiggling finger,
          is numb blind.
          i lay upward, so still, pictures
          they the, many are faces, is this heaven.
          her tears took zest, once salty,
          party hat flavors, ruins is a once face shiny.
          this cold metal box, is to keeps
          frozen once lushness, brittle little pubes, once loved me.
          where is my party hat, where is me, outside..
          can you not see me? ..look..here i am, over here.
          it haves been drinking, you are blind again to it.
          the saw of many teeth, is wiser than him,
          he would at least ask me, before he ate into me.
          i left throughout, the me, on my chest the big...deep why......

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                             794
          inside your heart

          In your silence
          I can hear every breath
          in and out in and out
          your sighs
          wistful longings from
          your eyes at the window.
          I know of your impatience
          I feel the lightening in the
          muscles of your thighs
          buttocks tightening of
          your diaphragm your
          shortness of breath
          in such simple thought
          as your longings
          give way to irritability
          as you are faithful and
          entertain no thoughts of
          others.
          I have been here all along as when I go away
          I pull up a chair and watch your love
          from the safty of your heart.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive          795
          Insperation***

          Can come from the back door, is
          Always away from pencil or pen.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   796
          Intertainment Holds Sway

          Whatever pays the rent..
          Spell check is nice so
          is Bling Bling.. If) it(speeds them in they will sing
          to there own tune anyway
          they choose Bling and human being
          at same time even harder.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                   797
          into adark turn

          Shoulder, the heady curves, turns in us,
          blind crawl, on blind to get at the lights.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive         798
          is a Birth

          To embody serene quiet ocean
          warm moist dreams full
          eyes stars is need
          to temple holding
          secret holding candle blown as
          exploding world clothed is Lent's.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   799
          is ignorance

          Is it wave in a ocean
          never to touch warm
          face in sand of shore.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   800
          is it who's? sophistication in asleep! ..

          Is it wine that is water,
          to bread without meat?
          Is it pink breath, is to air
          without the rose, to eat?
          Is it new windows, of lead,
          to space cotton, ones head?
          Is Sophistication a long stem,
          of thorns pulled forever through,
          your fingers, it's offered other
          given hand, and stay asleeps.
          Will you, would you, can you?
          Show it how to be, forever not?

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive       801
          is it even a day

          It seems like two days in one,
          reversed,
          cut in two,
          then sown together backwards..

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   802
          is it Force of poetry it is

          Nameless days are not individual
          inclusive each other prevealed none.
          Pushing a struggle is pictures trust
          of word how long framed when said.
          Action externalizes thoughts can
          thought externalize action guess.
          Most are here not from any thought
          of premeditation or simple accident.
          Busts pedestaled beyond grasps hand
          letters climb latters shelved use latter.
          Simplicities tadpole hoping legs no
          days are not spent to remain nameless.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive       803
          Is It Milk You Utter

          Frequent shoppers
          are we all
          well in quite honey drew
          Bonny knobs
          fingered hand of milk
          in life he sought.
          Plastic lips shaking
          hunger driven through to you
          river streams all have dreams
          heavens dew I knew.
          Glasses full half in half cream
          butter such are lovers
          tipping arms that alaways churn
          lovely is her name to know.
          Flying cross green expanse
          eye to eye can't see it all
          wooden fences
          hungers sheen flavors misty sky I fall.
          Favors lace a silky place just in chance
          of line to time one play.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive      804
          is it not suggesting is it poetry

          It holds itself to your will,
          it is only a suggestion, it hides in your hair.
          Winter snow so pink upon my brow, the snow, is
          grace, not by the ugly plow, it's ugly mouth.
          Yet your will hides my face, birthed Beneath a skirt, it's
          warm, safer place my haven, from crows beseech ed.
          Tender it, with your kisses, be bold as the lioness, charge.
          Hold the poet, within you, eat the word live them.
          Does it hold your world, to drink the rose, for nothing?
          There is no door, it is your mind, you climb over to rush it.
          It is the blush, Niagara falls, to swell it's glory, in your smile,
          as the waves lap gently as a lion in sleep.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                 805
          Is it poetry..? ..blind me..?

          Is the Constitution poetry?
          Yet is justice blind? ..stop
          those two senteces, are all.
          I am blind, as well, yet I am
          proactive.Words change is
          yen..I will always greet you.

          You will not always, except me.
          Must a name, define you? ..Is
          I hide these words as most hide
          gold, for most spend them with
          good health, unwisely...It is I.....

          When you touch me, I will never
          be what I was, it is poetry or it
          was, I let you touch, is it poetry.

          Complicated words hide my base,
          think me through your beginning
          once was pure, now in hase taste
          unsure, I fear release, through you.

          Sour, bitter all tounges hide the
          chear of taste, when chasteless.
          You are chaste, most are, hide me
          from those, who chain me, inside
          the rock of time, even the blind sea.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   806
          Is It Rain

          Cotton soft mist drips onto my face
          are they not the tears of the lost
          all around gathered near.
          Torrents of life flooding this plain
          with you can I trust in this river
          again crossed with soul.
          Mindful of wind sail filled the chill
          heart of the rain quenched
          my fire.
          Oceans forever vast call your name.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   807
          is it that complicated yet it is

          It is complicated yet it is not
          it is never simple
          it can be a misunderstanding
          trivial doubts many.
          The bottom of a well any well
          always
          starts at the top.
          It's confusing predisposed to
          all reinterpretations
          again thought out from
          the bottom up.
          Trying to Trick a muse can trick
          the trickster.
          It is just play on words
          leaving he she tricked amused
          it is not I it isn't
          playing harm with such
          harmless question
          few do ask
          unto them selves lest to become
          suspect of distraction altered id.
          It is wary voice of beguiled
          honesty
          thinking it is what it isn't.
          It is not the first person or the second
          it is persons all
          it is out side of it looking down
          menagerie
          origins spun around and round
          without sound.
          It is you it is me inside every thing please sing.
          It is just two words of unimaginable importance not of I.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                       808
          is it that i push thoughts to hard

          Ignoring my thought thoughts had to

          speak lest I become to thoughtless.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   809
          Is It Time That Forgives

          It   is a perception rippled thought
          is   it oceans precept deepened.
          It   is hallowed water shallow not
          is   it tears of salt mindful sought.

          It is life in rain dropps gathered
          is it a thimble infinate pouring it.
          It is all I have I offer it my breath
          Is it dripping gathers all in vain.

          It is fleeting in your hand be still
          is it mercys finger humbly sought.
          It is beauty equaled cloud of sky
          Is it forevers path to ply on high.

          It is time is it not to ask now why.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   810
          is it where you lay? it is..to funny

          In it's jar on your shelf, watching you.
          You laugh that laugh, it knows it's true,
          as you watch it move.
          It fills your jar so full, so rushed, so plush,
          this your fabric of your smile a bedevilled jar.
          You sea right through, in waves is brushes fair.
          It is watching on your Sheffie, from your jar, it
          bounces crazy from the walls,
          contained it is, throne.
          Wont you please reserve the top and let it in?

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive               811
          is it yours?

          This that I found it never
          touched the ground.
          You dropped it what
          is it for can you tell me.
          It is warm and soft it
          breaths what is it hurry.
          I found you it wasn't hard
          at least not when I gave
          it back to you why run.
          I see it don't you run to fun.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   812
          is, he me....

          is he me, like she for free, the we to be in me?
          i dunno..? ..im confused, so much heat so blind i leak,
          he See's...
          a person that soars, ice in my breath, crystal shores.
          bright eyes, misty veils, floats on linen cotton hazy, so
          clean, i know he See's.
          a boyfriend, Misters need, only to bleed me out again,
          i watch him watching me, her greed to feel me, in him.
          wicked, wicked i shivers, i tremble, stutters, is to grasp, it.
          it is me, its always free, to walk softly inside, it weeps, to
          for me, it knows, me...it is always at my feet, looking up.
          i wonder, what does it see, in me? ..is it me, or the butter?

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                             813
          is, glass to me, in the pain, it flecks it's Payne

          I stand, alone in the wind, berift, tired
          and cold.
          The window glazed from ice, grand
          image, even grander.
          My pockets long to warm my hands.
          I stand looking at my dream, of that
          woman i want when i leave here.
          She is always perfect, well dressed
          i think she is a good mother, never do
          i see a scowl, frown, she is always here.
          A warm mug of milk and i will be found
          come morning under her skirt, asleep.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                814
          iss

          iss it secure, in safty is watch
          to quick? iss it lack, of suspension
          attention spanned-is smiled.
          iss it high just<iss, to dock iss.
          iss mysterious, it trembles to iss.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   815
          It holds two u cups

          It is you Regina,
          it's twin peaks is,
          snowy pink tips grace.
          It struggles to cup them,
          in it's egress, it's eagerness,
          to support your flow.
          It tangles it's lines,
          confessed, between them.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   816
          it is something about the utter

          Gently rolling it about the hand
          looking at the ends kneading
          checking one end against the
          other
          pleading asking sleeping on it
          I fianaly break down call the vet
          asking
          how is it that two of my utters
          give only chcolate milk?
          You did not ask for butter pecan.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   817
          It Is *

          Sometimes quite never not
          it is thus cold I shiver shake
          as did he mornful soul
          of old.
          Parchment of my flesh
          words my clothing
          binding of my mind
          haunt me not.
          Shelved at the doors
          of your finger tips
          eyes windows in
          the cover.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   818
          it is a desolate wave

          Jumbling imaginings not loves hate
          hates love tranquil sea rouge waves.
          Fields unknown alien thought thinking
          thinking thought loops eyes to cross.
          Nailing lid palette tongue cannot hear
          fearing fields lay shallow unmarked so
          renamed unknown anguish marking why.
          Senseless graves dug making no since
          personal ids to grovel loose paths brick.
          Roaming insecure pillow less head hurts
          medicating a numb tomorrows thought.
          Forever gracious thought to be or not
          baseless from which I came travel again.
          Humble thimble needles pin headed ant
          knows even it's destiny waterless in sand.
          Shimmering imaginative it is desolation to field

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive              819
          it is a drive by

          Rain windy day
          cloudless sky is
          blowing down to
          small roof top in
          woody island on
          top of the worlds
          biggest parade
          you drive right by.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   820
          it is a fickle scythe you sing

          Confusing words wheat grapes or rye
          beer liqueur wine
          big deal big difference
          in cost of words
          lost labor loves in rhyme
          Rome was Rome mixing the mask
          of the grape
          never late with a word or a deed in cup.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive      821
          it is a secret is it inside my head...It is

          It is every possible solution
          thought out inside twice
          because it to you is simple
          it is not to me is it
          It is a simple walk to the store
          is it
          it is not
          it is a journey into fifty paths
          is it a strait line crossing it
          is it another line crossing this
          it is as simple as laying it down
          straightening the s into the i
          and making a perfect circle with
          room left over to make a rest area
          then is speeds off to make it another.
          Reading me makes you slow way down doesn't)   it(.: . :)
          It is o.k.....I miss you is all...

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                      822
          it is always raining there no wonder you are fickle

          Felt me
          up down wrapped around
          sunless sleep O pea
          no pod fell out of
          Cobbled streets
          that weep no morning sun
          keep you nice and warm
          troubles brew to balmy calm to
          drink a cup of spirit free.

          Blighters bugger chilly winds
          Seattle's sail
          buggy rides availed you
          none
          falling
          falling falling
          oppressed a heartless art rare form today.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                 823
          It is always smiling at you also

          It is also more than a smile
          it is sparkle
          it is style
          it is unabashed
          it is your stead fastness
          it is knowing a rightness
          it is a tardy groan
          it is measured in waves
          it is one boat in your shake
          it is knowing no room for another.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   824
          It Is between Her Cold Glass Thighs

          It touches It cracks It weeps It sighs
          jabbing hurting this fine mind yours
          to waste treeless shore
          roseless scent robbed breath
          fallen throne weeping
          leering barren legs parted cave
          black snow loveless
          flake upon your sightless milk eye.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive    825
          It Is Dreamt

          It is much brighter her arms confessions
          sob trembled word convulsed tranquility
          webs finger soothing balm a lease
          doors windows never numbered painted
          darkened wisps hovering stealing skin
          pots catching lies last breath.

          Shiny abject sockets almond smell
          pull at lips cover a nose to stall
          full ripe breasts saggy tips knead knotted
          patched hair makeup absent lash
          hovers sweaty coughing pointing tongueless
          throbbing rooted full blooded made seedless.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive          826
          It Is Freedom

          Pillar warm flame moth of shame
          suffocating greed's wrap
          struggle it is her
          wing of despair
          It is my soul free of her blind pain
          endless without beginning
          scarred thoughts
          Tongue without mind laid to trap
          harsh bitter wind flies again to another.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive       827
          it is just a po little white boy

          It is not what it seems yet it is
          making a life as a po white boy
          makes you very much stream lined
          fast as the worlds slowest bullet
          I have a hard time digging hail
          poem bots are hard to do without
          yet I am drawn to you why just a low
          tone of husky sound in words said
          by you words my bot is not programed
          to do things you take for granted I have
          not done since you last had to much
          to drink and sent speedo to the air port
          any way say what you mean no fancy
          words just the meat inside of the potato
          love verbs use as few nouns as possible
          words like stop dont quit) it(s to much
          worlds spin like my head lips come
          undone mind fled sweaty salt sailing.
          Because I'm easy come never gone to long.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive       828
          it is just, a small thing

          The little wooden horse you gave me, when I
          came home from hospital.
          I watch you through the window, in your smock, planting
          a new garden.
          It is hot I know, I never tire watching you do some thing
          simple like drinking from a glass that was once dark blue now bleached from the sun,
          into some thing even more Unusual.
          You hang the white smock over the small wooden fence, the
          dear will come when you leave.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                                  829
          it is lost it is

          It is fine it is time it is thinking
          not of rhymes
          straightened corners round
          bound by thought
          words in a tree hung untouched.
          Hand innocence hungry breath
          days thought run to years tears
          banished never tasting tongue.
          Lips unsealed breath weeping
          words left beacon of
          solomon
          wisdom's parchment
          served left barren souls troubled
          sister brethren
          soil of food starving tree it's need.
          Time sheep fleeced mantles mind
          deplaned concepts
          void
          taste fruit cover blossom Vin in cold.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive    830
          It Is memory in solitude

          A single hanging bubble
          pulled by two strings
          one hand floats
          in a different direction
          pulling solitude it's
          ocean vast last memory.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   831
          It Is my head that's halved

          Rebirthed different path they would walk
          just to hear me think like a gun
          I think it is a long wait
          for you.
          Angels faced cords many sought answeres
          cought the wind and words
          is it new.
          Frail limbs weak knees creaking joints that
          grew in directions different.
          Teach my skin to recognize the breath when
          spilled my heart is stilled two dropps
          if mixed it's salt
          is you.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive         832
          It Is Never

          O.K. that's why we never have 2 start over..

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive          833
          it is oak...troll is with me....

          Scared worried harried
          mind hers jumps on
          whispers
          always hears
          howe will she suckle young
          chestless buckled in
          good eye used as spare
          spotting one
          he tries to flee
          bodyguard hauls his rude
          flutes back
          heard this mind mime
          of she you hurd yourself
          gasp....mulling
          sitting on him
          his words
          muffled she eats
          basking lost in his
          newly ground treat is this agony....

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   834
          it is only myself

          Blissful ignorace
          painfuly found
          lost
          never recovered.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   835
          it is only size when it is relevant

          Is it really that big adeal
          one that feels so good..
          Is it really good to feel
          that way all day..
          It is easy to spot you by
          just the way you walk.
          It is even easier to spot
          when you feel much to
          good when you talk and
          just stop lost in a fog.
          Is it me or is it something.
          I'm missing.....in..... :) it (: ...

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   836
          it is only wood

          You walk around it,
          you reach out to touch it,
          your hand moves right through it,
          how you,
          think to it,
          in though of it,
          would ask of it..it is simple,
          It does not know of it.
          It only swims in it..
          It is the truth..of it..
          It loves with it...
          It sleeps at your feet in it..
          It is your shoe, on it in care..
          You know it will run aground to the world in it,
          while you sleep in it, get into trouble in it.
          Now you smile in it,
          it smiles inside you, as it swells
          in waves of rushing blush.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive              837
          it is original the package

          It tears so easily,
          It was constructed by herself,
          to fit inside her jar of clay, that way.
          You gives it life, as such you takes away.
          It lives confessed inside the many,
          knowing grace.
          Regina, save it from it's self, the many strings.
          It's name has never, was so hidden from the blind.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                838
          it is oueightonetwo

          Funday hired lip's ooooooooed
          u r still missing
          two were as one
          after eight days still words sleep
          mondays luck played last friday.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   839
          it is small

          Be strong, and kind, in warmth, with
          this tree my life, i lay in this, hot blot
          of ink my head, that seems to cold,
          i moan, tremble, lost in rains, that pour
          in like a river from a brow, of satin, pain.

          I am carried over, i see other things, than it's dreams.
          Is it in me? ..It is in it....it is not what you think it is, is it?
          I will labor diligently, as always i have, in our pasts, lives.
          When i see you next, you will be confused, as i once was.
          it is was, riding loose beautiful feet through the gates, of grace.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                  840
          it is small, hot, fevered

          Be strong, and kind, in warmth, with
          this tree my life, i lay in this, hot blot
          of ink my head, that seems to cold,
          i moan, tremble, lost in rains, that pour
          in like a river from a brow, of satin, pain.

          I am carried over, i see other things, than it's dreams.
          Is it in me? ..It is in it....it is not what you think it is, is it?
          I will labor diligently, as always i have, in our pasts, lives.
          When i see you next, you will be confused, as i once was.
          it is was, riding loose beautiful feet through the gates, of grace.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                  841
          it is that i am

          Sky, so very shy
          shy turns to cry
          crimson tears,
          turn pink on me.

          I do not mind your crowd from a
          distance, I rush them in thought.

          You confuse shynesss, with confidence.
          When I float down the mountain the river
          as wide as one hair on the head I adore.

          I fall alone, in bones of white, the grey are
          my sisters, brothers they, are you as well.

          Their skulls are linked together in chains unbroken.


          I wink at you from space, looking at the ants...
          making mountains from a hill, up above.............

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                  842
          it is that i am for she

          Refuge plays upon the sky of blue
          basking in it's blissful company in
          during for the sake of she whom
          wished it there.
          Bringing cottons soft plumage will
          lighten a cheek colors half moons.
          Sparkling eyes reflect suns venier
          two's cast of shadows stand guard.
          Pillar of twins becon it flows honey
          regal mist float to her mouth home.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   843
          it is you talking about me

          it is percived perhaps it is
          that most can
          write poetry without
          is it or it is..if so then you
          speak not about me.
          ...) it(s..hard...I.know.) it(.is...is..) it(..?

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive              844
          it is your part, after all

          it is not like some lost water pump on a car,
          you cant find,
          though you would follow the steam, to the
          source, through the air and get burned.
          your part,
          it is differing than that, would you have us
          believe that the bench made of wood,
          does not in the slightest way effect
          your stage of the part that you feel,
          when you rest upon it? , would you
          give you a break from that..not..
          how can we think that far on the
          bench with no, pink oinks, to sing in it's play,
          it is, in your part, that is made of hearts,
          on the wood that you feel when it plays to your part
          , of the one who can float through your play
          on the stage, that he wrote in the dark,
          while you slept, on those sheets made of care..

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                  845
          it is yours truthfull

          Some embrace it with know,
          not knowing why, just to touch it.
          Some know what it is and blush terrible,
          it smiles,
          knowing you know, it knows your smile, inside
          you hide,
          you will be fired for this, this is of course,
          it is untruly!
          The wicked boss you turned up,
          some wasp in your in your hair you would be shed of,
          you need your job, it knows you knows this.
          Truth is your need, to feel alive within your blood,
          that seals a day inside a kiss,
          that you would try to leave upon it.
          It is grate full for just your smile,
          kind looks you wish upon it..its dark continent...of rain..

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                         846
          it is, a just small thing

          When i was blind,
          she told me how nice my eyes were.
          I have spent years trying to sea the color blue
          in word subscribed.
          When she siad she was pink, it is a rose i bring her.
          I could be mistaking, it is having a pink smell to it.
          It is a scent i died for, few cents that made, i have since.
          When i was old, it is a sad thing, to have your mind erased again.
          Please be my guest in it, it is just a small thing.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                847
          it is, 'Fürbitten'

          Tunnel, this darkness hides,
          pasts secrets, lost is child
          screaming, electric buzzing,
          walls along cuts, do breath.
          I tear the face, that was mine,
          gelatin grey, while child eats.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   848
          it is, only for you, to decide

          I tremble at your feet, with your toes..
          This foot of grace, to my right, in the sand..
          Little tributaries, attest to your loyalty, i would
          bath them in salted tears.
          Callus are they, whom ignore, the pleas that
          you, moan, in quite fixing a meal, i would feed
          you more of the same, that sustains you.
          I am the shoe, that comforts you, i am ignored
          only by your love, of others that you soul.
          I am the red that you leave, in my wake, to the sea,
          every day, to grow just, a little more, in my heart.
          that could please you.
          I would release you, from this burden, rest your
          foot upon me.......yet you must decide, i cannot, do it for you.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                              849
          it is, terrible

          The river is mighty, swollen, it is
          brushing the banks, overflowing.

          Still thousands of she males are
          swept up, painlessly, effortlessly, is
          to deposit in the gates of heaven.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive    850
          it is..a....Casual Observer

          Watching women do everything
          while men play god.
          Patching quilts of time to harvest
          lost joys.
          Passing memories hands of love
          washing minds
          pains suffering bosoms must hold
          creating more as men
          always have.
          Watching it happen worlds unwind
          tangled more
          it's knowing it is a shadow
          powerless for whom the snare catches.
          Landscapes running home to women
          pictures
          leaving books words
          unbound
          hidden found hidden sound she hears.
          Rehearsal's dresses staged unzipped
          shows flow and ebb
          lighting grows
          moving ever wider catching men love
          lowering curtains
          Women Women Women I love them.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   851
          It Is'nt

          Clever pot at rainbows end eye will ever find
          bound colors bending beaten bows of gold
          fancy high britchs sigh that happy flight in air
          streaming hair fingers bare their clutching wind
          sitting fast mindful soul green between to know
          dressing windows peering ledges groan a crack
          glass so payned moist with breath waiting known
          stairs foever white top cloud cotton tiped is eared
          nearing pharo cubed in cheese holy be thy feared
          dreaming sand toes are bared cleaning all the nails
          eating chips hunger all falling from some lips to mean
          lumpy blankets formed from air that stailed in stall
          stove infuse tha flame bread breath in normal form
          night and day I slide away to land I dream alone you laugh.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                         852
          it isn't the same comma

          lol...lol....and you know) it(s
          true all they said about you.
          Every one stalks the comma.
          Besides every one knows
          milk shakes come in only one
          flavor) it(s...you..the others
          well...are simple poor comma
          imitations of you forget the
          comma's they take to long.
          So when you are out walking
          alone remember something is
          behind you..looking at your
          commas...let's go fishing..) it(s
          pure imagination and raining..
          You know you just know...quit that..

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   853
          It Just Kills Me*

          Knowing you have to peek
          oil the hinge and sneak.
          Creep down the hallway
          staying out of the light
          going to the bathroom
          I'm weak.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   854
          It really is o.k. i like being abused~~~snivel~~

          I don't mind if you think what
          you said is true
          I cannot be any less bleu on you.
          I cannot do away with you
          though deserving you might be.
          I only know when I paint the cow
          black and white I mean cow not
          wife despite tasters choice in
          quality of milk as that to is a matter
          of preference.
          It is hard to fool a farmer it is plain I'm
          not a farmer as I was tricked.
          I painted my barn read right along
          with the bare sign I found around back.
          Yes the barn was one I red of and the
          bare sign was bear no colors intended.
          I am simple I have pointed it out much
          to slow it is that I am to slow for better
          perceptions than mine eyes be dim.
          Please leave a quarter at the door I
          need to call my mum alumpster.
          I~~snivel~~snivel~~still blubber love you....) it(s
          you) it(s always been you ~~snivel~~~
          /-: ', ; I know those go some where.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                 855
          It really is o.k. i like being abused~~~snivel~~do you to

          Every one knew
          especially you
          notes
          i kept hidden
          as chestnuts swayed
          funny squirrels.

          lazy laugh trees
          bend
          wind is
          fake blond hair
          she clawed me nails.

          Clansman i am
          glansman ought
          to huts
          falling down
          thatch patched roof
          are free meals.

          I take what i want
          oink
          is it squeals
          pink pig
          good meal
          breakfast food
          is in champions graze.

          Doe eyes
          backing
          front load
          sunrise in night flows
          your wine is tried
          dine out.

          We
          it is you
          nobody else
          holds hand in blame
          none near your throat.
          did not match any documents
          I found in village fired nearby.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                       856
          it some times doesn't care

          Where you will get all the wood,
          you need to feed one, winking
          letcheds oven.Soot filled st' airs.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   857
          it takes an army, to crush it

          rolling around on the ground victimless
          i will arrest you you are
          to be
          saved from yourself
          i will keep you safe in a cell
          on an island
          safe from every thing
          blaming the plane with no pilot
          does no good
          once a few years ago
          you could have made a difference
          now your streets all have the same name
          like the air force
          i only have enough room
          for the brightest of the bright to
          acknowledge this technology advancement
          that
          allows one to do what it took
          one thousand to do before
          beside their are no three robotic laws
          should have thought
          about that
          before you gave your rights away...
          welcome to your cell that noone ever noticed before..

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                   858
          it was your doctor who

          The report was even louder, this time
          I watched, Dr.who, slow it down
          the bullet just spun through the air, de-
          verb-ed tied to a string, dancing through
          me in and out, you laughed at my faces
          inability to comprehend my understanding
          maybe one, two holes at the most but over twenty?
          Heavily fruitful Jayne steeped in his personal assistant
          did realize such fancies as delightful as you make
          them sound need to be conserved for a much
          wider guidance of divisiveness.
          Happy wild Jayne plugs all the holes with pork?
          What was I to gain by watching you give
          me desert on a string, while I watched from the other room
          hungry............

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                        859
          it would rather

          Clean the house of plays,
          of clingy vines,
          all scents amaze it's nose.
          It searches high, so very
          low inside each seat,
          for peanuts missed,
          by it, her every other.
          Lace floats, to ear so spatial,
          sounds of off beat wave,
          leaves that blow, across
          each mothers other, with a sister
          even daughters, wipe it's teary face.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   860
          it(is...a...Relaxation technique.(.>|<.)

          ..)     it(s..A Merrier mode to the few of many
          ..)     it(s...going to,
          Be happy, sad is for the beagle puppy
          cute on the floor licking tails of friends.
          See the smile on your face don't be a
          prudish nun hater because habits good.

          Write it out loud sing praise to your mate
          mates wont mate if mad or unhappy face.
          Beerbellys can dance to ask polish friend
          Sausages hang out at all the bear parties.

          Rededicate whats left of your life to the brave
          without freedom to pursue happy void all days.
          Lesbians are wonderful appreciate gay men
          knowing more women for them to appreciate.

          Enjoy ice on the rocks of love being half drunk
          never knowing when rocks slide to your knees.
          Face the music even when the fat cheeks slice
          dicing her Italian will make your bed a large pizza.
          ..)     it(s..never to late for a date with me and your)            it(

          .....)         it(..is a production of mymamma
                   )      it(s..directed..by..Ellawaswise
          ...)         it(s..yo..yomamma..and..)          it(s..happy..Days..feltup
                             ... leaving my joys with you tonight....

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                       861
          it(is~a~storm drain that lives on your street~~

          It is where the life is sucked from you
          it is not a bordello dirty mind whom
          sleeps in the mud from which
          you came.
          I speak of the babies ripped from the womb
          shipped to the pet food companies
          ground up and bought as food
          for your pets.
          Is it a wonder why your dog is always humping
          your lost mind and the cat
          shreds your bum.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive             862
          It(s Even harder Being 2 smart

          When shopping for bagels remembering
          the one I ate helped dad to pick through
          some others.
          Remember open mouths frequently lose
          the cheese it's hold on mold.
          The paths that are most commonly tread
          usually lead from dens to wolves.
          Laughter's medicine left me with way more
          than broken ribs.
          The wench in England left her knickers half
          way to home plate forgetting her leg.
          Finally if you look around you will notice that
          the bigger the head the smaller the eyes and
          even smaller nostrils.
          I have a headcase now..

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive             863
          it(s Run Out Of Words)                  it(s lovingly

          Dear Paper Trail,

          ) it(..is not easy...your cave well counseled...
          brings..) it(s..own flavor..wine..grapes..well.
          Cups..always full..flowing tips..crafted..fine..
          artisan..jealous eye needs hand to see..be
          ..lost thighs..) it(..is..crowned in perfections..
          dew flying..in lost direction...hand does flow.
          ..) it(s..you the cause..) it(..lost..trees last..
          piece of..hand hewn lumber..in yards...vast
          gardens..sweet rose..) it(..is a petal of pillows
          scent..) it(s..ocean flows relenting..streams of
          ) it(..to mingle) it(s..glow..to sea...) it(s..hand to
          cup and hold..) it(s..growth raising flags lost...
          in your rising gale..of rain..) it(s..wet..heartbeat
          to feel...) it(s..good..) it(sblood..asails..to flail.
          battens door..Your hatch opens yard..) it(s..
          nature...) it(s..hot..cold..cruel..) it(s..never.denied
          ) it(s..here..) its(..there in you.
          captivating..) it(s......loveingly...bound..ship...
          ) it(s..your safe harbor...) it(s..a hurricane
          ) it(s...passions..fasion..) it(s..you....and..) it(

          .......) it(is..always a major production
          .......) it(s..produced with magoo effort
          .......) it(s..mammawaswise as are you
          ...) it(is...just) it(..) it(s just the way)            it(..is

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                             864
          it..is..so..Quite

          I can hear the beating heart
          of the dove my windows still.
          Your whispers barely do I hear
          move the leafs upon the tree.
          Sand to eye to small most see
          avalanche hits ant his feet I hear.
          Breath when last it was you breathed
          hand cups my head and burns my soul.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   865
          It’s Just Easier to stay Numb

          Flakes of bread my head used scrambled eggs
          consumed by all fell out of bird
          quite plain.

          Tired of being ask by those so smart a road
          is crossed bye raven sitting ever
          in the dark.

          Sitting vacant stared upon a line so high I
          would not dare my foot to touch
          the ground.

          What use these wings from they will not let
          me fly away in sky their mind
          no room.

          Presumption consumption vacant stare the rule
          passed want them not to kill my soul
          no room a heart sees
          not a care.

          Others not of you play rules misguided cause those
          mouths stay shut so play me
          as the fool.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                866
          its Denied

          Heavy heart in shreads no bed my head to lie comforting are the thoughts
          roaming in my head this day
          when i cold berift of food I seek this sunny suday cafe
          i would plead to thee bountyfull your cup is full your plate in need of clean by i no dog
          but wolf of appitite the void can never fill at night we pray

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                                       867
          it's is the size of a blue whales

          ..(|) it(s..heart...) it(s..brain..(|) it(s..eyes...) it(s..ears

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                              868
          it's to simple

          So i follow you around, with my bucket, and
          just, feed her roses being, simple and poor.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive          869
          It's yes to art

          It for years, it's
          has tried to be effluent
          in the art, of the dump.
          Standing up, on its side,
          even upside down, when it rains.
          It is about affiance though, much it is,
          that brings you to the, it's big Simona.
          Logs of forever, are for plumbers, yes
          of course and the other, butt any way,
          you know that from expedience, to swells.
          It flows outwards, instead of down words,
          yes many are the arts in this there are.
          Remember this if nothing else,
          babies go first,
          while boys fly through the air, girls well,
          they just kinda lay there,
          untill they grow, so able to
          wrestle the bottle away, under there own terms.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive             870
          I've slipped and broken something.

          My spindly legs gave out no one is here
          I cannot wait until halloween to be or not.
          The last vein was used this morning by
          a french person of dubious nationality.
          Breathing into this reed thingy is open to
          communication with you inside this box
          I am embarrassed that you may not find me
          this way when you arrive to look at something
          of interest not assigned to a bank yet..take one..
          Action is the last thing I need she came back
          to flip me over one last time to check my wallet.
          She smells of sheese and anchovies they still
          move on her breath it is sweet she bounces up.
          Shortness of breath expires carrying me to you.
          The ambulance man came they took her away
          rolling me back over on my face bottoms inward.
          Thats the story of life on an over dramatized island.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                   871
          jealous it looks

          It is one red sore eye, as
          a down stairs, it is vision
          blind as one wanderer of
          many weeds, choked thin
          with plaque a vine to lead
          it's washed basement, into
          the sun, it's colorless light
          lost, one window covered
          over a wasteland of hearts.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   872
          Jesus...like that..is so..fraudulently..

          Gosh: :
          passing your self off as a real young kid
          just to git a vote
          i thought us southern red necks were bad
          not being able to git it on your own....your honor:
          would you please inspect the defendants
          to commit sepuku
          with really dull ones on them selves
          and may all the pent up flatulence
          spray thier seconds amen...thank you...you may go..

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                 873
          Jibber Some Jabber

          Lightness of tone we sing with you of
          gossip
          I would bring inside this brain that rides
          a pin
          the jibe of jabber all of the
          lather bubbles
          that It floats.
          Laughter rolls out when looking back
          at all the things
          I missed
          .

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive        874
          Judge, I have many appologies...of but a few..#1

          Judge:
          I am sorry I angered you and your colleagues.
          It was not my intention to do so.
          I do not see reason as you do, when it is my home,
          my child, my life.
          Those positive things perhaps you saw in me,
          I have yet still to give in keep for trust.
          I know that where it is that you are, women run every thing,
          this not only is wise, in truth.
          I could not, when you offered to me, take care of all
          that we had..she had harmed me to much, I had
          to go away from my mind and all it's insane company.
          It is still difficult for me to even leave the home in which
          I stay, in truth, that which some judges take for
          granted, was stripped from me by she, dark road of unreasoned choices, made from
          backs of elves, drinking wine.
          Being a judge you have judgement, Knowing you, you have more so than the rest,
          when I perceived harm that night and left with the child, my judgement was called into
          question, by the women
          you trust around you.
          I grew up being beaton by an alcoholic, the damage lasts for all eternity, it is clear to
          me, Sir: that acutel suffering and pain, is a poor teacher when offered to judge, I do
          not intend this toward you.
          Those women around you never knew I have those same sciences to..

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                                  875
          Judge, I have many questions...of but a few..#1

          Most honored Sir: -in jurisprudence,

          Why would you,
          turn an alcoholic loose with the equity
          in a house that was paid for, that was in lis pending
          when I met her six years prior?
          You knew of this behavior, long before I met her, now
          what of the child?
          Your fellow Judge in kindness of heart ordered jeyna to see Dr. head woman, how
          could he have known, the alc up above would give her my child, and pay her..to have
          her pick up a gun and blow her own brains out two months latter...lucky child? ..after
          Jeyna...ran loose with this gun shooting at others..
          Jeyna is dead.that is bad.sound judgement to me in her..?
          I do not want to anger you, I now, do since fear you, it is only a question from myself
          to you, ..no reporter...Being most wise is there any thing left when we die..but the
          money..
          I will contact you like this, Sir.....
          The keys to the Bentley I leave with another in here...
          I did not mean to anger you to cause me to feel bad...Sir:
          I was not the enemy, I am much with humilty as are you..

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                                     876
          judged through two way silence

          How wise am i to speak
          no not very
          your words to keep
          so many
          never spoken with
          your thoughts of sleep are
          none
          to you
          by saying
          was it not enough to take
          the cuts
          the blows
          tempests borne is hurricanes
          water allowed by me
          to wash her shore
          your eye
          wisdom of silence most
          all directed did
          crash wave less on your
          shore a cloudless is was
          cold grey sky
          for
          evermore
          judgements lost in sea 'd of doubt
          in Solomon's
          whore.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   877
          Judges Cry To

          Wisdom is the law having two Mistresses
          Blindly seeking both.
          I cannot keep one in truth, hearing both lie.
          My eye on the morrow's words hands tied
          in rule, since time never changed.
          Before me, some times I punish the one as
          beside us one could have been
          yet knowing
          change blows the wind..fiercely.
          I walk the shore line of a morning, to know
          wisdom is as the sand, unwashed always clean.
          The rock I sit on holds my face, deluded was he
          who painted your father, on the ceiling, never looking
          up, all stand on thier backs..in awe.......crying.....the
          star stopped, buoyed in your bayou, teaching pie.
          Humble though he was his gravity motions me down
          inside you to lite a path you know is strait..
          As you flip me over, you put me to rest, in a steaming
          pot, judged...by crawdaddy's graduates in claw..........

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                       878
          Juggernaut

          Metal head with balls eyes
          imagination is disguised
          as degradation unwinds.
          Wind moans eternal soul a
          shadow boasts no surprise.
          Thought stopped movement
          to reveale a heart sleeping.
          Laying in waves forgetfulness.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   879
          Jumping *Out Of Airplanes Without* a Parachute

          Playing ground great joy I find
          in holding you.
          Are not the trees your arms to
          reach for me in glee.
          Under canopy of wings I fly
          whiping of a windful song
          to sing.
          Masters sky egale eye we meet
          to speak.
          Floating wing to arm no harm he
          drifts away.
          No saddle on his back we fly away.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive            880
          Jumping Back Into Your Loving Arms

          Letters of love cannot explain this day
          we have.
          Oceans are to shallow to drink from
          ) it(s depths.
          Vanquishing no matter how hard
          you try.
          Eternity and one day will forever
          jump back into your arms
          this night.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive     881
          jumping up and down i stamp my feet

          I hate you, i hate you, i hate you
          dropp dead
          I wish you were never born
          rolling back over i slip back
          into my warm little cocoon, i curl
          at your feet, breath fast in sleep.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   882
          Jungle Minha Mãe

          Selvagens mulher me ouvir falar de corações
          é a você que também sabem
          me levar com você agora
          salve-me da garras de
          menor seres
          comer-me para o seu prazer
          ter tudo que você pode armazenar e mais virão.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive            883
          Kailangan ko Am Ang iyong

          Ako dumaloy sa pamamagitan mo
          buhay na buhay
          matawa Loves kamay
          Ako ay sa iyo
          kayo sa akin
          pag-ibig sa akin minsan pa.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   884
          Karma

          Of bleeting cows do know....mooing goats hold sway...circle small will say...cloven foot
          weather not..spot inside there bleet have got........ be) it(spend in swing you sat upon
          a chair have care in world heavy cees then dees.doth have..tolling of forever bell
          sounds sweet level fields barley wheat song louds bring the rain again not same
          horizen ships far out with see to play a organ key in room to shay changing time O
          sand I flay a flounder flat of meak earth level head a bloom trips we take throughout
          universe to swoon..

          ) it(..: : >> :)

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                                  885
          Kept In The Cave 1

          Streaking cross the sky was the flame
          gutteral was the word
          i did grunt.
          Guntress his mate wild insane of
          passion well spent
          into the pit went
          the flame.

          No word

          Gatherer of meat and veggies tossed
          onto the ground before her.
          No intelligent sound could he whisper
          the whisper was for you.

          None other had the flame though sharing
          her wild mane into next dwelling
          went her.

          With the flame.

          Such knowledge passed down through
          grace of crown.
          Of such are Queens now made.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive     886
          Kept In The Cave 2

          Guntress mine queen full of joy new sheen
          she so wore...No bling
          diffrent age a dream.
          Still no word.
          Queen with a dream bigger than life it
          seemed was amazed...
          Lack of word...Fix that....full cammand
          get hence..was the word...
          filled with hope.
          King subject of Queen carreis back with him
          mighty sword..new realm.
          Sword of love and dove in peace it goes
          with you..
          Now word we know it is
          Love..

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive         887
          Kill me slower than that

          Drag me through the tempestuous coals
          the furry eye of truth none know or dare to speak.
          Take the shallaly, to my head your hand does grippe
          when your alone.
          Foul, foul, foul I cry, when you get mad, and push a one
          when it was you that had your fill O me.
          It is o.k. I will take the love on any day you care serve it..
          You pulls it up, down, up, down, always
          slower than the srokes before I die, to caugh it up on you.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                            888
          ladies but, but, but

          I smile.. :) ..
          but a few
          are still
          looking..
          *smile*
          wink on
          rye, wink
          wheat, a
          wink is so
          sweet.
          Will you
          wink on
          me? ..: :)
          Please
          for gives
          as i for
          gives you.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   889
          Lap Car

          Alone rides slap of rails
          to jerk, down and up, are
          lights move away, seen
          hand in hair, sweet lap.
          Peach clouds my head.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   890
          Last Bottle Of Wine On Earth

          Digging with my toe in the sand
          I uncovered a cork where she slept
          being some one familiar tears of ages
          I let her sleep with no underlying motive
          the cork was as big as my elephant
          it's depth unknown.
          Her lips have moved I must go.....) it(s..good
          ......) it(..never stops...) it(s...flowing

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive            891
          Last Death Forever Private

          Tow headed woman, child off woods
          two once green, brown, canceled why?

          Barron, indebted years scored, pity ed
          never would know potted, room bloom.
          Why did you choose insanity's, shield
          mixed custom boons?
          Your Mégas Aléxandros slain uselessly,
          is debated fathers far flung dream, stain.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive        892
          last dropp

          Mother Earth calls, to
          denuded, lust is void.
          no baby heard crying.
          Do you Spend it wise?

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   893
          last free atomics

          Washes all it's feet.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   894
          Last Rose

          Fought to your Boadicea
          int wined blood is druids.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   895
          Last Taste Of Innocence

          Until a while ago while walking along
          the shore head down searching
          for tears waves break.
          Not knowing the gazes of the moths
          drawn toward this flame
          until one spoke.
          Teasing me so I thought such fairness
          of breath to address me as such
          with her gaze.
          Innocents eyes she ask Sir, what is it that
          you gather along this path of tears
          we both tread along the shore.
          Looking up my attention now to her I
          replied whispering my wind
          to her ear.
          Leaves these shells of tears a women
          of sand left behind for angels
          in day to find.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive         896
          Laugh Through Bent Lips

          Zebras stripes he gave now black and white
          do you think when those stripes are backwards
          the klu klux can decend?
          Average Joe when plumbing the land mistook
          a giraffe neck for a snake to clean your pipes.
          No matter how limbough rushes about and
          stays in the same place does that make
          him a lop?
          I am for life does that mean I can't eat shrimp?
          I am for stem cell research I would love to
          remember when I forget.
          Upon the water I walk to be alone.
          A rock thrown away is one less you can hit me
          in the head with.
          If the jokes on me how do you get paid for it?
          To save money I stopped eating I could not
          afford any more toilet papper because they
          turned my water off.
          What of you? I wont tell.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive              897
          Laughing*Join Me

          Sanity is your community
          not mine
          my mind is bent twisted
          enough
          only through shock could
          unwise it so
          I laugh at me you laugh
          at me
          why I join you laid back
          and drink the wine
          you are would be
          I am but not
          Wrap your mind
          around this.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   898
          launderneth

          When you wash them is
          hope they smell as you.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   899
          Laying Down

          Laughter in the wind I hear it pleases me
          blowing across my mind there find
          the sea in it.
          All in all the prints you leave the feel
          on me the soul I see when I
          look up will set you free.
          Please pray tell my beach keep clear
          no matter here blowing sand will lash
          the kind that none all fear.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive       900
          Laying in your mind

          Moving furniture wondering what the
          two bright lights are...their is a
          big draft and noise not unlike a train..
          .their is an angel and a devil..always fighting
          i wonder why it always ends in a draw..
          ....) it(s..raining now

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive             901
          leave me some brains

          Up to your knees in them,
          could you save me some
          an once, or two perhaps.
          It is fun, they don't come out
          in the wash, yet you grow so
          fond of memories cherished
          to grasp.
          The walrus with a broken tusk
          for you.
          Stir the pot, a spice and you to
          taste and take for lunch to share
          with friends, who know you care.
          Och my brains an once or two,
          easy the pink will drip into the grey.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive    902
          Leaving, I Graze Down

          Upon banners named spear
          unfired spark unknown.
          Trumpets barrel comming out
          cold flamed soul is old.
          Flooding plains hosting shields
          fist high beaten thigh.
          Drapes the arm caused no harm
          eyes lite your charm.
          Garment skin akin to second hide
          from bodies wreath.
          Loosed string heart of harp parts
          journeys ferry rivers hold.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   903
          leftover kisses

          Between the line of mouth
          on her such lips desire
          with sweet designs
          a chance to feel soft loves tender kiss
          upon my palm
          heavens pass into her petaled rosy gate
          to sate the passioned fire inside my heart
          holds out my lips I place upon her face
          her cheek her nose her lips sweet god
          the taste those lips
          I loose control these lips my soul
          she has undone
          my left over kisses in a bag she does take home.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive              904
          Legal, a Seperation

          Vibrations, as of yet, I do not yet hear.
          Upon the neck cold, hard, are tracks.
          Thought does the Governess share?

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive       905
          legal~disclaimer

          What ever all that legal jargon we
          see at the bottom of the really
          good movies is ~i~ hereby invokes
          ) it(and if ~i~did it in a dream well
          your getting the bums rush, anyway.


          (thank you for the perspiration)

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   906
          Legs up to Fly

          Underneath the pale sheet
          Moyna is paler
          it is cool she is not
          burning dried salt white the
          powder her hair
          gives this once new meaning.
          Hurriedly with caution sheet
          is turned back, whispers
          moaning
          my leg moves undirected phantoms
          have hold.
          Live births grey eating flesh debited
          massed rolling ball writhing panting
          dripping feasts unheard
          maggot flies babies
          dance on Moyna's leg
          removing her last work of art
          unrolled is this blue purple once blank canvas.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive             907
          let me help you

          Help me, vi aiuti, help me..... è per sempre
          noi, noi.... parole passioni della vita per vivere la vita.
          Fammi aspettare niente di più, che già ho,
          si uccidermi dentro il mio guscio, pop con i tuoi
          denti, mi libero di morire, il mio amore.....

          Help me, help you, help me.....It is forever
          we, us....words passions life of life to live.
          Make me wait no more, than already I have,
          you kill me inside my shell, pop it with your
          teeth, set me free to die, my love.....

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                         908
          Li Po, Tu Fu Speaking At The Edge

          Greetings friend, stilled thought unlike wine patiently
          sits at your feet, how so?
          Unlike thoughts sitting words that wait time flies as a
          sparrow who is seeking a door in crumbs.
          I to am bothered as the ox by pesty wingless gnats.
          Is it you to dream as I?
          A dream of us standing at the edge of time unable to
          move forward or back chasing words of folly that leaped
          from our lips as youths?
          Yes, It Is poetry cannot let us reason in rest until she can
          hide the children of rice in words of a liquid robe.
          Is It Poetry sleeps the sleep of friends caught
          in time without sand.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                          909
          Lid To My Box *

          Round beveled square to a frame
          bearing hues fading of dreams
          maker in such crafted long ago
          for whom but a guess many
          names but few for the
          wearer of the seal meant for me
          not for you.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   910
          life is yes

          All that I am,
          is but a few moats a dot
          before your face,
          to brush away, yes hair curls.
          Upon the ground,
          you stand to walk again,
          your life is yes.
          There is much in yes, to know.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   911
          Life*Write*Now

          Upside down inside out stretched from
          every angle much to tangled.
          Lawyers nearly every day more hay
          that grows in air.
          Foolish waste a wanton loss of life
          every thing on this is red.
          My eyes no sleep back wept for he
          wondering why you he here so much
          of the time.
          Patiently waiting for this life O mine.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive     912
          Like ah Child

          As would a child i must pull, turn, push, pick
          , poke, pry, wiggle, run, stop, go, hold, betold
          , scold, bescolded, bleed on your carpet
          , rub it in pull the carpet over) it(speed
          , I will not quit on it unless im dead in
          jail or hospital same as dead or
          in jail

          loving you still)      it(s good for ya..

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive              913
          like..'you'

          To know, how do i tell?
          Different day, so are you!
          Crabs hard shell, to hide
          when soft is in style, eat.
          Fried good, raw is butter
          Blind me, sunglasses, tint.
          Bottled I am not, gosh gee.
          Wolves do, travel in packs,
          upon a meeting, posture not.
          Battles are dreary, narrowed
          some days, better than others.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   914
          lip food in you

          Lips touching clouds with tips.
          Inside the mouth lips to mine.
          Parting the air with my finger.
          Search tast of breath again.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   915
          lips

          Her lips move, yet i have trouble still.
          She puts them up to my ear, my ear
          sighs, to see more,
          of the word, that she hears, me breath.
          Even in sleep, her lips try to break, spells.
          They are so unbelievable, they Quiver me,
          shiver me, I reach out with a feather, to see
          if they are really there.I put one small little
          pearl there, to see if she will wake, she,
          sighs and rolls over my will, to stay strong
          in the end, she says, that I am not that kind of guy.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                   916
          Lips Sweet Bilang Honey

          Alak mula sa iyong mga labi
          ulo struck
          mangmang
          matamis na babae
          reyna ng gabi langit.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   917
          Lips That Stretch

          Flippant bird by rote a voice in tree
          is slapping beak off rubber tree.
          Laughing lippy lip low pay dismissed
          as rubber tires conveys dismay of well
          worn tread.
          Inside the universal mind when sound
          it's lifting wagging tounges aflame with
          panting glee.
          Pretty feather winged of color tripping
          over words that lay unseen.
          Prevention worth the ill when tree is cured.
          Acting part the path when flown leaves tea.
          Noting lips when parted wide as sea the
          sky is covered in blue ink.
          Gather all the pencils leave some lead for
          each eraser gets the point.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive          918
          Liquorish

          I am
          black
          she is white
          her parents
          black
          my parents
          white
          baby named Cinnamon
          is confused.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   919
          Listen Pet Dog

          Listen pet dog you got those bleeting fleas
          in my bleeting pants on my bleets
          if you come in this house with more bleets
          we will see what the thia's will do for ya.
          Answere me this were square
          dad will throw you a bone
          what do you call one sheep? .......

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive         920
          little split for butterfly

          Find breath so soft
          blow wing to splint
          veins cry airs tearspowder laid to wait.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive      921
          Living in a speck

          Of nowhere, red cliffs, for miles,
          stolen land, you sleep
          the dreams of tears.
          Your lips, are not of mine, they cry
          in my sleep.
          Keep your weapons, they weep.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   922
          Living Water *

          Proud nemph kneels down
          aside this strean thats me.
          Pretty face streaked with dust
          water like a trust to her.
          Pale rags removed are spread
          across large green rock to air.
          Primrose body living water flows
          into her hair flowing stream slowly
          moves twords the sea.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   923
          Lobstrosity

          She was the sophisticated one meandering
          around with nothing on no cares in the world
          until I came down.
          The chase for tail was endless miles and miles
          it seemed hours spent sucking wind a glimpse
          was all I saw.
          she looked good dressed red hard as a rock
          and a body to die for her tail was sharp as the
          knife quick as a switch babe.
          She saw me coming it is poetry after all she had
          to put on a act and address her surrounding in
          time for the show.
          She tried and of course failed no one can resist
          my touch the way I push at all the hard spots and
          drain the soft ones anyway where was I...............
          Karen how much lobster do you want tonight....

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                   924
          locked in your room

          You knew about the damage, the doctor
          told you, I was not comming back.
          Yet, you had to make sure, nothing on me
          You touched, went to another.
          You would after retraining me, come back
          to plug in the cord of my mind.
          You would turn on the wide screen T.V. to
          sit back and after the last act to flip on the
          switch and revist the scene one more time.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive            925
          lolz

          None dad,
          Socrates,
          would tease me for this being lazy,
          i would say, not to think.
          Sir, but think of all the) (o) (ink and quills we save.
          Stupid boyyo,
          who is paying for them?
          You?
          Tell me,
          boyyo!
          between just you and I, what is..lolz?
          Sir, it is only Another stupid word like, whatever?

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                     926
          look at her feet first

          It always looks down, at
          fairest crown, is tan dots
          of her calf, always helps
          She must, know it is sweet
          as morning sun, deep vast
          soft brown eyes, it washes
          clean it's night just repast.
          It softens the ankle, in roses
          dawn, toes follow songs, it's
          breath to reach the tendons
          sore is meek, waves in care.
          It rushes, soft milk thigh, is to
          silk boundaries, on garters.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   927
          look at Them

          In a hurry to no where finding
          a mission of guilt.
          Eaten from the inside out for
          past sins.
          Hardly able to contain her self
          she sells her self off to the local
          college autopsied in heaven.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   928
          look into the sun

          It makes you not blind
          it helps you see all the
          things you need to see.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   929
          Looking

          I look at You now
          I look in the mirror
          you are so lucky

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   930
          lost in paint it dripps for you

          It is so blind, it saw eyes, mouths, bodies, feet
          imploring it's paint, it's beggars land, stroked
          by hand.
          It's can, faceted as one gem, dripps only you.

          The brush peels back, stroke by stroke, layer
          by layer, new always differed you.
          Each canvas, some happy, some mad, still it's
          always you, is to Regina's sun.

          The brush of lips, still trembles it, invitingly...why?
          Lips brush the stroke, you make the paint, wants why?
          The canvas is always full of differnt you, asks it,
          is it not?
          Respectable mirror to try on in you..why not?
          It laughs at it's self, seeing a growth on it, so boss.

          The rose dripps, it is painted to it's natural blush,
          as it's ment to be.
          It is a stuggle between the rose and it's blush, it's
          a grippe so tight, the colors run at times, on it..you
          still laughs mused.
          It just cannot, as much as passion flames it's eye,
          be reduced to frame, you in the boring same tired,
          eyes of it is.
          When every woman is her, she a Queen.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                     931
          lost monsoon's song

          Lungs breath lives disrupted
          washing waves
          skin of land in your hand is a
          windy lasting trust.
          Thrusting Thunders Thirsting
          tears wiping dust misfortune
          helping growing
          calm
          again understanding your need.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   932
          Lost Moon

          I must leave this copulating dream
          of inequity with my bottle of wine
          winding down through the trees
          stumbling where is my friend
          the moon.
          To know his comfort the hedges
          crackle and tear. Upon me they
          pounce tearing my Cheongsam
          to shreds as they repeatedly
          thrust into my back fading
          thinking of the wine is
          spilling ground drinking.........

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   933
          lost this color

          In the beckoning it was she,
          happy at sea,
          riding waves of soft shaded pink.
          A sharp sting of red, witness,
          made me breath.
          Left a print now all see.
          She is, a rain bow twisted in saffrons ink
          trailing shades a,
          All colors vary,
          as would the ink that made her..

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive        934
          Love

          Every morning I wake up
          and want more..

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   935
          love cut

          I bleed
          I die
          I live for you
          In Love.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   936
          love lies

          Floating with her all my life I dreamed.
          Laughing drinking a large cup of wine.
          Outside never getting in this our garden.
          Average are these days forever new.
          Tenderly kissing all of her sweet toes.
          Inside my mind playing with free days.
          No body changing beautiful singing of
          Gently while love lies bleeding in the water.


          c.e.mcl.~~22~12~08

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive           937
          Love Never Quits

          Pain of chest is heart on fire never
          knowing why my breath you drew
          when it stops will you do it again.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   938
          Love That Lop In Love

          Freedom from expression numb top halve
          of mind that rarely works.
          Frag-rent thoughts are sleeping hear them
          snore in bubbles flopping
          as you sleep.
          Freeze write there while in this snare a noose
          of verse you peep the dare
          I found.
          Fair the wind that fills your cheeks the verbs
          such tonnage testing all
          our years.
          Fried tears the fair we wandered hand in hand
          kosher salt no heart attack while
          standing back attack this
          heart of mine..

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive            939
          love.me..in..your...crust

          Lazy pillows searching for my head
          your hands would hold instead
          my soul be bold.
          Folding comfort rising waves of
          pain the pleasure pauses legs
          when they grow cramped.
          Blowing rain the windows open sheets
          with bodies rolling to unfold the
          scented breath of salt
          it says.
          Dripping water gathers power splashing
          cleaning showers none today
          it washes all away.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive    940
          Loves Breath

          It is only as fresh as
          the air you breath in
          me to sooth my soul.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   941
          Lovingly To You

          In my blindness i was blind eye O mine
          to pluck from thee to kind
          roam back to me.
          Silence golden not to some waves crash
          upon your shores.
          Light in your garden lends to I a fresh
          scent to me the breeze
          may blow..
          Such are the dulce blocks from Klods
          path on now he roams..

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive     942
          Lucky I Am Not A Fly

          I could lay eggs in your ears
          while asleep at
          the wheel.
          Buzz around in your nose till
          you sneeze blowing goo
          all over your spouse..
          Making out with the
           t eating the i.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   943
          lush is, her garden

          It is lush, tropical, fruitful, it is never to hot it
          never snows, it is always ripe, it is waiting, to
          relax in between the petals, a rose so pink
          weeps, the small streams trickle by on either
          side, it pushes a button and honey flows, on
          the other sides, the forest is thick, soft, hers.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                   944
          magicians

          Preform the most amazing tricks hang them
          inside out or upside down unlike that silly willy
          crusty the clown
          amazing feats do they Preform.

          Do they....cheat..dunno came to see the show
          here take my wife and saw her in half
          if he really did would you be at all surprised?
          Or would you want your money back?
          Every one comes to the Moulin Rouge
          for diffrent reasons.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive               945
          male nutcrackers

          Take thier vices with them..) it(s..all in
          ..............................the tone of the voice..

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                   946
          Man In Space

          When God made man he put him in his place.
          Man was not satisfied so he went into space.
          Man landed on the moon.
          Went over to Mars.
          Got out one day and started counting the stars.
          Man found one a little off track,
          he called out to God to come out and put it right back.
          God, came out and said.'I'>Am <Himself' will make a deal with you.
          I'll give you my job, This is what I will do,
          if, you can wear my >shoes'.
          God then stepped out and I stepped in.
          I did not know where to begin.
          God I can tell you is a mighty man.
          God shook the whole heavens, with a wave of his hand.
          Lightning flashed, then thunder rolled.
          I, simply just stood there scared cold.
          I said 'GOD, if you will just send me back home,
          I will leave your heavenly bodies alone.
          God said, I will tell you what I'll do,
          I'll send you back home, if you will wear your own shoes.
          When I got back I had no time to loose.
          I went out and bought a new pair of shoes.
          Then I got down and began to prey.
          I had to get ready for the judgement day.
          When that day comes and I walk through heavens front door,
          God will say, 'I've seen you before.'
          Yes now please tell me what I should do.
          God will say, just dont try and wear my shoes.
          No Sir, Your shoes I'll never try to wear,
          for I can tell you I would get no where.
          So dont try to wear the good lord's shoes.
          You have a soul your bound to loose.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                947
          manpage

          Simple cherry pie
          in making chests
          is sleeping tired
          love strokes - fire
          rocking in a chair.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   948
          Many I Am

          Responsibility lies with me wish it not
          upon my shoulders I carry a yoke
          can you take it for a while?
          Wear a smile walk that mile
          the shoes I wear to share
          draw stares will you
          wear them?
          The eyes that care for us all when they
          walk and crawl along your shore
          may i skirt the falls by all walls?
          Rescuing a pebble from the rock
          that the sages left for me
          i carry back up for you.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive     949
          Many Strings

          Ten fingers lost toes once answered math
          alI need to know dirrection flowed.
          Affirmed frail knowlledge imbued to ask
          complex question freed to ask of mind.
          Universal flights true and tried behind tight
          lips laws to hide the humbled souls.
          Gathering moths seeking light for warmth
          such say to play on streets of brick.
          Hand to mouth week to meak laboured
          child loving smile to you they grew.
          Timid Truth on plain of mask deep the
          grooves forever run so deep in you.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive           950
          Mark

          Now you are involved...you with threats
          of threats within threats
          you
          stealing me: what is mine
          by harming my child through the words with-
          in drunken whores
          her blue lying eyes
          innovative solutions you have none of except:
          Low blue balls that sway turning greener in-testis not...
          Heart blue pressure a share of once the ten thousand
          where when how you stare at the red dropp of
          blood I left on the cat of Maurice his Paradise ride
          never lost to me that night....
          Her acidic sweaty bleached blond wore out falling
          apart
          I drove the wheels off
          pink low ride cadillac, she thought she is no longer was
          your drunk pride..
          Riderless drunken hussy tussled with wrong pride
          she will now forever more be know as nothing
          but a mat of faceless foot trodden skid marked sky..
          Do you really want to get involved......nothing personal....

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                          951
          mask of my forever

          Varied hair colored eye
          painted face traced
          wooden line
          chiseled free
          eternity holds my
          hard past harder present
          hardest future given
          masks behind masks
          never ending devoid of
          mirrors to mask
          horrors filled with souls asleep.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   952
          May I

          Have another day to play I pray
          another day to stay the hand
          of time.
          Will we see the comming of a dawn
          twas never lost yet seem's
          so hard to find.
          Can we be, all that see the greed that
          causes such as you, are we,
          the color of the red
          in blood such
          meekness always was and is.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive    953
          mean while back at the ranch

          Some cows need identifying, mine doesn't.
          My brand of beef carries no stress at all
          they are carried flipped dipped while a
          determination is made of thier cantor.
          If they wobble to the left a bit more yeast.
          If the waddle to the right tasters choice.
          All of my cows produce the finest milk one
          gives butter strait from the utter one other utter
          makes just fine wines.
          Ranching agrees with me life like no other none
          would I have.
          We are quit simple and fine humble folk of the land.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                  954
          Meany while back at the ranch

          We gather the sheep for shearing,
          only those who hate the taste, of a fast
           woolly sheep are fired.
          Like every thing else on the ranch, they
          can be turned into some thing else, at the flip
          of a verb, or a noun,
          Injected premeditatedly my lisps, an inflection of you.
          They bleat yes, in the heat..four feet tied,
          Talking so gentlemanly like.
          Other wise yes, you would be some of that to,
          The sun hides the face deep within the it's sombrero.
          It has only water on the brain, being thirsty so what.
          Sitting in the shade, we the rest, some being allergic,
          to wool, wait ever patiently for the next truck to arrive
          These now once again, cool of skin will be taken to the
          river, that flows through the ranch,
          and given bread and wine to drink.
          This is it, your ranch, will you help me carry that wool over
          there? ...howdy and thank you ma am, din't catch the name.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                           955
          Megadeath

          Is flying
          fine
          waiting
          reclaiming
          arrows
          to find
          queenly
          upon her lonely
          throne
          hoping loves king
          is
          released to his
          crime of
          beauties sweet
          sought after
          mornings
          dew.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   956
          Melody stay Forever Please and Sing

          Such as you made up light of snow
          a singled flake crystal clear always
          near this note abayed sweet tear

          Trust with heart beating soon held
          so motes in tune ring true with you
          violins wood are pillows soft in truth

          Waving songs forever lips are poured
          in strings so tought caused chest arrows
          deep did quiver bowed your back in beauty

          Names unknown can but moan winds songs forever roam

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                 957
          Memphis In You

          Melli notes of beauty all do sing laughter
          of the tree made up in green.
          Essences children soft hello to give
          helping hand held out to love.
          Memories of rivers never drying all the stars
          that you would cry.
          Praying knees where none may see the
          coming of the dove with wing.
          Higher ground most will seek from tears
          banks the heavens Mead.
          Issued face the lining made of angels hair
          soft light reflects the judgement
          of us all.
          Silouetting breath abated calling out the
          heiresses stables that the
          few have rode.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive           958
          Men*Mice

          Fields of rice golden tops wheat
          their bread threading silos grow
          on your head.
          Poison must fast daily sow
          mechanic man oiled in
          grime not to know.
          Child from the womb have a care
          wise can the man fix her hair.
          Floor cold hard books do to stir
          ember lost word within you.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   959
          Menopause in Men

          Sweat on me would rather see than feeling
          of the change that comes
          to me.

          Women think the fear of age wrinkled face
          sagging grace reserved to
          them alone.

          Stones once of bronze hard in song is lost
          to me alone, silly corvette of red was
          never meant for me in life
          to see.

          Hormones swarmy norme course no more to
          feel the longing of the morn once reserved
          just thrice a week no more.

          Words of laughter cause no pain miss them all
          squat in grace old age caught up in
          grasp not rage.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive           960
          MERRY CHRISTMAS..HUNTERS..OF..POEMS

          this river ran fast and deep............................~
          sides were the sheep..me to........................~
          the ferry cam o'er once a day........................~
          so many folks a great bustle..............................~
          toiling day and night no sleep............................~
          the light we go to is the same...........................~
          bulb grows dim replace it again......................~
          mighty river knows no end................................~
          the trip for the ride by him................................~
          just by believing you will...................................~
          be receiving a trip on this.......................................~
          ferry for life and one day...............................~
          those who tell really goods jokes were probably
          the butt of many a treat yes I mean me....: >) ..: >) ...: >)
          MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL MY BUDDIES~~~~snivel~~~


          This is not protected by copy right read my legal disclaimer first be fore borrowing it if
          you do just put it back...: >) is(s.. Christmas

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                                    961
          Meshi

          She is lush, green, full
          ripe, in all whites, glory.

          My feet are coveted, in
          waters, long to is wait.

          Turns blush, to season
          sun play, in white short.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   962
          Meus Diligo,

          EGO have victum panton,
          tamen vos.
          EGO vado alius qua,
          mos vos exspecto,
          Illic must exsisto others, to iacio.
          In meus contego?

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   963
          Mighty Inch Worm

          Color hue all birds did sing of flavor
          spice and neat.
          Attention birds could never stay
          debt free.
          Thunder from the inch worms tail
          wont hide
          Special silk strong for you web
          of bed few knew.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive    964
          Milky Eye of Plato

          Color, no longer is fodders, a vision bleak the crow
          Commons foggy leather cap, my weather unseasonable refined in progression logistic's
          leaps past sightless, of eye reproached
          Freedoms missing wrists, cannot be unshackled, falsettos
          etching denouncements, is a block of souls ringed of crimes.
          Passion without cries in Christ, penurious of mind, drafts paper
          is Communion at law, like snow flakes drift to melt, formless.
          I speak not of Rome, grand nude, devoid in breath, full pompitous
          leaned mouths of marbles, chipped lip to cup last David dropp.
          Jettison hope, sitting mountain casting clouds of doubt, shedding
          warmth restricting flow bloods river slows hidding eye of milk
          to lose a branch, fig less hand in hemlock is just one last word.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                              965
          Mind Flow Soul

          Constanly at war soul and word
          from mind to heart in soul rests
          purest light of word in soul since
          God graced the word in mind to
          be.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   966
          Missing

          I used to look forward to saturday,
          where is she?
          I miss her calling me old, did she
          give up?
          I think she is tired of me being a question.
          She wants me to be, like her.
          Maybe..
          It is hard to talk when they think you are dead....
          Verb.verb, verb.....i miss your puffy noun...

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                 967
          Mitochondrial Permutations

          It is that part of us
          that we asbsorb
          all our every days
          and nights we live.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   968
          monsoon's tears

          Unsealed years last tears
          transparent
          utterly knowing
          nights longed fires lay.
          Quenched smoldered body
          dry ed hair flows
          blowing warm
          winds
          crying waiting dreaming on.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   969
          moon beat

          Breath moon whispered
          hearing unheard
          dicernment reveils
          steady move
          vibrant pulse beat of love.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   970
          moon berift

          Tear shadows covered in pink
          shades drawn
          calling
          lamplight of star with singularity.
          Blankets weep
          sleep
          walkways dreams
          covering a freezing comet's tail.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   971
          moon closed my eyes

          Sensation has fled my body
          the sky turns off.
          My eyes are blind.
          Can moon still love me being
          not it's light a star
          my heart.
          The hand of my last memory
          lifts me up moons voice sits
          in my ear triumphant.
          Talking my fear into the sun
          it's flame washing my feet.
          Moon still watchs my love
          now with breath.
          Face a clean cold mask.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   972
          moon daughters heart

          Flashes light perfume
          rounded face
          veiled clouds harried
          murmurs carried home.
          Kaleidoscopic eyes
          translucent
          eruption Venus
          Mons Huygens saw
          moon daughters heart
          given away.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   973
          moon dies

          Time stopped broken space to
          Reveal heaven unmasked
          transcending
          boundaries crossed
          heavens last gift a moon reborn.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   974
          moon friend dances

          Triumphant pulse aglow
          graceful orb pauses
          lofty cloud tops
          glow
          transends distant smile
          Round face changing
          sun rides spun
          life dances
          blue pregnant waters tear
          moon faces bold stare.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   975
          moon hides

          Pleasure uncommom to skys
          gaze breaks
          landscape miles hurry
          lash with eyes
          eclpises moon lite tides wane.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   976
          moon hiding

          Comet tail chained hiding
          pain
          stars of you weeping
          trailing.
          Space around envelopes
          thoughts
          sleeping veils twilight's eye.
          Covering silken landscapes
          powdered
          face blushing mirror is dream.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   977
          moon moans stars

          Stars orbit circle moons eye
          eruptions
          moans Venus
          luminous eruptions glowing
          Mons flows
          glimpsing purple
          sky
          chaste reflections shine
          rising haughty chest
          spraying brilliant stars in moon.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   978
          moon mother why

          I heard moon, heavenly sing...
          Enthrall paper translucent runs.
          is is cup passed on it's openly sea..
          lips open sing praise, trip it so..

          One sun, mixed mercury..quickly..
          Night dresses Venus, in it's smile..
          knowingly..it's is simply..languishes.
          Still chariots of Mars, others seek..
          Ernst is timid, Pluto to hide, one orbit


          Songs, hearts, memories lay as covers..
          Canaries, cages, colors airy is weepy so -
          on papers floor it carries it's nest, of song..
          Moon beams gather oceans reflection of..

          It is plain, visions full, it's records differ..
          So painful, is playfully also read is red.
          To bamboo to moon to green to brown..
          The wine is strong..so puppied in..so is..
          so cupped..is to why not laugh..is yours..
          red...white...so blue..others letters..on..on..on

          One dawn lays out in forever, knows hardly..
          of is it night, spun cotton day in feathers....
          Speaking it is, not knowing to? yet how is it..?

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive               979
          moon weeping

          Soft of hair her vales sweet valley floors
          deep streams I lay my head caressed
          bright stars to dream with her pale dress
          boldly swimming rivers deep calm sleep
          he's holding weeping stars upon the moon.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive        980
          moon wept for me

          Full mask hiked to show
          veils hidden
          heart probes love
          unleashing
          light fountains rain of tears.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   981
          moons crown

          Humility's dust is unveiled
          lost shame
          comforts
          blue orb
          drifting hem
          settles softly
          Oriana's crown moons dawn.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   982
          moons daughters

          Moon unlaced star light
          daughters island
          being the same unalike
          travels along filamentous
          dusty floor
          padding
          printing memories
          washing them all in the sun.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   983
          moons love

          Velvet hand grips half moons
          petals rise in rose
          bloom opens
          envelope of intoxication
          moons elixer heady flow
          heaving rolling mons is singing.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   984
          more can you fit on it's pin

          As you breath it,
          it rewinds your stars,
          again.
          The comets fly as tears you void,
          though you renew them,
          as time renews your start.
          You must indure, Your fate,
          as such,
          planets slam into you,
          to fill the void inside.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   985
          More Milk Less Talk

          Cows were being milked
          in the past-not by me, yet
          the same cows come in?

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   986
          more therapy

          it is what the world needs,
          how does it ask, the walls.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   987
          Mornings After

          Horizon bringing flowing lighting starfish clouds
          burgeoning sky basket mothers feed the young
          flipping powdered cakes stitching berrys blue
          lazy blue jay laying in the sand living out dream
          walking accross the water shrimp racing boats
          freedoms thought in mind a boat to drift always

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive               988
          most faces

          Are not the same:
          The more I look at yours
          the more I realize that
          mine is changing.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   989
          mothers closet

          Her room so lush,
          her manoeuvre is, in hips to sing.
          Inside the door hangs me,
          color, hues, silk, fades
          rightsized out I hang, to use.
          The one of so many,
          never used, she picks me, out.
          Always, to lavish gifts that, crown
          her achievements, that give.
          I hold her up so proudly, jutting jets.
          I hug her, lushly, I breath daily,
          memories river, of milk..to gaurd..

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive     990
          Mothers Memory

          Always on her mind like nice song wings
          always off the ground.
          Memory before there gone she wants to
          give so long.
          Energy was passed along the path of
          heard so overgrown a shadow
          in some line.
          Massive was this span of life need truck
          to carry on.
          Often life is seen as such thruogh glasses
          license to thin.
          Yes she is my mother dear and memorys
          there are hers to leave.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive        991
          Mouth Gives Thanx

          Blood soaked rice
          once white
          stained
          now dry
          fills
          mouth tight
          up
          ravaged
          sewn is
          edge a crippled
          red lip
          cracked pitted
          purrrfectly
          falls in mind
          to slice
          tomato braced rice
          bleeds black
          air
          weeds deep sleep.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   992
          Mr.Johnson

          I ask the questions if you please!
          It is but a few, that I may to have?
          Is it a good running two stroke, can
          it be bored out, how much bigger?
          Can it handle a hot heavy grippe?
          What's under the top? I sea a swell!
          Now that you are done, you may go.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   993
          mum me double suicide dads packing

          I was six and one half peep
          hole keys sometimes did
          that evening my eye balled
          credibility for one so young
          eye ball to the hole seeing
          strange clear plastic over
          mums head studly doright
          riding a mounty whips crack
          neck snapped I think it was ten
          more minutes before dad saw
          what I saw that his life as a
          politician was over unless unless
          he whupped my DNA on mum how
          she was bathed before that I do
          not know he suicides me with mum.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   994
          Mummy At My Side

          Dearest you would so think to speak
          with me here laying
          next to me.
          Easter rabbit lays souls eggs of
          sand on you
          wrapped up long so history gets
          a view of you.
          Apple thoughts come running
          way from view.
          Renaissance from my bed was
          made for
          souls to sleep a slumbering sleep
          of dreams.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   995
          mums new necklace

          Is this
          what awaits us all
          gone love once holy
          holed is this never used gown
          poverty young lovers sang long hours
          shortly now
          fresh honey buns used up desert less
          now
          you smell me comming even corners
          now have eyes
          sweet smelling necklace threaded large
          dull white orbs
          smell was told of mouth balls
          drools flaccid Hector droops
          artificial wooden breasts splintered
          across them small very small nearly is
          unseen
          it runs down excised long since
          the rudderless udder
          uttered ness
          of it all
          to
          stain your long dead memory of golf is
          tea
          you drank with me
          before lost cows dried up our home.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive    996
          My Advice

          Come home for tonight
          do your job.
          The next day we talk over
          how well you did your job.
          After your job evaluation
          we will see if you can still
          raise the flag.
          Once you raise it go to the
          window and wave it.
          Once you wave it come back
          to the back and we will do it
          all over again.
          We will talk about hiring you
          when you become
          transparent.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   997
          My American Niece The Talker

          She plays with her dolls hours on in
          singing them songs that
          never end.
          Wishing on them when missing
          their feet to go to a doctor to
          get a sweet treat.
          Ever moving she talks walks talks
          television on she turns it off
          yes she talks
          Even after tiredness over takes her
          eyes glazed over in rapture
          she talks.
          Time doesn't matter to the talker of dolls
          every one learned to walk and talk.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive        998
          My Birds Beak Fell Off

          Bird of all birds was bird don't laugh
          eh eh yes bird of tremendous beak
          could curl such words could he yes bird
          the word in bird yes word then fell into disrepair
          this beak on my bird the beak that could curl the
          word and twirl one day bird did withe excuse
          me that withe looked like poo oh well
          where was.. I..beak could twirl the
          word on his beak could bird with beak
          could twirl the word..noticed one day birds
          beak was all askew birds beak was then side ways
          watching bird with beak could curl then twirl
          the word fell off of beak was
          reattached surgically.




          (humor)

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                999
          my birth defect was a doctor

          A final push loud wack
          screaming at doctor to
          find me one spare hand.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1000
          my blackwidow

          I was nine and raised her from an egg sack all
          confined in a small glass jar.
          It pained me (aside from the daily tear of water)
          that they consumed one another as they did.
          Yet in my heart Darwin was right what Darwin
          didn't know and Barnum did was people would
          pay to see anything so for five dollars I would
          catch crickets let her bite them then let silky bite
          me they saw not the cricket part but my part cost them as I said five dollars many saw
          there way into my hand beat prostitution....: >)
          Only in America what poor kids will do for a buck.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                               1001
          My Bleets Hang Low

          Droopy are the lids that allow sight
          pull one up eye pops out of your
          face into your hand
          humble is the socket
          plucked from the eye
          missed the log.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1002
          my boat

          Rib are exposed to white.
          Wind breaths on shadow.
          Birth one seat is breached.
          Love of my hull, was patched.
          Her hand open, port to sail into.
          Waves lose rocks fury her eyes.

          Rudder speaks charmed
          life is bleeding me a sea.
          Bleached wood spills dream
          a splinter hides one rail.

          Passengers left many days ago.
          Scuttled inside scarves, last seal.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1003
          My But For Sale

          How much is it a conjunction worth.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1004
          my Confessions of

          They do not weigh me down, it is
          only the wickedness of them, sins.
          It really frightens me, knowing God
          knew, you would confess it to me.
          Yet, you said when you look in the
          mirror you are ready for the world
          here I come, watch out, death free.
          I travel the hot line, down the middle,
          the world is again, my pink oyster.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive     1005
          My Crime wuz you

          When you did it, did you measure with
          cups O heart, held by hands of pianist?
          Heart is judged, by two tugging starving
          spiders who pull it wide, come inside it.
          Little bloody feet prints guilt of crime is
          upward spiral back of mind, heart bleeds.
          I look up through milky eye, camera zoom
          behind lost, many are the shadows, yours.
          You step over to the microwave, slip inside
          it, warm it up, look around eat the evidence.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive           1006
          My Daughter April sixteen 2003

          Your birthday is a few days away
          the sixteenth.
          I have not forgotten
          you.
          Others would have me to it
          is only a game some have to play
          no one wins.
          It is not your fault.
          A great fight was fought for you just
          to live and you won.
          He who would have come before did not.
          You are young and small.
          Full of grace it is that you are.
          The water I took you to when you were two
          sand was the foot that held you up.
          Breath of your life is my light wear the light
          remember breath to leave what is not alone.

          Your dad,
          It is in you as well.
          tenth of April 2009

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive            1007
          My Definition Of Bleet

          )     It(.. Bleet can be used to replace any word....

          Example.#1..Heavy are my bleets
          upon your bleets...

          Example #2...Bleet your own mind
          how often does a bleet come
          around that bleets you in comfort...

          Example #3....I have only one bleet left put another penny with it we have two...Bleets

          Example #4....Healty bleets are good....for..: : : : >>>>))    it(

          Example #5...Not many bleets in your head if you dont
          get) it(by now your bleet is bleeted up.

          Example #6...Of all the bleets..I ever met why did
          I fall in love with you?

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                               1008
          My Head Is Your Head *

          Thoughts flowing ever growing
          leaching from my mind
          not just knowing simply going
          anywhere it can
          standing still being chilled
          when a word does come to find
          a special place that lays so near
          now found inside your head..

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1009
          my heart

          Walks on deaf feet, to
          hear the loud echo
          of vast hallways,
          that once was, just, Rome.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1010
          My Invisible Face

          Rivers spare it's shallow
          flowing lane
          pale hills skyward may tremble.
          Breath as soft lips float
          freely stay now
          harboring ever the budding blooms.
          Labor moving inviolably
          to have today
          you move my hand then
          touch my face.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1011
          My Key

          Has not been used
          do I try it out, on you.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1012
          My Life

          In the short book I have it is yours
          to the wise
          not I
          a weapon though moral hi can be
          taken from this
          the wiser
          would wait and dicern.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1013
          My Little Friend

          Ever knowing forever blowing winds
          of change doubt is growing sides
          are swiched.
          Victor values victims vary velvet
          vanquish
          virtue vent you spent.
          Enter light of moon pane this glass
          my eye transparent to.
          Raise my hope higher faith path I keep
          while we slept alone.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive    1014
          my mamma is fine

          Mamma's path sugar sand
          slippers glass wine
          poured forth a spring
          undug by hand.
          Animal strikes beauty ex pose
          to stand a second paused.
          Mirrored water masks
          her curvy waves
          she lays it on.
          Metal glint of fairest smoky
          eye she
          turns to walk away a sigh....
          After fine begins to fade winds
          of change come back to say
          mamma your wine it is so fine
          shed not the grape in vein.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1015
          my mind

          For decades eternity it seemed
          was locked inside minds
          others bad dream in life
          unable to scream hidden by them.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1016
          my name is

          Unusual, it has nine vowels
          and twelve consonants.
          I was forced to get a divorce
          against my will.
          I am to old to be a
          whore.
          What are man whores?
          I will go pluck my eyes out
          date women eighty and up
          who let me pre chew their
          food
          while I pretend at one time
          you
          really did care about what
          happens to me.
          I would love to have a name...
          Is it worth living for..is it.......

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1017
          my name is Ferinus

          My name is.........Ferinus...succulency, is the middle Roseus.
          Why would I care honestly what others eat.
          Whether it swims, flies, hops, crawls especially the kind
          that walks on two feet, through my field.
          You never complain, you never fake it, you do shake it
          and every day try to bake it, chicken it is not.
          There is some thing special in pink, wink, smile, lips begin
          the depths of the most complex of all webs, you tell.
          Only such as you, a woman, to fear, carrys these weapons
          at both ends of her field.
          My name is.........Ferinus...succulency, is the middle Roseus.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                            1018
          My Normal is your Xanax

          A buzzing bee doesn't have s*** on me
          I catch the black bumble bee by wing....

          You tremble at my thought of you with
          words in kindness truth prevails some
          hail upon my head some wish me dead...lol

          Mountains fear me if they trip me back
          I come with dynamite they show me dawn
          early lite beneath her cloud.....

          Patience for mounds of verbs I have none
          left for nouns.......

          Play the radio the songs go in my head a
          thousand times an hour all at the same
          time I write and cook and sew my name to yours.....

          Pleasant is the present scent you wear to lay
          me down to sweep your mind of thoughts not
          forget a dream of me tonight.......iip..) it(sweat..

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                  1019
          my pre owned mental illness

          The voices are ok...you get used to them
          they are very creative
          some times while walking in the air port
          I wonder around blurting out
          verb verb verb
          all the pretty ladies with guns ask me if I'm lost
          I explain if they could find me how can I be lost
          they then try to export me.
          Impulse beyond my control direct my fingers in
          trying to help
          your obsessiveness let loose it's grip from my
          tongue
          your complaints I hear yet
          they must be ignored as well
          you are just to controlled and displaced
          we can explore more of these conditions latter
          as an after thought being now delusional
          when I become president
          every women will get one free
          banana
          and every man
          will get two child support checks
          one for the ex and one for the next.
          ..) it(s..hard not being famous..) it(s..even.hotter
          next to you...entail you look at me with those two
          big air conditioners....iip....passed ellawaswise last night..

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                            1020
          my rose

          Withered on your vine
          unsealed, by choice.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1021
          my second small attempt at suicide

          They were fed genetically
          engineered beans each
          puff of wind yielding the
          equivalent twelve pounds
          of methane gas they were
          gorgeous women serving
          my life for.....being the spice of my life..
          I kept my mind in them well fed....

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive          1022
          My Secret~of

          Is it really safe with you?
          I know you know I know!
          You share very little of
          this I know as well.
          Some times I know
          you know yet others
          I just dont know.
          The secret is not dirty
          sick little mind you
          have and all ways will.
          I only hope my secret
          is safe with you
          BECAUSE if it is
          every secret that you
          have is safe with me.
          So now that you know
          that I know that you
          know give me a buzz.
          .O.K.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1023
          My Sister Ask Me (Humor)

          Who is 50 married eight times!
          I have been dating five months
          how long shold I wait befor
          we marry? (He Musta needed a cat-scan)
          SIS if you havent figured out
          how the roses lay in the bed
          may be then you should not start
          a garden.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive    1024
          My Soul Is as Dust

          Many cracks harbor water glimpses
          of my past long gone I cannot
          see my face
          Motes with wings gather vultures sing
          a song unspoken lost in age
          of dust it covers all
          the stone
          free the mirror lost in water stinging me
          a soul as dust wont fill
          my bowl
          walking waking undertaking journey lasting
          burning let me go to
          find my home
          eyes of fire never dry dust now fills my soul

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive           1025
          my staff

          In use, for support,
          iss used by many
          for there own, use.
          Will you bring the
          flagg, home to me?

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1026
          My True Love

          Was found reading a magazine
          earths mother
          is she ever
          Terra firms mounds and mounds
          thighs shaking covers hatch
          tons joys coconut almonds
          toes that are used to plug the noses of camels
          full sausage lips dripping yesterday
          taking up today leaving me a few hours
          short of tomorrow
          powdered face hidding creased rivers
          shore floating heads black and white
          moons of halves slay millions with
          winked breath
          always eye blinks blinks blinks massive neutron sighs.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                    1027
          My wench accross the sea..) ..a left over love letter..(

          My dear wench from the chalky cliffs,

          ......Missing you it is that I am..the memory of your
          ......vowels lay guttural and dim to my ears.....the
          ......hairs of your forest...blue away...in the storm of
          ......our years...more milk is not needed...the cows
          ......are forbidden..diseased...they bump into things..
          ......I think they are mad...I gave up on the radiator...
          ......as it was only your hand..that knew..in which......
          ......direction to squeeze the bulbs..besides the..
          ......amarillo's grow back in the spring..of my steps
          ......lead still to the hill of your pears..brown and...
          .......juicy still...kind of milky the flesh...it grows in
          .......your hand....still my eyes dim..tearily..as i think
          .......of you as you were then...much of your stuff..was
          .......carried off..by your friends..they fondle to much
          ........as it is...loveingly...) it(s..never to late.........
          .........to member who you eat with all the time........
          ........................
          .......................................freely isubmit.to..you.............
          ..............................................always..) it(s....mesrable..to
          ..............................................................................wish........

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                                        1028
          my wing is limpinbroke

          Tatters, scattered puffs is
          powdered magic gone.
          Full bodied I float, still to
          be carried ever higher, in
          a hand, Mothers tongue
          knew the lesson of old, an
          allowance, to speak anon.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1029
          my, her our rooms

          i look inside my eye, this picture takes, confused.
          a poster few, ripped like you, so tattered.
          the cocoon a bed, centered piece, warm diary.
          pinks, scatter underfoot, frilly, soul of many unions.
          my mirror is broken, i must leave, when i come back
          inside, is another different picture, still unbroken.
          the log, long narrow, you rest upon, knots, unbuckled.
          upon this skinny me, my arms hang over, to bleed on,
          the dripps on some plastic, of a many holed, soul to leak.
          my every thing, once a rose, to gush, pulls in between, my pink
          thorns, pulled between, catch me in sleep, many prices, pics.
          you look in again, now, more confused, than when you left.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                             1030
          My, 'world flows by'

          The air is pure and clean,
          my cabin, rests astride a
          creek of ice cold milk, moist
          the strawberries jump into
          my lowered budget, made
          of wood.Eternal her spring
          lays at the top, unbridgeable.
          When you come, please try
          and remember,) I(am lost.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1031
          My~Ddddirty~`.. Ssecret~

          I stutter..what would you see
          if you could read lips..when
          I stutter.....would your heart
          flutter still...it's cluttered......

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1032
          near death

          I wait my turn, wishing here it were different.
          It is not, your watch is my wait, to make one last claim
          in these pale ashes..
          While you sift through grits lost hominy, chuckling..
          The few teeth, barren of gold, smeltzed through a
          memory left ajar...I am cold in your drawers..wooden
          it is so many of..stepps, grass back bare..still I look.
          Your basket flows over neurotic habits, set to type to
          run, you glow happy that your words stir, showers of ash..
          That lay upon me..these strange smells..make me tremor..

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                        1033
          Never

          Not while I have this fine canoe!

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1034
          New Quite

          Mornings early light soft of eye
          the mist not dry upon
          your cheek.
          Invitation graciously accepted
          invite for early tea.
          Streamers foggy chilly seat at
          rest my head
          would be.
          Tender thoughtful is the word
          of all that I
          hold dear.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1035
          News* Of You

          Mail was lost on lark fall from sky....mattered notto mind ey...) it(s no geft that one
          has...lost is scry....flying high all around here the news about you was... so bleet...as
          the lips of your mouth...new style swipe....) it(steal your heart...beet is red....harsh as
          flame....seal ob the Queen much is sheen.... as the glow on her face....



          ) it(

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                                    1036
          next time you climb on

          Would you please check the
          saddle a cockle spur is there.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1037
          No eye

          O imgination sours dim to the mind
          of an i not of me get thee hence
          from me i wret wth no i
          thnk wth no i lve wth no i
          no mgnaton dm clod.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1038
          no grace

          none left in finger tip this night
          I humbly beg of thee
          forgive a way ward
          tougne thats yours to slice..
          I am not goth so dont get
          carried away.
          Times two amens.four hail marys

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1039
          no milk

          Find another use
          for this upper lip.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1040
          no more miracles

          Movies come in handy
          as does smoke
          without mirrors
          needless you will say
          drifting smoke scentless sensing
          scents is you calling
          swirling thining settling
          hair thin softly
          whispers ear gone by
          hearing admissions
          hold of thresh
          inters expanding
          exploding breath drained
          as plumbed a pipe
          would lay in the wake
          of a dying ember
          snubbed withdrawn
          satisfaction is knowing
          you were just as suprised
          as the rest
          sleeping never knowing how or
          when will I ever come back to you like that.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive          1041
          No Notice: : >>)

          Roaming the land as I do flying the sky with mind eye swimming the seas all I need to
          see hear i am come to me as you watch what i do brought to you with no help of a pen
          Jungle of dreams in the trees crazy thinking am i for i post may you save all that drag
          and bleet to me as you should to a queen misunderstood as i am want to go back to a
          scene some blue clouds clear day may the sun clear my face looking at you as i do
          blameless president above the law hollowed are his feet while he bleets where he can
          for some land for free souls forgive as they know as they see whats the use find it out
          when they sleep ever deep in the sun never see eaten up bye there greed romantic i
          am hear the bleet of my sand in your eyes fall asleep at my feet as you can turn on
          over come back latter for more..: : >) it(



          12-14-2008

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                                1042
          no one knows

          Masters of the universe are one shape
          no other face can tell
          untill you see it.
          Some faces stay the same, for eons
          others have that special gift, to change them.
          Is it in your face to be the sum of none?
          Gratuis Gratis let them stay as one.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive            1043
          no one,       but two... know

          It is fine really,
          ride the light of the sun.
          It only shines once a day,
          peaks of light from other eyes,
          look Ellesmere, unto themselves.
          Those in noise, are only the feats
          of the others,
          who came before us, see even
          they like bees, must rest for a spell.

          On your face, pin pricks, are little feet
          once again in dance, calling Queen..

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive       1044
          No 'one', See's you, know 'one' Care's...but.. 'me'..

          You are afraid, no one cares,
          no one knows.
          Except me, I know when you
          look, why would I tell.?
          In seeing, what?
          Tell me, please!
          What do they see?
          You see pictures when you
          close your eyes.
          I see you cry, after he pulled
          the words from your lip, you
          tried, you could not help it.
          You, why resist? the cover turns
          the page.You walk lazy inches,
          while his feet cover you.
          You told me, you know, I know..
          now stop knowing to him.....
          Their is nothing about a backward
          dog you need to look in the mirror to
          be, now you know, kick the dog to
          the curb with those boots, he knows.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                   1045
          No Stone Left Unturned

          Roaming fields your bays searching
          for that special find of food.
          Honey of your lips I seek more bread
          to fire an oven warm.
          Smooth such sheets from which you gaze
          hidden pond is emptied much
          to soon.
          Many fishes in my well it came to you
          a memory of the time you drank so
          heavily from this well of life
          sated now your belly full.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive    1046
          no Thought to Some

          Seed of speck in eye glossed the lid to hide
          bye inside of bye
          must try.
          Every window has a soul to see the pain they
          ride the rail found train
          to plea.
          Events unfold wrinkled lettered line to you from
          me a path to go inside
          of all.
          Defference the monkey tapped a key was truth
          inside a simple mind to find
          one love.
          Set upon moss covered stone riddled nature to
          become a need that
          feeds us all.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive              1047
          no you haven't

          tasted one wave
          outside two skys.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1048
          Noone Yet one Dared

          Words many flavors tasting buds bloomed
          flowers afters showers within a hand early
          mornings dew held dear creations very few.

          Liquids life funneled green so sheen hasty
          thrills chilled nights passioned windy rose
          ground of life roots veins skyward grows.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive         1049
          Not As Rough As

          One tooth just one metal tooth
          nipping at your neck being
          pulled down and checked
          for sharpness with a clarity
          that defies reason except
          your need to be bitten why
          must it hurt who said it has
          to hurt not me it does not have
          to hurt you do not need to validate
          your existence by the pain that
          you feel or the amount of blood
          you can leak on the rag that
          was your friend before that person
          to felt the need to be drained of all
          their vitality and hemoglobin the
          other red stuff not white platelets
          preferably purple how many must
          feel this urge that cannot be filled
          any other way yet their is a way do
          you want to find it it is on the way.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1050
          not if im innocent..

          There is a big deference,
          being in there,
          up to your elbows,
          not talking about it..
          still, you are a great surgeon..

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1051
          now that you are famous, what do i do with these pictures

          Your sister knows I have them, she wants them.
          I think it was she, who called the tabloids.
          Does she do it for the money?
          She has done much, much, worse things, why
          do they not want her celluloid stills, to graze.
          I have these pictures, I had forgotten you, could bend like that.
          Now that you are famous, reading this letter, Internet splashed
          are the pictures pealed off I must keep the negatives, though it is
          not for the money.
          Now that you are gone could you call your new friend for me..?
          This new camera, winks even better than the last one.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                 1052
          Now What...

          You like jail...? .Believe me
          they all will like you.
          Tender ma ca Roanne like you... :)
          Steal another car...sneak off
          with Clyde..When you get to
          the facility..you will be just
          another piece of split open
          choice grade not much..left....of..into..

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive       1053
          'nurse'

          I smell pink is it
          late, of the rose.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1054
          nurse call the doctor i smell smoke

          Hurry put the flap back on my head
          I forget
          now, more and more.
          I don't like talking about that, I thought
          you did, can we stop.
          I know you change my mind, I have
          trouble today, trying to remember who I am.
          The flashes are much worse, I had
          forgotten that, I was just four.
          When the doctor comes in, will you put
          my arm back in the drawer, it moves
          without me, yes, it is embarrassing and more.
          Sorry between all the medicine and shock therapy
          my saliva has grown much, much thicker.
          Nurse who are all those people? ...who is that in that box?
          I am not Jewish! who is that fire for?
          Nurse..hide me in the oven..with that nice Hebrew lady..
          We, for lunch, will share what is inside, the lid...
          nurse....undo the flap.....there should be enough left for two.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                             1055
          Nurse Please

          I mean no disrespect to you
          No more pills
          turn out the light
          I can cry myself to death inside
          depth of graves painless sleep.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1056
          Nurse*

          Turn up the voltage hand me the
          head gear forget the rubber
          mouth piece
          Sir, she is only a child I cried
          it is it as you said do what
          I say go away
          money it cost for this research
          of no value is this person
          we live in freedom
          other countries do this in secret
          do what I say or go away..

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1057
          nurse, I blush

          I know, I sleep a lot,
          I, blush, blush some
          more, may I ask, all
          of you, are familial
          now, what went on?

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1058
          nurse, it is only My hand

          Strapped it is, in a steal,
          forged wink, of a tan man.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1059
          nurse...stop.go.wait...my....

          how long
          have i been asleep
          this time
          not fully awake i
          can't see the end
          is it near
          my breath dallied
          purple violets so
          african
          nurse of blond properties
          is prepositioned flushed
          wishes of my
          final days
          haggle not this quipster
          wares illiquid tasks
          if you want my thumb print
          April showers to
          check
          blooming amaryllis is so pink
          to leave me flushed
          gasp is of naked laydie
          vein picture nurse washes off dying
          is to quiver.....I love it when you
          let me dress you up like
          I own the hopital with you...in it..........

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive          1060
          nurse.this.is..my.../skull of laughter\..come lay in it...bring my spoon

          Rod
          a single point of penetration
          this virgin skull
          now wrapped around it's pain
          mouth to blind wont speak
          is nurse who keeps
          this skull it's staples free
          glutinously rebandaged
          never sauteed is
          she
          reaching my flap
          rewinding into her hand
          seizing grey my mass
          eyes shine
          fevered lusting
          brains her personal circus
          greed such jello sounds
          sliding fro and to
          from the back
          blind feeling nothing
          hearing licks
          such glue
          I endure unnatural tremors
          of her......
          those sucking sounds I hear unfelt....

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                      1061
          O    Cloud

          Thundering black clouds
          renders
          grave sound
          resounding hevens mass.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1062
          O.K. keep your skirt on

          Do and never sound fine together
          in calm spring weather supine.
          Practiced psychoanalyst it is fine
          soft leather coach hold it's catch.
          Straight unencumbered mind the
          fall of sweet dignity when perched.
          Listen it is what you pay me for
          wait come back are these four's.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1063
          o.k.~snivel~you don't have to stop..just try to quit

          Loving me was the only thing
          you ever did right.
          Those swiveling lips of yours
          never cease to amaze me.
          Two directions at once side
          by side like they are one.
          Up and down in and out
          potty.
          To much sugar cane will make
          your gums bleed.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                  1064
          oafish

          Into the open waters,
          effortlessly flies the
          casting net, so puffed.

          Only walks the waters,
          lonely shores, to salacity.

          Waves reach rocks teeth'
          sweep them clean, of fish..

          Head down, gathers them
          craves won, a salty taste.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1065
          Ocean Forever Deep*

          Calm cool waves my soul to sea
          softy cling to me.
          Afterthoughts gradually drifiting
          down the bottoms well.
          Lauaghter floats to the top fairest
          &#931; &#949; &#953; &#961; &#942; &#957; sings.
          Magic hair flowing free lighting
          candles in the breeze.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive              1066
          Ocean Vast Vessel

          Child beings sentient sings
          the children are one
          in truth regard
          reconsider the pleas
          of there anguish

          World pain such as his
          would dispel teaching
          of peace
          not repel

          Worldly the pain
          so brought about
          existence of nature

          True way of respect
          beings even there
          thought

          The heart may then flourish
          in spreading such
          happiness is
          pureness of
          thought

          For Gold he
          seeks nought

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1067
          of course i eat raw oysters

          Could you
          please come
          out of your
          shell
          Sit over here
          can you move
          that
          no their
          now slide over
          here closer
          see it was over
          before you knew it
          it is in the way you slide.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1068
          of lice and men

          Wits less, is the man who forget his mouse,
          when he goes abroad.
          Sleeping in quarters above him.
          Gravity works the same,
          where ever you go.
          Loose are the wits of the omens up stairs,
          one light in the front is always red,
          in the dark..
          The lice leave the mice alone,
          while the men pay.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive         1069
          Of Russian Sailor

          Great grey gun
          a humming ship
          face journeys leg.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1070
          of wheels

          Branching forever
          infinite are days
          plus one extra
          turning wheel
          grinds me under watching eye
          in my face think me blind...
          laugh..laugh..laugh...no disrespect intended.
          ..wheels are real lives fate to balance
          this act with the other clown I was
          and still am..please...master wheel
          no more clowning..weary of rest it is that I am
          fix my wheel it lays broken out side your door..
          burning my spokes for fuel in the winter
          even you cool in heart can warm my supper
          grant arrogance in me to see
          then flee across your desert of grass to the sea.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive               1071
          Of You

          Heavens kiss is of you
          longing souls as one
          to sing the simple
          bars free musics
          sweet release.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1072
          of...pain...?

          bleeding purple black sky blue
          red and yellow runs fears river
          sitting up looking down no pain
          being the queens compainion.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1073
          Oh Italy

          Of my youth can the boot
          become even tighter..? .
          They spy: ..keeping me
          from you: :
          they plots: :
          knowing your love of me.
          They have wicked, needs.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1074
          Oh Reaper Of Souls A Name May I Call 1*

          Alexandros of Macedonia
          step forth.
          Ask! ! !
          Why did you attempt to conquer
          the world in your time?
          I could not conquer the love
          of my parents.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive     1075
          Oh Reaper Of Souls A Name May I Call 2*

          Call the soul of Aristotle forth.
          Ask! ! !
          Why did Aristotle allow Alexandros
          to roam so far?
          Aristotle reply, To conquer love.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive     1076
          ohhhhh ~~ Be Still

          The dress you have on red and white
          square checkered cloth of a picnic
          it reminds me that I am weak
          in the knees when on you I
          see) It(s the bussom
          of life that I
          drink of.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1077
          ohsosofffffftly~~for you

          May the journey of your past
          few days the tears of
          soft linen you breath in the
          book of life so clean
          you preen for others
          in time of need no others.

          Journeys begin not in sin but
          the kiss of life all hold dear.
          To the bosom of tears only
          half have the joy to know will l
          ever know light in this brief flick
          of the switch
          of he.

          Continua spiriting in control of the
          stars a moon the sun
          does glow just
          for you.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1078
          Old High German Angst

          I wasted a lot of waste on that one..yea..
          I recon I, know I did..
          Trying intelligence on..because it's used well....as?
          In reality there being more than a lot, just fake mascara,
          as swell..I see you laugh I do as well...wink..wink.
          Did you really think your v*g *Na..is all of that
          in a zip lock bag..like some left over tuna casserole..
          I smile *it's just another v*g*na..at best...
          I'm what...it is ok..I like, am I is, to a what is child, ..
          to think I would tell you what..
          It has nothing to do with truth, hidding what..dad..cia..
          lived to never tell about.and thats why..he lived...
          I would go through my garbage as you would say...smile..
          and look for your lip stick of shade..stay intelligent...
          and throw out them as well...really it's not worth
          the trouble though..lies are lies...
          hallucinations are some thing else..neurotic can
          grow to psychotic..
          i would just rather stay blue..you stay green...and smile..

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                          1079
          on, a 'half shell-

          I drift, open to the sky.
          Happy no flies will find me, attracted to the shell?
          I am hinged, but she forgot me again.
          It leaks, but from where in the fog.
          Slash, the net has seen me, tonight you will to.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                  1080
          once more forgive me

          Waves washed over me
          I do not know how I
          came to be on your lap
          loved by all
          sleeping air that walks
          laughing to your hair
          washing me in your sand.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1081
          once removed

          In the midst frayed tired
          trying to let go
          I can't
          moving faster swords
          uncommon ground
          swirling past
          us all keep
          down hold time
          I am now once removed.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1082
          once removed twice in sight

          Timeless tears
          cry to me in sleep
          I weep
          on fashions crib
          I lay in rags of care
          barring mothers
          soul the gate to latch
          is cold and hungry
          wretched child you found.
          Deny me once deny me twice
          my fate as found
          upon your chest in sleep
          is fashions gossip do you care?
          Once inside this mind she set her care
          to me in lullaby so fair
          raising breath caring so in sleep
          the lost again are found to
          beating chest clutched was so to
          of me.
          Hands of cotton Lilly fragrance eyes of
          emerald green she
          baths my soul in keep
          once removed
          she brought me back is twice within her sight.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive            1083
          one ants lost roon

          It's the nights heat,
          no wind, brushes my face,
          dark is this path, to feel with one toe,
          as it brushes back and forth.
          Pace is awkward, slow as the exoskeletons
          of many ants lost in, sheets of time, the
          many of the once, are freed to feed the wells
          uncertain past, as the few
          that are left, carry that which it is, sigh less, deaf
          always helpless, back into it, is to bath in an ocean of ink.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                           1084
          one call

          One   call,   and it is all undone.
          One   call,   the devil comes in.
          One   call,   one drink, the devil.
          One   call,   is stripped canvas.
          One   call,   a color waits to cry.
          One   call,   the sky begins a fall.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1085
          one cut

          It has noticed,
          two cuts leads from one,
          is three to follow it?
          So you drink of it, or not,
          the taste of copper
          as it's wire to follow it.
          the day has not come, > yet..
          You push the red button, and it happens
          not, with out it's.
          Technicality, it's knowledge is slow
          to flow through some wires, uncorrected.
          Electrics, fires to do is, wires followed,
          uncrossed, unseen to sparks in air.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive        1086
          one day two nations breath

          The rabbit
          lays colored egg
          chicken
          quickens life in rabbit.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1087
          one dropp of face

          It is only rain, falling up into it's face,
          it walks through it.Kicking one dropp.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive         1088
          one moment in time

          I do hope well, thank you ma am, but I am
          not hungry.
          I hear talk, well kinda,
          it is mostly all about your sister, and what you think I should
          do with her, yet please bear in mind
          I have spread coals once of her, over wide areas
          each spot rekindled, memories, carried in soot on my face
          in streaks powdered tears.
          I hear you speak through your sister, her look, when at me makes it clearer.
          All say it is not a substitution but as is school when the teacher
          was away, not what was said but a thought did remain.
          I canna marry you, sister, please no prospect towards have I ever intended,
          she has gone away, my heart with her to stay.
          So far no other love will obey this heart to stay in a hand tenderd love that is true.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                                    1089
          one of three times three squared by three I am just one

          Hunting shirts previously worn without my say
          blisters to the soul reaching out shrived arm
          finger broken in nose there to stay.
          Hefty are my parts that grow when I sleep
          small is the mind pulling covers to peak on
          thier find.
          Graticule proximate motion laminae strikes
          to the soul of the chase up your cave eating
          poo.
          Unloosed with a noodle filled with oodles
          that dribble without cake never to date with
          out hate.
          Unto me gracious being IRS tax return never sea
          without asking a pardon employed unengaged
          destination never reached you keeping paying.
          Perpetrators...twerp the birds..seeds early dawn.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                     1090
          One secret from death

          To whom it may concern,

          My dark room i can never escape even in death my secrets are not that bad some
          wrong some sad i understand to bad.upon my brow i wear a crown undesired by me at
          least i would think.locked in a room with only darkness no light to see not even to pe
          use my shoe.Parents off in city for fun they are young two of us locked in the room of
          shame we blame us not them they are mommy and daddy no wrong can they do
          glaring morning come mom would open the door rude from sleep and scream at us for
          peeing in those shoes even in death i am afraid i will be woken up from my sleep.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                               1091
          one summer moon

          Hauntingly familiar were misy
          nights cloak of you.
          Beads of moister clinging,
          from my view.
          Voice in echo, amongst the cypress
          of our youth.
          Erased, with the morning sun.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1092
          one wink

          Walls run into me, my blindness
          becomes transparent, I'm crazy.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1093
          one word in sand thinking I speak of you

          It is never lost
          touching to
          reach one
          a word to leave
          in each
          you run blushing
          hidding.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive      1094
          One, brick shy

          I trip over pebbles, dusk is ash es,
          Your wall is my watch, soft purples.
          My eye is not blue, pink is not grey.
          The wall to worn, block is steppes,
          bare back, horses waite, outside inns.
          Windy capes, sleep on rock, pieces
          of dusk, sleep in dawn, feathers rise.
          Rain weeps, sun wins to sleep, star
          a beckon, your wrist, grippes the talon.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive      1095
          one, rose to many

          To dress the color still
          so many, pictured pink.
          Row upon row in high
          thigh leather boots, are.
          Why are you out this late
          at night?
          Many took, to me the look.
          I long, to press an umpired
          street, deserted here in pink.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1096
          Only But Through The Pain Of Others

          Hearing me see the growth
          I shed a tear of dew in
          hopes your roots
          take well.
          Every day such magic breath
          heady whisper srokes the
          leaves that bind
          your soul.
          Allowing mindful markers masking
          not the travels rendered sweet
          your limbs are true.
          Revelations opened surface of
          forevers past the future that
          each day can bring.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1097
          Only On Paper

          Coward I am not shave my word
          kill my soul be thy known
          as grace less
          light is bright with in hold the flame
          in the palm of your hand
          if you dare.
          Sight less eyes no anger there write
          about mushrooms in the dark
          of coures all your words
          have been said the
          rest shut out.
          Spank the monkey go blind is the sin
          that brought all here
          laugh out loud.
          Pasion life struggle not bury
          from fright..

          )   it(s life grow up..: >)

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive    1098
          Only The Best Restaurant Will do....This justice..

          Dress up real fancy, go out to an upper crusty snooty place
          where they pay attention to everything, but
          dwell in nothing, and do this:
          Strike up a very engaging conversation with your partner, when
          the conversation and rimming is perfecta in all the
          hush and quite, cut a greasy one, loud dramatic, with no intention other than to see
          how uppity crusties pretend
          the bean soup is not really running down the skirt or pants.
          Move the gluts around a little, kinda grind them into the
          crushed velvet a little, the more riskkay the better, like some thing is clingy but just
          wont let go.
          Then where they can hear you,
          remind your partner they they have to
          return the rented drawers the next morning or loose the deposit..
          A real blue blooded upper crust will....


          A(...ignore you...........
          B) ...think you are famous and have their
          kid come get your autograph....
          C(...will you hear one ask the matri-dee if they
          can some of what you are having..
          D(...or find the rare one who knows what you
          are doing and brings you over into thier table..and
          after dinner go to the Oprah and do it some more..
          E) ...or are you really just a coward and the thought of
          this just gets you to excited..but you deny
          it is poetry..

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                                      1099
          ooohhhhh u scare me..snivel

          So wear is these big tears,
          you dripp, no plops on me.
          I, snivel, I snivel) it(s..you sound
          like a new sewing machine.
          Yes, you can still snivel to me.
          Just please be careful, needles,
          need an eye two..and one for you..

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1100
          or

          Will you just ride
          pole to freedom.
          All cheap skates.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1101
          Oracle i ponder sitting

          Oracle forever patient
          home within /
          travels
          words seeking forever
          my ear
          mouth yours hearing to
          speak minds inside
          souls equal.
          Paths different same
          road
          traveled feet's many eyes
          harbored
          safe return hearths birth
          reborn home girls and boys.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1102
          Oral is cool

          Late at night really late
          comes on cartoon
          Oral.
          Oral is a protestant christian
          washed in the blood of our
          savior.
          Oral is always in trouble
          doing the right thing
          poor Oral.
          Oral is really cool...................

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive    1103
          other stars

          Tingles is point
          referenced
          unseen felt
          pulling in away
          lite you gaze
          inward at
          breath
          is
          gasp twas early
          cosmos tunneled cave
          fighting unknowing
          youth hotly air catches
          fire
          is bursting star hands lent.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1104
          others

          Hurt time wasting life singles
          mingle me to dust timeless
          left out line fine judge doubts.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1105
          our boats

          Hopeless, you and I, our only words,
          this book on paper, not yet pasted.
          It jumps, rather than know a sinking,
          thought, it's words would be wasted.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1106
          Our Caviar

          Melts in your mouth
          and in your hand.
          It can also mix in with
          your roe.
          You can never get it out
          with a spoon.
          Fish do fly I will be home
          soon love and bye.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1107
          Our Loo Women Too

          Where ever we go hope fully we find one their.
          Those warm days driving and the air is filled
          with last night's burbling from Jr.to deer.
          May be no one is looking when we half fill the
          small can at the convenience store.
          Maybe at the pub with a bad bout of fish n' chips
          runny not clear and we stop and give thanks
          for the scribblings in the stalls left their.
          I wonder often after reading the news on the wall
          of the stall who was real.
          Some obviously a tool or two shy of the shed
          others dear.One from a lady claiming oysters of
          fame made of silk and pearls textured of amaretto
          so fine blew my mind.
          Second thought why would a woman pay to use
          the loo in the men's room.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive               1108
          Our near forcast

          Fair to middling
          parting of cloud
          ridden by it is to
          be followed by a
          hail of Hamletres
          in pouring words
          umbrellas needed
          for she: comma get
          ready it is pouring.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1109
          Oysters Pink As Skies Dawn

          Succulent pink flesh
          Kelp rope thighs
          Young dawns light


          (it)

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1110
          P.H. UnSeen

          Sweet is the Langue in French
          such misteries inside do hide
          as they roll off the langue
          to my ear.....langue word
          even better
          silken langue on your
          thigh langue inner valley
          of back heart attack.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1111
          P.H.quiz.........

          .......You just have to try harder
          shrimp people.....rotflmho........
          Mercy is frog holding storks neck..

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1112
          Painfully painful tease of cheese

          It is your crust
          hard cheese
          on which i nimbly nibble
          crumbs fall to your face
          I fold you inside out backwards
          pouring them beside
          a nose of noise some blues
          you played last night
          drunk on all the wine lost in a single cup
          red eyes aflame me down
          in beds of grief blood on the floor.

          Cover all the noise we dare did make
          lakes of fire
          words of pills lost minds
          transcribe the joys you bare
          share the bottom grips in fear
          caveless sight
          eyes of chicken thigh poor breast less
          wear the armor of the land
          in pants you have gone bye I wash your stain
          of grapes that lashed us so insane
          joy is nimble all to quick to quit the floor.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive           1113
          Painted Womens Dream

          Listens freely thinking clearly
          brush is painting bodies soul.
          Inside her hand with me stands
          lasting thoughts forever known.

          Lives painted women dreams
          homes charity has clearly flown.
          Music she has married followed sea
          flowing thrilling sounds she would sigh.

          Touching tasting masking her last rose
          powdered voice is crying in the night.
          Telling feet the path is clearly over grown
          gowns frail body cleans the passing light.

          Moons beauty shadows misty loving scent
          arms of grace in valleys blooming sun is fair.
          Living loving trembles holding all this world
          perfection formed the shaping of her foot.

          Waking body chilled of breath and shaking sweat
          grasping tendrils fading fingers knowing she is gone.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                   1114
          Pale The Heart

          Waffing blood the color seen from differ'nt eyes
          the sheen in palm
          is you.

          Glasses worn by all no magic is the view when
          worn by few the gift
          one knew.

          Masking pigment blue a vision found red mixed
          beating healing found in chest
          so grew.

          helping hand a doctor practiced tymed of passion
          rymed all people winged in
          fasion knew.

          Traveled well worn road the path of viens one half
          the object of a project
          soon.

          Granting of all life knows not a boon passed down
          through lienage is a fool to
          wast it so.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                1115
          Parade Roses

          Riding your throat of whitest body
          hued rose of golden rain.
          Willowy stalk tall green of health
          few know but home of earth
          to grow.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1116
          party line

          i hear them talking, two girls, telling, to talk
          one on top, inside the other.
          redundancies, as girls do, uncommon famous
          for, untill one forbids proloquium, she blurts out.
          He would come into my room, and make me feel like,
          like i feel, like again he would do every other night, i like crying.
          my being of cotton, soft so fabric, so fresh, once pure, so nooo.
          she is caught up in the past, her future is paused in her now, still
          her other, the girl friend understands, as she is wise,
          she sits so alone, on the porch in a swing, her once was the rose
          on the edge, of her seat.
          the phone dangles from the fudge on top of her stomach, within
          one seal thrice, familial.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                   1117
          passing, we met....

          I sit witching at house on t.v.
          day in day out, all I do is eat, and yell at him.
          He is of poor bed side manor.He flips me a pill, we joke.
          My legs are like sausages, Purple, blue streaks, flashing.
          Food has to have salt, salt makes me drink more, Pepsi.
          I cannot wear shoes any longer, they split at the seams,
          if I stand in them.
          They are comming soon to take me to surgery, they have
          to remove the sausage, the skins are split, the meat is ruin't.
          You can tell by the malodorous air, sweat and sour pork, is
          Chuin suet.I could not feel you anyway.
          The hog farmer makes his rounds here every day, not only
          for mine, but every thing you donate from your frame as well.
          I am a diabolic! What happened to you? Miscarriages.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                             1118
          Passion lost on floor

          Introduction confused deduction
          passions thirst of trust
          ankles pen survived
          foots betrayal.
          Song you danced missed rhyme
          lost time
          found upon the sand paper floor.
          Trains sown lace behind a harp
          beauty strings a beast you hold
          within a hard bursting chest.
          Herding fashions unheard passion.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1119
          Passion Rules Reason Sucks (I'm In Luck)

          Gather thee around the humble cave of Klod...
          .
          Klod lives in a cave carrys a club with a
          masive knob on the end.
          When your a snob you get whacked with
          the knob nicy and lean..
          On the head the guys get it and are glad
          the gals always turn around and.bend over...
          .Klod with the knob cant figure that out
          they do grin at dumb Klod
          with the knob..
          Massive is Klods knob so much knob does
          Klod have that the guys faint when they see) it(s big
          this knob on Klod that he has.
          Do not be rude to Klod with the knob
          or Klod will use the knob on you.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                   1120
          Path O Trails

          Tedious the winding trail to one might
          find in me.
          Resplendence comfort in this blanket soft
          the sun would warm
          for thee.
          Absent toes our twinning of the springs
          flow pure clean water fit
          to us but drink.
          Islands palms music pan the combing
          trail of hair for me
          to lay.
          Laughter sweetly from your mouth heavens
          music therein dwell.
          comming home
          to you.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive       1121
          peanuts

          Fertile ground eats my peanuts
          feeding all my friends elephants.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1122
          pecavista

          Thought finds biscuits outside
          the mind runs around
          our daily special
          soup bread wine and
          some cheese.
          Do not the lost disenfranchised
          again climb the latter with
          knees just to howl at the moon.
          Flimsy is tongue made of paper
          and glue pinata hits stick learn
          not to rue politicians fortune made
          off the backs of middle class folk
          eating your shoes souls
          with children inside.
          Priests cast out sins of the fathers
          and mothers just to come home
          and do it all over again
          hearing lost wants and all of the needs
          stooping to breath last rights of diseased.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive         1123
          peccatori, vincitori sono quello

          Selezioni e scelto, voi lo ha usato male.
          Parole di titoli da nascondermi dentro, lo ho trovato.
          Sparga il pettegolezzo, buon fiore del oohhh.
          Lo avete guidato, alla crepa ed indietro.
          Madre, sin su me, li perdonano tutti.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                    1124
          People Who Read is it poetry

          Ashamed for someone no one it is sad
          it is blank I cannot read you with ease I
          must fight to read you.. I do..is it right......
          it is of course up to you to decide.....
          have you laughed..have you been sad..
          did you get mad...: :) ..to bad....so..glad..
          enough..I lay here taking it..being just..
          I will continue to be kicked to the curb..
          grateful for every strawberry tossed to
          me..I could...well.....
          use some cheese...) it(s..very grateful...
          ..thank you..do you feel it..no! ..then.....
          .......wake up....IIP

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive              1125
          PH Poem Trics Backed Out

          When you are done, servicing your poem..
          You, i am sure hit the little, colorless button, how drab,
          should be pink..
          The connection takes forever and a day, am i right..first
          time for every thing, i love dragging you out..lol..
          You need it, it needs you, it is blue two..
          Don't do another thing, neurotic ones i said stop..
          Always paste to copy..the title is saved automatically as you know...
          Hit your back button, lol...not that ones...unreal..some times it will say log in again,
          every
          other one of mine, i have to do this, with..you to...lol..
          First try, to go back, some times that works..or you can lo gin
          again, it will say.no poet found, do not panic, hit the back
          button untill you come back to your poem page, where it is that it
          was, when you wrote your poem.
          More times than not, your poem is there, where it left you.
          I am use to abuse, i will take the blame, thank you very much.
          When you come back, as i previously said, and its not there just
          do ur pasty, and copies then It will work for you, if you have not shut down your
          computer, altogether.
          If you do shut it down for git it...just go to the loo again..
          This message will self distruct when it rolls off the page..
          better fav 'es it..sorry it is..................................when it smiles in you..

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                                      1126
          phfff~~more ~~clues! ! ! ! ~~~for dude~~dudes

          Hey dude, no not you
          yea you,
          dummy walk ten paces left
          turn right
          walk three paces
          back up
          nine inches, sit down
          on the throne
          mannn, shhhtttttt
          where did you go to school
          now yea figured you were a
          little on the ball now lift it up
          and put this fire cracker under
          there, close your eyes plug
          your ears..was their a bang..? good
          now get a straw and look
          inside the whole thing now think
          backwards thinking thinking
          gone
          back to the place before you were born
          next time I see the gleam in his eye
          I will punch it.....racing to the other side
          to cut you off at the tip.......git sohh off of her...

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                    1127
          phfffff over here

          I will discuss a traumatizing subject.
          ......................Stalking........................
          If you are afraid to approach some one
          because
          you will be black mailed
          you are right..
          The right to say hi if she is just plain hot..
          is almost gone..except in bars..marshall
          tucker bars..I don't visit these places
          Or a guy that reminds you of that guy you saw
          at Chippendale's when hubby was out of town
          you don't vist them either earning some bacon's.
          Reckless eyeballing is a lost art you know
          the one where you are a done deal before
          they walk up to you.
          Now the eyes are required to wear contact
          propalactics they are just as uncomfortable
          as the others.
          Before I forget) it(is ok to stalk me I used the
          ) it(word twice I am a concervative..

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                    1128
          phffft ~~~~~~~

          &#922; &#961; &#972; &#957; &#959; &#962; is my name
          wear it well as we
          tend to your plots
          and bear fruit for
          the land we now
          dwell.
          Kindness is swell..: : >) it(s in you..

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                  1129
          phffft ~~~clues~

          Most rude people always digging
          and digging
          in my trash trying to unearth the
          nugget the pink pearl of
          passion played out
          on the screen.
          That is your eye looking yet because
          of the smoke rubbing your eyes until
          the retina is nearly detached.
          On a softer note I am a man, I am a women,
          I am the eagle,
          I am a women close to me that I went
          to prison to bury seven years back,
          I have been the nightmare of dreams
          that the sand women my queen
          had but known would have
          shaken the sand loose from her mind and sccrrreeeeaaammmeeedddd.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                              1130
          phffft ~~~wiggling worm

          You trouble me O small worm
          stuck in the clay of a broken
          mold not enough of a mind
          to fold over one end.
          Being the thickness of one
          and one half molecules thin.
          Into my wood you crawl the
          shrimp from your sea a
          pitiful lot indeed
          bored you are to lead me
          astray into your cave l
          like this hunting for treasure
          never buried
          never to be unearthed again
          not by any whom see.
          Smouldering in eternity this
          pitiful flame.
          Such a weenie of worm long found in your sheep.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive             1131
          phffft ~~sossoffftly~i~

          May never ask of you
          Once discerned
          it may be freely
          given.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1132
          phffft Dance

          For me.

          What was given to me
          will I gift back.
          Hurry Quickly
          faster run or
          you will miss
          the morning
          sun.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1133
          phffft Dweller Of Adullam

          Cavern of the soul
          hollow sound
          in holed
          throat
          your noise
          does make the
          grating on a board
          of chalk in my mind
          I hear
          if a troll
          lives above you
          and mistakes your cave
           for a sewer then I can understand
          the shuffling of many feet in your lair
          as all hurry for dinner no bibs to
          cover the runic dumpling
          you are in the dark
          with your weenie
          worms for
          comfort.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive     1134
          phffft Edda

          Into your
          home I come
          by invitation only
          your threshold now I have
          crossed nor-dish you speak
          to me this way.I an now in
          only through death will
          you dis way me along
          this path in your
          home free to
          roam in
          your
          loam.
          as I please

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1135
          phffft~ Gala'S~~~wiggling worm, dance

          Gala, stop, you kill me, spigot is off
          dance for you, while i sleep, pull.
          The bird comes, stops short looking,
          eye to helm, I know in misty, grass.
          Fish floats by hooked, worm has the helm
          the norm is, Gala loves to jerk some beef.
          Saloma ardors process, wracked hung
          to dripp sweetly up Gala's arm, gold cup.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive        1136
          phffft~ your ~phffftless yet familiar

          It is in your very words
          you hide the phffft's, I
          can tell.The alley is so
          very dark and yet you
          I must admit, are the
          proffessional of phffft.
          Have no fear your phffft
          is of course safe in here.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1137
          phffft~~ phat wittle ting..

          You look hungry like to try
          one of these brownies.
          Oh my, they taste like
          the one's in the store.
          Why did you come to L.A.?
          I want to be a movie star...
          Here have another, I know
          a producer....o.k...but...
          how...did I end up in this
          dark cold room with no
          windows...am I on a t.v.set
          already? ..gushing is happy.
          While you were asleep we
          were married.......you are wife
          twenty one...but you don't look
          over thirty...either do you........

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1138
          phffft~~sleeping~around~~

          i will go aroud back and sleep
          in the snow without you thinking
          about keeping warm maybe.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1139
          phffts Come Here Please

          Weaver of webs spinning
          climing down to
          the bottom
          of the
          web

          laying out the sticky
          noose climing
          back up
          to the
          top

          now I real
          you in

          you taste better than I thought you would.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive        1140
          picnics

          It has found some of the sandwiched
          sorely short of it's favored credentials.
          Yet there is never enough room for it to
          repack the basket by noon, lets shag it?

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive       1141
          Pictures Of Words

          Words the parchment sands of life
          your beach will know the beauty
          of each day.
          Oceans slumber wives do view
          churning of the parchments
          breath a new.
          Rushing future of the past fresh
          insight among the
          heavens bring.
          Destiny of future sings the coming
          of a king all knew
          was here.
          Salvation of the books most hold
          a different word is
          true to all.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1142
          pie

          Bidding starts at three point one four
          do I hear three point one four point
          zero zero one...yes tell me then..hurry.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive      1143
          PINK ALLIGATOR SHOES

          Solitary
          stealth snout
          hard hard
          blow is likened
          torpedo is
          pushing in in in
          even farther
          wedges head
          stuck in in in
          is rolls burning
          lives love in
          gouged tears
          of pink folds
          of softness
          flesh razor
          teeth is shreder
          rolling from inward
          out toes
          curl tasks is to
          multidirectional
          gullet a soft pillow
          it leaks pieces
          of leftovers
          you
          delightful cave.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1144
          pink flies

          Tickle one stomach
          unstitched, boars do,
          root in laughter, s play.
          All is time butt treats
          the eggs unshelled is
          freedom from the plate.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1145
          Pink Latin Regina Rose

          Sulum dies is dies.
          Sulum dies denuo is spiritus.
          Sulum bud is brings, is
          pinker quam unus pro.
          Sulum vigeo brighter, yet mollis.
          Sulum taste, leaves mihi exspecto
          pro unus pro, in pink.
          Each day is spent is half in half.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1146
          Pink Pearl Necklace

          My island afterthought morning glow
          pink sand coral waves
          help to grow.
          Happy are the clams every night as pink
          sand washes them in dreams.
          Under the water so clear I sometimes
          stay to long listening to the waves
          sing a pink song.
          Drifting with the currents of sleep pearls
          of pink slip onto my strand.
          Filaments permeate the strings of your
          dreams leaving behind a pink pearl
          necklace on this island
          of dreams.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive        1147
          pink tea

          It is strong fermented thus
          from honey is oaken thigh.
          Burn to sweet going down
          lips became your full face.
          How you never knew to wet
          the lakes I saved for drouts.
          You now gone I saved your
          spirit in the form of pink pee.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1148
          Plantation Moss

          Majestic graceful girth treed in perch I wait
          silouetting falling evening dusk
          moss tickles my
          cheeks waiting.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive           1149
          Playing In The Rain

          Free (it) is between two
          Love of you be love
          I ask nothing
          Flower of night

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1150
          please come back

          I still love you two
          while the other two
          make four of all
          your parts that r u.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1151
          please forgive me

          My eyes see your lips move.
          My ears hear all your words.
          My mind has no idea what
          you are converting, could it
          just be a foreign language..?

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1152
          please ma am, it's it's, not a tram coupler

          The tram is packed, femme
          your smell is intoxicating.
          Rough tracks,
          causes even me to loose
          my breath,
          gulps of hair, I try to sift in air.
          Your wickedness, is backing
          blushes even now into me, it's.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive         1153
          please shut the flap to it..on the way out..

          she will never let it heal
          staples in business end
          is staples
          why softly pulled
          balanced plop liquid
          spray divined
          behind me always touch
          weird fixation licking tips
          milky juice
          saying oyster likes grass
          grey white pink shellless
          meat for free
          no one sees mouth tubed
          speechless grunt caused
          machine a nervous break
          to gasp for me
          she stopped get pictures it
          never ends
          skulls cross a golgothic is
          caricature of
          romaines parade a olive
          lost in
          thoughtless grey static
          walking in her hand oiled
          petted convulsived reaction
          known by she
          harder she grows to a tweak
          electrical is sockets bold key.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive          1154
          please shut up

          walking walls
          wells of wal-lessness
          assail blindly to know
          knowing you
          shackled me so
          lovingly on pink pinkie
          fingers chain the fly
          before me broke with ease
          i collapse in your puddle of me
          from the past you saw this future
          a present only the inside of a wall
          could put in perspective
          i cut the ears from the wall
          dry walls mouths are closed in Lilllie's bulbs
          now naked once again bare walls
          nurse please...i have to pee..i..sob..to your wall........

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                        1155
          please steal me away

          Heart of fire misspoken moss
          of grace upon each tree
          flaming soul unfreed to seek
          it reachs high
          none can sea to only speak
          of thee.
          Under heavens brow it's known
          ever waiting hand out
          reached trembling pillows you
          i wait head bowed.
          Resting crazy thoughts twirling rings
          you have and always gave.
          Travel home to you I so do wish.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1156
          Pleasure Boat

          Flying down the ramp you came on board
          You and I alone
          yes, trapped.
          Laughing with the grin you have nothing
          more
          wanting to explore
          we do.
          Yams of candy sweet and pure mine
          to handle as I would
          and do.
          Inside honey glazed the roll was made
          dripping with butter
          gravy sore.
          Noticed cream was flowing south mouth
          was spoon caught in
          your trap.
          Gone our minds from fruity wine lust of
          food played out
          just well.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive     1157
          Pleasure in the fish i never ate

          Jehovah's witness gave of
          them haste late from sea.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1158
          Pleasure Is Mine

          Insperation is not a well to me
          its my life the words so flippantly
          passed with ease are to some
          a bit choppy at sea.
          Wells of words from the ancients
          please me.
          Lofty holed cheese I will squeeze
          till its Cheddar indeed.
          I myself am to inbred to be arrogant
          snooty a snob.
          Though they put a gag in their mouths
          to stifle some pleasure
          a fop.
          Beneath their pure feet to cough
          clustered in mass on a bum
          is the same class of hemorrhoid
          they owe and they awe
          when its mashed.
          So when looking down on the fella
          or gal pink or yella
          I ate the cod and fed the eggs to my cat.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive       1159
          plebotamist lobotomised nures>lobestrossity

          Trained by you
          i gently inser a
          needle in your
          neck tube red
          flows into my
          mouth being I
          am husband I
          have this only
          river that flows
          you do not go
          gently into the
          night bloodless.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive         1160
          Plump Pudding

          Gargantua her toes the feet do swell
          upon my neck they fest.
          Creamy is the calf I meant the calve
          eyes wide open in fear.
          Thundering thighs heard round the world
          earth quake thought when
          she walks.
          Corpulent massive varicose vein infected
          paucha store for the food
          in short supply.
          Breast weigh have a stone each when
          thrust in my face
          I do cry.
          Lips like sausages gaping hole for the mouth
          hold a plank to you bum or fall in...
          The Sugillate at large.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive          1161
          Plus you are fired

          Pink slip soft cute in size four
          I get so crazy thrilled to die
          for one more look before I do.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1162
          plus you are fired again

          Polite was what: >Queen mum then did ask<: : : :
          Excuse me: : >(in a frail crackly paper thin voice) <are you
          one of those special edition been around the block
          used up has been hoe's..?
          when she heard it spoken a yes and that you had been
          in a car crash, she ask
          if the car was alright and where were the keys
          for your mind was laying outside on it's crack...those
          blood stained hands have need be washed off....dirty skank.
          knappy headed finger fumbling lip chewing mayonase drinking hoe.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                              1163
          PoemHunter, ..The ugly teeth, Advertisement next to my words, is a bad stain,
          on the name of your worth
          Please, i would rather have the two women
          in cotton drawers instead of the half white
          half yellow teeth, under my arms is coat.
          It is a terrible thing to have to say,)   it(...but i will...say...
          These teeth fell out twenty days after this treatment...
          Continent drawers will by me, be a better form of
          diet control...in the end..not teeth that will fall out....lol....
          I canna smile, my teeth fell out..i can...wink.. wink..
          she takes me into her mouth, where i fill it up, with...you guessed it, peroxide...

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                           1164
          Poets Source

          Treasure lifes boards of bond known
          Waters oil trickles source from stone
          Palms finger lights a center to home
          Lasting moment crowds love adorne
          Fasting dropps of tears to drink apart
          Thoughts so bright wax longing heart
          Pain brought forth from simple words
          It is you, it is you that are of the source

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive         1165
          Polar Bear Train

          Flavors strained in brain
          from end to end amore.
          Train of gravy thoughts
          when found are fun to
          know.
          Nurses line my chart when
          thier hand is art.
          Mirror of my mask best
          sea a doctored face.
          Hyperdermic ending such
          found a liquid cure inured
          in you to care.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1166
          Poles Apart

          Stretching forth from heaven
          to the earth.
          Reaching down my hand to
          guide you up.
          Endless are the souls inside
          my guf.
          Poured into you.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1167
          Poo Afraid..?

          Of the dark..) it(s..a long road.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1168
          Poo Bangers

          ) it(s a long line, ahead of you
          ) it(s even longer, in the rear.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1169
          Poo Bank

          ) it(s never going to stop) it(s running.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive       1170
          Poo Breath

          ) it(s..ruining the moment..) it(s..criminal.
          .................) it(s..
                                 plugged up..) it(s..you

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive            1171
          Poo Breaths

          Running Contentious action
          thats condensed..) it(s..greasy
          fingers..in...) it(s..preperation..is..) it(..in you..?

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                     1172
          Poo Caveat

          When..) it(s..shooting..warnings
          ..) it(s.. caviar's..lost beads..
          ..) it(s..more than cave fishing...

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1173
          Poo Commits Suicide

          And never stays dead) it(s..
          not..magic..) it(s..what you
          ate..yesterday....) it(s..new..life>>) it(s..you.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive               1174
          Poo Design

          ) it(s intelligently indulgent

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1175
          Poo Dog

          ) it(s all in a well done bun.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1176
          Poo Dream

          ..) it(s...The...red..Hot..Chilie..Peppers
                ) it(s.a.moving Symphony.for..you
                       ) it(s..music..to..me

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive        1177
          Poo Emo Poo

          ) it(s a cut above the rest..
          ) it(s stuck on my mirror..
          ) it(s poo stuffed inside poo..

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1178
          Poo et Is Calling....you to Game

          ) it(s everything I knew) it(was
          ) it(s deliriously golden cakes I
          pat, they smell so sweet.
          ) it(is a new treasure every day
          with you I find.) it(is a chest of
          new found hope of diets past.
          ) it(is a blushed face now you
          see) it(..when you ride in morns
          early groan in) it(s nites laughter
          was explored, left, right, in hand..
          ) it(s blind love, winking never
          bland) it(s golden crown a long
          hard scream of living silky things
          you dream of) it(s one tear on top.




          Medicated:
          to the one
          and why she
          can never
          swim with
          me...............
          Medicated:

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1179
          Poo Factor

          ) it(s poo passed off as
          one simulated irs check.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1180
          Poo Fla've

          ) it(s more than a wink.
          ) it(s more than a smell.
          ) it(s more than a color.
          ) it(s more than the shape
          when released, uncovered.
          ) it(s more about the show
          and all that you are, every morning
          hung to Mr.&Mrs.Wiggles tart coffee.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1181
          Poo Foo

          ) it(s an AmeriCan touch.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1182
          Poo Franc

          ) it(s made in China also.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1183
          Poo Freak

          ) it(s Poo comming.
          ) it(s Poo going.
          ) it(s Poo on you.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1184
          Poo Fritters

          ) it(s yellow patties of cracked corn..

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive     1185
          Poo Girl

          ) it(s obviously not going to put) it(self
          into a boys band or hand....while getting a tan..

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive               1186
          Poo Gun

          ) it(s..shotgun effect...
                      ) it(s..a..blast
                           ) it(..woke..her..up
                                 she..can't..pull) it(out

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive             1187
          Poo Hand Shake

          ) it(s milk and penicillin
          inserted while shaking.




          )   it(s   an ambush
          )   it(s   cool
          )   it(s   you
          )   it(s   a two stroke

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1188
          Poo hangs out with corn

          Laboring ear after ear leaving husks
          never time to breath when expelled.
          Nuggets large and chewy starched
          flowing juice runs down your chin.
          Stored over time like a pregnancy
          bright flashing smile freckled corn.
          Yellow and brown indigestibles
          looking at the hanging dental floss.
          Poo and corn dangle fingers flinch.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1189
          Poo is winking at you

          ) it(s hilarious..) it(s you
          on hands and creaky knees
          ......) it(s..winked at you..looking

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1190
          Poo Joys

          ) it(s Leaving you with
          more than a mustache....

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1191
          Poo Laughs

          You run home to mum...) it(s..) it(s..sassy

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive         1192
          Poo Lishious

          ) it(s a woman sssoooo hot
          her boyfriend is her
          caloscopy bag

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1193
          Poo Lodge

          ) it(s one log on top of another.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1194
          Poo Marries

          Mary's Bursting Yum Yum..) it(s..hanging off
          ...the string..if you..are..) it(s....alive....
          ...............) it(s..done for..science

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive             1195
          Poo Milk

          Undigested penicillin..) it(s..vacated
                         ) it(s..unavoidable
                ..) it(s...tax..dedutible...............

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive            1196
          Poo Mind

          ) it(s trying to wrap) it(
          around urs...an swim.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1197
          Poo moans

          At the size of...) it(..) it(s..huge
          ..) it(..looks....at..) it(s...yours...

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive     1198
          Poo Muscle............sea food

          ) it(still has the
          beard attached.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1199
          Poo Near Death

          ) it(s spelunking off a string bean.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1200
          Poo On Your Brain

          ) it(s laughing) it(s poo off.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1201
          Poo Oysters

          ) it(s when pink pearls hit
          on pink porcelain quaintly.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1202
          Poo Pack

          ) it(s kept in a night deposit box...

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1203
          Poo Patch

          ) it(s two pot holes filled
          one a cut above the other....

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1204
          Poo Picker

          Removing left over
          peanuts from you..) it(s..
          ..) it(s..eating them..) it(s..
          conceiving food..) it(s
          filling.....) it(...up..

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1205
          Poo Playa

          Flavassublimedsub) it(.><.) it(s
          waist..Deep..) it(s..flippted
          ....desert..) it(s...) it(s..own
          deed...) it(s....a singaahh

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1206
          Poo Po Li

          ) it(is a moon that
          sheds wine a tear.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1207
          Poo Politician

          ) it(shaking) it(s own hand.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1208
          Poo Politicians

          ) it(s trying to bail) it(self out on you.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive        1209
          Poo Pound

          ) it(s blood pudding) it(scents.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1210
          Poo Queen Runs Throne) ..royal humor...(

          ....) it(s..hobknobin..) it(s..robinthe throne
          ...) it(s.knighted..) it(s..StiredSirbrown

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive            1211
          Poo Secrets

          Are never kept..) It(s..adored
          ...) it(s..sharing....) it(...with..you

          ) it(s my deepest darkest fears you found here.

           If I am so smart why does It rant? you
          are feeling this.
          If I am so smart how did I end up inside
          those cold, fast thighs?
          I was smart enough to dodge, your slap.
          Then the abuse really strutted....
          I kept going back for more...
          her verbals became more than Pascals.
          My body became more, than her work of art.
          It just, was not very smart enough, it became...
          Her very own, personal....toy to hurt to maim..
          just for joy..as it became dumber she became
          smarter in waves...smarter so smart, she
          could even stick knives in...it, > it <still would not
          do what the statesman wanted...betrayal if it did..
          THIS is my secret diary....no one will think to look
          here...except you....the first baby she made go
          away...she is the smart one...she took xanaxes
          and drank...after five months familial, she went in the........
          bathroom with a baby in her, a boy.. but......
          when she came out...he was in a plastic zip lock bag..
          she took him into the freezer in the kitchen,
          where she had the pregnancy test still and it was his test
          i must stop for a while, ..it was the beginning of the
          end of my smile into rage..I notified the states children agency
          they knew of her past, i did not, and they did not hold her
          accountable, for the death of my son..
          why should i trust them now..? ...they did even worse to us..
          but then they dont bother to do much for any one now
          having no money.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                              1212
          Poo Shine

          Chocalote nuts stuck
          to the side..) it(s.nickers
          time to shine..) it(s.weet
          ......) it(s..stuck in you.....

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1213
          Poo Shows

          ) it(is a bunch of noise
          that continues) it(s run
          on the directors feet) it(s
          grippe checked in stored
          on liefs color, full stage.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1214
          Poo Stones

          Drop with every moan..) it(s...
          ...black pearl neclace.
          ) it(s...fit for a queen...

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1215
          Poo Strains

          ) it(all at) it(s door.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1216
          Poo toots to poot

          ) it(s a river full of helping hands
          beholding of) it(..

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1217
          Poo Trick

          ) it(walks) it(sown dog.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1218
          Poo Uturned it in used

          ) it(was quick) it(s to quick
          ) it(s to late to shake) it(off
          ) it(s a whole chilie pepper

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1219
          Poo Votes

          ) it(s conscience does) it(

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1220
          Poo Waffled

          )   it(s Belgium
          )   it(s Shakable
          )   it(s unAmeriCan
          )   it(s made in china
          )   it(smells fishy as well

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1221
          Poo Wanker Soup

          ) it(s sad knowing you did) it(last.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1222
          Poo Winds

          Flowing through valleys..) it(s
          running down cheeks..) it(s
          a flood...) it(..is a log adrift
          ...)) it(..follows you..) it(s..gift ed..

                            is........(it(......

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive       1223
          Poo Winkles

          ) it(blinks blinks blinks
          ) it(s eating nothing) it(s..but air

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1224
          Poo.<{: }>. Liqueur: : : : > :)

          Going blind..) it(s..wood..alcohol
          ..) it(s..you..trying....to..mix.) it(...up

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive         1225
          poor bent imp winged butterfly

          Bringing the monarch cocoon
          to my niece
          on twenty seven march
          instructions were clear
          check this creature twice a day
          for it will appear
          she did not it crawled out with nothing
          to hold on to upside down
          the wings resemble now ugly cauliflower.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive      1226
          Practice in practice is

          Words lost ethical reconsecration in
          appeasing to split a judges decision.
          Words arranged pick truths digestion
          like writing poetry watching television.
          Words cannons rule laws working into
          masks to blame forgives poor in sight.
          Words ease pain words part troubles
          words fog a bank rivers to lose against.
          Words infuse the confused purpose lent
          to raise a level of practise in fresh breath.
          Word levels life spent reaching all words
          since words all spent still am I reaching into.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive             1227
          pre menstrual dance

          It usually happens during
          the ceremony along with
          some cram ted small beats.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1228
          presents

          Fair is the weather sun shines
          halos blond hair braided tails.
          Nests hidden eye towards egg
          flavorless dye know differences
          color mind tastes yum not egg.
          Laughing for the find in grass
          patterned feet paths looking
          to the ant to show the way.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1229
          Proof Read

          Iron clad monitored the dance
          shooting spit balls
          Is it does not mean it is without
          effort inside.
          Print of your mind, eye two one
          sees, absolved never to look
          both ways.
          Garages are empty, reassessed
          position, global economy, looses
          you in loss, me two.
          Why do you travel all the way to
          the Philippines to see me get
          hammered and nailed every year?
          Say it...smile..it is fun...eating rats..

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive       1230
          Psychotheraputic Alisitcalim

          Grinder of hollow mind stones
          consecration was improbable
          mov er couches quite likened.
          to Cerebral functions endowed
          planks innumerably polished.
          She was extraordinarily smart
          knows my duck needed cooking.
          Knowing me mores lessons these
          pulling teeth with ease letting her.. :)
          I sinned in my heart mind violated
          by my Psychotheraputic wonder.
          Touching not the bread on my body.

                ) it(s...is..truly miraculous

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive      1231
          pugbug

          Is is not a test someone will steal pugbug
          it is the only one in the world it's purpose
          is dual it needs not a male or female it is
          it just is a wonder one of a find me it did
          it is a testament to I am an American sod
          ingenuity it works inside and out it's hands
          serve multiple functions until I can get better
          understanding of it's needs I hereby invoke
          my legal disclaimer poem on it my pugbug.
          It's name is Caroline...it is young it is joy...>< :)

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                   1232
          punished

          So much so little so sorry
          I
          have not the wisdom
          of tree.
          Things will be ask
          I cannot
          do
          to do would be
          corrupt.
          Little human being
          angel
          saw it is her! ....
          Cannot three years
          mountain
          has lain unexplained within
          by they to thee
          mind did flee.
          Imagine can you
          so you did
          crushed heart of soul
          with a
          tongue horrible
          fate to small
          heart by another
          in thought not
          deed by the other
          withstanding
          yes known by all
          now terribly.
          Just for all the cents
          in a coffee can
          witness the soul of the one...she.
          I cannot destroy
          with truth a soul
          for none are so righteous
          in calm
          witness the soul of the one in she.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1233
          Pursuant to her rule...

          In The Circuit Court Of Your Discretion
                             In And For The County That You Decide
                                        Her State Of Mind



          Is It Poetry                                                   Case No: 1 Human Being
                                                                                     To Another
          petitioner
          .....v.s..........
          Underlying Motive
          Respondent

          .....................................Motion..to....Compel..................................................

          ...............Comes now in proper person pro-se, Is It Poetry.......................
          ......pursuant to rules as set forth by the people and as governed...........
          ......by the constitution would humbly submit the following grounds.........
          ...............in support thereof the following: to wit..........................................

          .................On or about the 15th day of April in the year of our lord............
          ..................2006...with malice and aforethought did cause to me.............
          ............................great pain..premeditated thus so.......

          ............................My heart was crushed in palm calloused hand................
          ............................by she a women you decide, if she is............................
          ............................Murderous thought harmful intention.............................
          ............................Premeditated: wisdom is sought by you.......................
          ............................Laughing at me she puts in the mail..............................
          ............................tears on a tissue for me to smell....................................
          ............................I am living a life trying to fight..........................................
          ............................my need for her milk........................................................
          .............................My body's in shock heart palpitates...............................
          .............................for that women in skirt she never keeps up...................
          .............................and in support their of relief would I seek.......................
          .............................in the palm of her hard calloused hand..........................

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                                                         1234
          Queen anon, her ant, hides my shadow..

          It is a bright world
          a strings of paths,
          I ride my ant, for safety.

          Queen mother, who nurses me still.
          Hidden in your bulk, is our future, in translucent purest is pink.
          It transcends, the black and white of most worlds.
          The grey world frightens me, my shadow changes, her mind.
          Fe minis, she waves me on, her servant I am.I nestle safe,
          in the shape of her fight.
          Her guardian, is larger than I, wearing my ants cast off love, in shadow.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                       1235
          Queen For Life And 1 Day

          No sound do I make in your presence
          hallowed are your feet
          where I kneel.
          Clear are the eyes green fire
          that hair of pasion.
          Different evey week as my pleasure
          service to me oath swore you
          bended knee still in fasion.
          Black with pink are the lips of pleasure
          drink them in like wine know none other
          till death over takes me and 1 day.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive      1236
          Queen In The Dark

          Command as that of a queen do you have.
          All queens are worth begging for
          last shot to the night
          where I see in the dark holding all that
          I love in the palm of your hand
          sing if you can from the unknown place
          you stand
          miss a beat of the drum
          that I feel in my bone
          to the jaguar in the tree
          to the andaconda in the river
          I bleed for the queen in her house.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive      1237
          Queen of Pain...dots conecting dots of Pain

          Queen of pain
          love follows dots in line
          far after it altered your horizon
          sleepy head softly lays thick grass
          which can smell a dream taken home and brought back
          Conquering: : Being: : Conquered: : : : : Being The Queen Of Pain
          Courage embodied lions charge golden being this man
          washing fear tears swallow hearts
          long before thoughts bore fruit
          saving all the lost gains
          pain of Queen.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                               1238
          Queens Mummy

          Royal colors harkin castles fine is
          the sand of lott in
          marble blocks.
          Jack was nimble ever
          qicke.
          Pathway garden over grown
          cant sea.
          Country cross with the boss
          Mummy cant be found.
          Cold wind blows masts
          cant flow the river we
          have known.
          This vixon do I miss.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1239
          Questions

          Past life an animale of grace
          enjoyed o wiseman my fate
          I ask of you deposed not a
          second in answere
          the future is pale indeed for thee
          slain for your meat
          mostly wasted
          land where you dwell
          for houses
          cages of steel to be
          gawked at
          store for your dna for the
          rich to see
          pretty is the picture I
          paint for thee.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1240
          quite

          The rabbit waits
          at night for play
          is not from heat.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1241
          Quivering Mass Of Protoplasm

          Blobbersquating sponge barbie
          shows off her troll legs at work.
          Then marries me...>) it(s..t.v.

          ...) iT(..quivers in her hand..) it(s..
          ...erupting....) it(s..firing..point..blank..
          ....) it(s..A..Hit.....eye..shuts..lite..out

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive           1242
          rabbit

          The rabbit rolled,
          in the throw es
          o f a great itch.
          It rubbed it; s back
          against the white
          ivory teeth in sleep.
          All we found was a
          lucky tale to tell our
          kids, at home, eating.
          The moral of the story
          children, is lost to me.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1243
          rain cries

          Tenderly skies held clouds
          warmed breath of child
          falling lost rain
          heard crying
          cold tear weep off suns eye.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1244
          Read It All* -Have You

          Reading lines of books the pages blur.
          My lack of comprehension is the rule.
          gleaning meaning subject matter true.
          After the cover bends your mind to me.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive    1245
          really..

          ....(.) it(.) .......) is(........just another pin........
          short of a head..........

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                        1246
          rectalectimistisism

          It is when you know you are getting it
          from a smooth talking politician
          and the politician is successful
          in telling you how good it feels avoiding it.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive           1247
          Regina Diligo In Nex

          Regina Diligo In Nex,
          Meus diligo iterum mos nos opportunus
          is nox noctis unus
          in vestri nemorosus arca archa nos wait
          together in incendia of sun, again.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive     1248
          Regina Est Ut Vendo

          EGO have known, but could non narro.
          A women of plures masks, assumed lemma.
           umerus humerus of Atlas has held vestri visio.
          Est ut oro vestri ignorance, abeyance of dignitas.
          Poena est nusquam ut you, if is est alius.
          Quondam vestri contego in kindness, was mei vos took.
          Veneratio of prosapia, terra, nomen, mei taken,
          from bottomless puteus ut whispered, for vos is est.
          Vos ludio ludius mihi, EGO ludio ludius vos,
          totus lascivio invicem, est infirmus.
          Silenti etc EGO vomit, Your visio EGO sum peius from, betrayed e.
          Meus key EGO gave vos porro ago, you partis is per them, you
          sententia nusquam mei, tamen vestri ventus.
          EGO succurro vos rideo risi risum kindness, you rideo risi risum in me, in nex.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                             1249
          Regina is Regina

          There are is fine woman,
          girl woman's, girls, there is Regina.
          This creature, will see her man cultivate
          the eyes of others, not in the simplistic way
          the others have so thought.
          Woman run the world, woman, smart woman
          run there man, not foolishly as stupid chattel
          to the ground.
          These creatures trust there charge, in silky hot
          words, they do reveal the minds of which the rest in
          shame , would hide.
          He, of her Regina's if it does wrong, never would the
          sound of pain from her firm hand,
          ever touch or reach your ears, to say.
          Except by way of the scullery maid, rich full, chamber
          pots in hand, such for some is rich desert.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                    1250
          Regina Pink Rose

          EGO faint procul sapor.
          Madide Is planto mihi.
          Incendia vomica meus cruor.
          Vos victum mihi iterum.
          cruor planto mihi somnus.
          Debilito in vestri telum.
          Amo dead, you sublimis
          mihi from, again, and again,
          iterum.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1251
          Regina Rose a Pink Nex

          Regina Rose a Pink Nex,
          Ordo men tumbus volturius vultus row.
          Centurians puter ut nemorosus centuries curvus.
          Lux lucis primoris placitum ut telum Pierce.
          Curtus mons montis promontorium brevis spiritus in tumulosus.
          Pugna pitch atrum niger turba eyes operor nutritor.
          Rutilus runs ex sand sursum manus manus amo vicis.
          Scepter exspecto suus incohare exuro est terra.

          Queen Rose a Pink Death,
          Ranked men tumble vultures look the row.
          Centurians crumble as wooden centuries bent.
          Light first accords as arrows Pierce...
          Shorter mountain peaks short breath on hill....
          Battles pitch dark black crows eyes to feed.....
          Red runs from sand up hand like time....
          Scepter waits her turn to burn on land...

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                           1252
          Regina's Royal Coach

          Pro centuries, I have felt vos knaw in mihi.
          Misericordia est pro dead, nibble in victus.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive          1253
          remorsefully without conscious i will tell

          So you did do it, after all
          standing there injust your
          bra-think is to what from
          me one v neck is like another
          space occupying by bent
          mind lost in time..so i forget
          to tie my shoes to your tiny
          tip lip pouting, slapping you
          i fall down while you stand
          over me lusting in your fine
          penmanship forging a union
          in trust...well it is! not to them.
          i hate screaming into your big
          chest it bursts all over me hand
          is never far from your cup..try
          and write a better paper so we
          can take the short cut back from
          your pink sunny day tomorrow.
          it is going to make you slow down
          to read between real lines insane.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive        1254
          Restless please Wait

          Land sways tree shakes
          fall leaves hair
          to amiss a husky
          voice in tongue
          direct a hand to
          comb tortoise past a shell.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1255
          Rigid Is The Mind

          Like kind some find color
          on the phew.
          Disiplined thought army not
          words the world same
          view.
          Ey all beds sleeping heads
          thoughts are dancing not
          of lead.
          Young was I could change
          the world like
          Eric Clapton did.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1256
          Rio De Janeiro.

          Fantasy,
          it is of mine
          I dream
          with you
          guide my way
          I trust.
          Beaches preaned
          coconuts
          a river there
          torrents stream
          running forever
          a day
          right there with you
          at my side.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1257
          Rock* Hard Walls

          Such are the chiseled works of
          perfections from graven stone
          forever etched in
          marbled pink.
          Tractors lost eye winks in the
          shade of your sea.
          Blessed is the ship of many
          hands.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1258
          Rockin World Today

          Orders to go double cheese please want you to know burger and fries on the run no
          time can i find all is well in the world of the sun so bright in my eyes can sea the
          running see on your back to the basics that brought u to hear all is well now you tell all
          the friends that borrow and spend all your tears down the drain to rain washes away as
          the snow white as you on the go..for the spring wishning..again for the sea...: : >>)
          it(smile

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                                  1259
          Rocks used to bounce off my head to

          Mellon's you check before you bite them
          unless the bytes are free.

          Fleeing the bank the politician one of many
          lost their hands.

          Without hands why would they need pockets
          yet they have more pockets than ever
          invisable ink used on U.S. no one
          sees I'm not blind I just blinked
          and it was gone.
          Labor is for the weary I'm to tired to stand
          shaking hands to drive the street
          meatless bones.

          I love a good lie one I believe in one I will
          die for one I care for wheres the door
          I'm to poor to taste the salt
          that kills me.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive           1260
          Royal Bard A Crum

          Haughty king no strife the queen
          of crowns your life she guards.
          Line of pawn to trees short step
          the breadth of board it's length.
          Castles corner does so glide
          in stride to slice unwary foes.
          Knight a horse all will ride in
          hopes the lance does pierce
          your side with utmost pride.
          Bishops robe can hide his
          pace to royal flush of face.
          Mate in check fielded court
          lighting path kings weight.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1261
          royal hand without holding jewels

          Manta ransoms gold, diamonds, emeralds,
          rubies..the like lost rivers edge
          fled John.
          Hidden, rides muddy water clear? ..Please
          it is I you speak to not some country simpleton
          fetch me my chest.
          Royal purple drapes his dragging thought now
          bought for lack of word.
          I ride to bonny north beds feather keeps me warm.
          Here wash these rocks as did you jewels to the
          other side don't get them wet..! ..now move..

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive               1262
          Royal, 'sycophants'

          They follow her around
          like she is thier queen
          professional loppers
          of hemorrhoids, she is
          so there preperational, H
          is abssurdly in need of a tucx.
          Off with the heads, not that one.
          Fool you ruined his, mums tower.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1263
          rubbed right, it sings pink

          Shadows ignored,
          we splash, and swim
          it is so awful hot,
          she is even hotter,
          once a month.
          The pink bullets,
          toothy fast, move astride
          fast of in remembrance,
          as she thought it me, a
          burning pain, again inside.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1264
          Ruin

          Dust from stone known
          around me from within.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1265
          runing in and out

          You fill your lungs till they burst,
          knowing a ghost is passing through you,
          except unlike the rest it's running in and out never stops,
          knowing none, no peace,
          volcanoes instruct mons Venus when you sleep.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                         1266
          Running

          To the start of tomorrow it waits
          for the night of today
          to fade.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1267
          rushing~lights

          Laughter from pearls the sum of the strand
          unfolding forever from
          your hand unto me.
          Inside the mind of yours being infinite such
          nature to behold dripping
          into me.
          Gathered host your pail of seamless grains
          this speck within
          that is me.
          Hearing such thoughts as flow from grace to
          know your touch so soft laid low
          just for me.
          Together ever more my soul can hold no more
          the sands that once
          roamed in me.

          c.e.mcl.~23~12~08

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive          1268
          Same jugs different taste

          Blind taste towers Caph drips
          honeys tears upward to Cassiopeia
          golden years to plan.
          Light face discernable reach
          cups trace a merry
          dance none can afford.
          Hollow read stretches eye in hand
          to hold this fountains moat in rain
          in showers amber white in red
          has flowed across a lip or two
          with you.
          Cradled head in crossing star bosoms
          beauty never far in
          curtain masking jars of wine
          to face another day without a jar that weeps
          your whisper heard within my name......

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive          1269
          same light...

          same eyes
          different
          sight
          lid opens
          fate wont let
          allow you to
          run very far.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1270
          Sand Of Sun

          Only from the sun such wonderous beauty
          soft benneth your feet magic fury.
          Blankes cover eye of soul kept warm by
          tender age of grace.
          Wisdom from the sand may ever flow my
          cup stays clean.
          Minds of ages parchment crisp with what
          it knows blessed it grows.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive     1271
          Save The Drag

          Hurry up and get your drawers off..: : >) it(s a quicky

          Lovingin you..: : >) it(s fun..

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                     1272
          save the rubber

          For life is slow
          turtles talk
          but
          rabbits grin so
          please save....
          The last dance
          for me............

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1273
          Scared Little Girls Big Ones You

          Afraid of the dark afraid to look
          under their own bed when some
          one breaks into the house.
          Even with his gun in her hand.
          When they do they like slow every
          thing down to make sure they get
          caught to be the first victim.
          Yummy says daddy death pulling
          her back by her knickers sex sells..lol
          Dripping she pushes her self into
          daddy d's face allergic to fish he faints..
          you get angry and cut his risks..
          Afraid of your own smell thats why you
          bought a husband you knew the wrists
          deflowered
          You hide under the bed wetting for the
          next paratrooper.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive         1274
          Scarlet White in Yellow

          Normal can it is be,
          a person undefined.
          Naked is it your robe,
          this finds clutched of.

          Trembles scarlet light,
          warms not a skin told.
          Moons blind eye knows,
          dark side only one side.

          Blaze stained windows,
          spark less air to keep.
          Tails of Haley weep,
          dust bowl eternity is.

          Knowing if normal scores,
          satin a suns face yellow.
          Burn to know lights dusk,
          favor found is unknowingly.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1275
          School Never Ends If Your Over Twenty One

          Flying low all the highs l now why
          do you?
          Love is copy and paste in the sand
          me with you.
          Love is the last dinosaour*only one *
          last whale*only one*
          you are here.
          Love is the warm whisper of breath
          on my flesh before
          death.
          Love is some englis wench probably
          french who thinks im eighty eight
          her bad my loss.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive       1276
          School Teachers Are 4 People 2

          Mother made taskmaster blade
          of this and more.
          Ample time do they make for a
          child in need.
          Invisible to a lot of what they hear
          and see.
          Designed to change the future near.
          Steadfast of their responsibilities chairs
          are the laps to lay all heads.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive        1277
          Seconds In Life

          Second chances only come around
          when you need one.
          Some never need two others need
          all they can get.
          Never show the door.. :)

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1278
          Seeing In The Dark

          Blustery weather thick fog no eyes.
          Radar is broken wollowing taking
          on water.
          Ribs buckling groans you hear
          must be dear.
          Silent laughter I hear yet still
          cant find my way home.
          Joy in a bottle over board.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1279
          she could be

          The temptress ravaging mind of thought
          her deeds merry Kay
          she could be the lion
          kicking my abalones but she wont
          the fruit of her write she goes on
          loving and laughing transgress back in time
          youth full days pulled on back
          monsters slain of old
          keep them down on the groung
          letting the day pass us bye for another is true
          to the heart
          the land where you lay and say...lets do another..

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                1280
          she does things, that make me happy she..

          She does not nag nag nag
          she takes a bath every day
          she is not gay one day and
          crooked the next she knows
          how to cook my noodles, is
          it so hard to understand not
          wanting to play doctor with
          the nurse who contributed
          to the mess in my head I am
          not dead and she does not
          make me feel that way so I
          guess yea, you are fired... :)

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive       1281
          she doesn't

          ~Want to talk~I understand, I put up a big front
          afraid to be human yes, i am guilty of that every
          day i admit it i react on impulse yes my hand it
          does get bitten a lot, so what.
          I don't live in denial, I have an agenda its you for
          now latter a bit less.
          It's that time of the year all right no stats form the
          statistician no not now.
          You get that feeling at least now i do to taste the
          words as they flow out
          to you found.
          Most think us crazy: rofl:

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                    1282
          she doesn't even cry

          Leaving me with all her laundry dirtied soiled
          not by me or her
          making me watch unstable
          things trying to blink closed an eye wide open
          her finger plunged into my other society
          for I live on both sides of the track
          loving me for my madness
          knowing I never
          wash the fingers that pick
          her nose..) it(s..filling...barely a tooth..

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive            1283
          she drilled me

          It was shamefully embarrassing
          laughs again, always will, she is.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1284
          She flies Uncorrectable

          If there are any flaws
          into her veins they fall.

          Sitting in a box of
          quickened sand.
          Playing all to pan then
          turns and runs.

          Leaf of many wings lay
          on and in divergent colors.

          Flirt the ocean she lays in wait
          sea wind air so sweet to hear.

          to be con.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1285
          She Has Some Corn Write On Her Bottom Lip

          It was hours
          before the cobb
          was
          removed from her
          pink steamy
          eye.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive       1286
          she is red, instead of pink

          I grew even pinker, with each
          passing verb, she tossed and
          slung at me.

          They were bar bless, this crown
          of thorns, upon her head she tried
          to wear so well.
          I bled, but I could not show the
          harm,
          flirting is so dangerous, exciting
          In all honesty, never boring.

          So pretty Misses, if the vines start
          to bulge, and you turn red instead
          of pink, stop and please try and
          reconsider,
          all the mail, returned to sender as
          a tease, from all the males.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1287
          she is twisted

          Tie me to a pole, with barb wire
          twisted, she isn't even, my sister.
          She said, I wuz hate crime, just
          waiting to happen, from the south
          she is, she isn't even my sister, is.
          I like her, she is twisted, of course.
          Read it backwards slow...........yes.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive    1288
          she jumps again cutting her wrist

          Mid air breathless
          stone dagger
          breaks bone
          meal
          cuts in arm
          tended unhealed
          doctors own
          brand of
          bandaid
          stick less
          both necks
          plunge
          further than both
          thought
          just to hang
          onto each others?

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1289
          she jumps agian and agian forever

          repeating over and over to
          end at the point from which it
          began to steady dripp down.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1290
          She Lays Back Down

          Shifting mountain dunes of where I lay
          none heard the plea
          tearfully made I
          ask of thee.
          Harkened not this whisper in your ear
          would hear winds that
          trade the sand
          so dear.
          Enjoy the labors love reposed the hand
          unfolds clutched safely
          in the room of sand
          so safe.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive    1291
          She Rolls Over

          Other side of the dream I dwell
          sand my wine it
          comforts me.
          Vanquished are the clouds this
          night I see
          heavy are all stars my soul they
          feed to me.
          Entwined elemental sand over
          all the mountain tops
          do you have a place inside the
          box for me.
          Replenished guf of music sheat the
          violist hear
          colored robes of white I feel
          are near.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1292
          She Rolls Over Looking At You

          Looking past the clouds unshaven
          that seemed busy minds
          that were.
          Oceans separated her from they her
          children whilst he slumbers
          still at feet.
          Out side the lids of glaze sand lays at
          rest twinset her thighs.
          Keeping breasts ready to nurture winds
          that whisper of the little
          one out there.
          Inside the waling of the king was known
          to all now needs to rise
          to sea the dream
          alive once more.
          Neither worlds at slumber while the
          garment from her neck
          that was his token.
          Green frothy thighs of seas few thinks are
          taken wandering thoughts
          fly over to pointed
          sand.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive        1293
          She said I'm nuts Well she's

          Dear Indigestible,

          The only pair you left me..are under your chin
          at rest..expanding in breath..that's warm to
          fresh...to seed the garden in falls..to my knees
          to long..a dropp of water from your spring..brings
          life in tired joy filled hands...bubbles of soap an
          Irish bee's pollen..laid in wait..honeys return..blessing
          blessings..utters..utters.. milked..in soft silky..tongue
          sliding...narrow paths explored by farmers poor
          like...) it(or not..) it(s a hovel we share) it(s expenses
          your bliss is happy when you moan in falls..a crown
          resting lightly..known hill top..crowned in foams water..
          that falls from the secret...cave of life..my death..reposes
          here in you) it(stays a growth a thorn..desires famished
          meal) it(live for you...) It(s lovelyingly..loved) it(s you to
          ) it(it) s you.....

          ) it(cannot be reproduced unless) it(does) it(for you.
          ) it(s honest) it(s morally impotent) it(knows you are
          wiesasellais....) it(varies) it(s lengthy seductions in you.
          ) it(s no major production unless you want) it(to
          Of course) it(s nuts every one famous like) it(is..

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                            1294
          she said, head hung down...

          She said, I am a terrible stalker.
          She said, I just hide behind the bushes,
          then jump out make a lot of noise, and run away..
          I never stalked before, she said,
          she would loan me a book..? ..Loan me a book..?
          She said, I am confused...I said nothing,
          are you not wondering, what I wonder, in the bush....
          She said she would teach me Latin...

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                   1295
          She Sits Back Down

          She after for some time standing
          in all her regal shroud drifting
          wind blowing thoroughest ice
          heart of man reclines
          tword the sand.
          Hearing conversation of children
          wind born from her husband
          of the sand forever
          lost to her.
          Eger for the embrace of the leeched
          water free sand she
          does sleep until.
          .

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1296
          She Sits Up

          Safety flows down her chest she stares
          gazing at the shores of
          far off lands.
          Inside this flowing mind so fast the
          channel dwells
          flowing rivers do all cry
          for me.
          Terraced in a robe none have seen
          to know.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive    1297
          she twisted me

          Barbed wire, unwrapped pole,
          cuts me, she drinks my blood.
          Tree in oak, to swing me from
          neck stretches, she sings of it.
          Sisters, twisted dance the dirt,
          life they resuscitate, in one hand.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1298
          she waits, to dust me

          I tremble in tics, my dog and I
          sharing dreams.
          Her shades are never drawn,
          I dance watching, am I allowed?
          She is bored easily, I doubt if I
          landed on her,
          she wouldn't even pay attention.
          You don't even kick me.Off of it.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1299
          she whimpers fickle breath

          She wants to
          she pretends something else
          why
          can she speak other
          than
          in a language not of
          grunts
          is she normal
          does she scratch like
          the rest
          does she pretend
          she does not itch
          poison ivy
          little league
          Browns Dartmouth
          stale Yale
          a prince in
          Harvard
          Can she speak or not...of..) it(..or no.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive      1300
          She.rushes..home..to her secret

          Dirty her mind cannot stop it is out but how
          of all the nights before she shut her door to
          heart robing hand.
          Did one of them pull it out of messy me dirty
          thoughts get out of hand and into the other.
          Blast that dirty little secret it only works when
          I am asleep feels tight the lid he did.
          I am not asleep and I'm soaked again in sin
          thinking back a long ways back even further
          to far just right again asleep my dirty
          little secret and me.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive               1301
          she's adrift with adult scurvy

          Corsets bone sticks
          allover
          Ivory tower randie
          curdled cheese
          upunder hard
          in stern
          port bows
          her foam top waves.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1302
          Shopping for me

          lol...the other way of thinking dummy.
          Laying under clearwrap exposed...lol

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive    1303
          Short Love Poem (for ladies only)

          Dear Lady,

          i hope i reach you in time i forgot my glasses
          any way the sundial you left me still works...
          all the fellas i meet here seem well..kinda..
          they look at things they shouldn't...i sold the cow..
          to some Indians..they gave me all of there wives..
          i don't know what to do with all of the milk...
          the fruit was gone, i left at your cave..the pole
          was gone as well, the flag was still there...one of my
          new wives has,
          strange impression of a crown..on her thigh..
          it is pretty high up on her shelf..
          Paul who was..belated died in a stampede
          of Chippewas...they also gave me a wife..
          the whites are no where as kind as them..
          so i sell them all of the extra milk...they give me the
          plums to there wives as well as some of the
          hairs in there forest for food...
          i am most fond of there hairs..as my weight gain shows,
          your are much better.., puffed, buffed, sweet..
          .well my love light grows..and grows..
          falling in you always yours...
          love of your..pears...) it(s weet..) it(s..lovingly..you


          ............................)   it(..is...poetry..

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                      1304
          Shut up is language sinking my ship so is a dry sea..

          Voices
          through my eye
          nerveless train
          you run on my brain
          shameless wench.

          I learned the word
          from a women
          unlearned is
          Versailles lived
          unparodied in lost cave
          spelunking ly crazed.

          Locale door of mind
          found is big
          shut-up
          she will come dwell
          yell cowards run
          jars of witless swells.

          Dreading spreading tails
          are cats
          rumored whispers
          laydied in wait of
          lika proper
          ladfie may ppear
          lost arts walled in tears
          sniveled bye the bye wenched years
          tell it to my hand) it(s yours.................

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                   1305
          Silence Etched In Stone

          Rocky slope of hope the fissures
          in stone would ask.
          Many are the thought that led you
          here to be of deaf
          persuasion.
          Obsidian of brightest hue dared to
          glance on it.
          Ramblings of my mind unsure to hear
          the stone speak such.
          It is not in silence you weap the mountains
          strain as well.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive         1306
          Silly Notes

          Notes what notes they
          weigh me down.
          Silly the pad over me
          in my dream there
          to keep.
          Tied when last spied
          around the necks
          of the her sheep.
          School was cool writing
          the answers on the
          back of the girl in
          front of me.
          Then following them down
          short of the ground
          before I sleep.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1307
          Simple Life I Choose

          The fantasy simply put goes
          counrtyfied like this.
          Nip and tuck flicked a blade
          when bade to nick on me.
          Make me is grace find a place
          I have for all to see.
          I think sex changed obtained
          girl friend her heart I found to
          marry me being led to sound
          economy.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1308
          simply simple

          Root this weed hot sweaty suns back
          shallow breath much strength wanes.

          Son of a son of an old weed harvest or
          lieges crafty sight when sun agrees.

          Pipes drink all of waters vintage on horizon
          Hills many steps meander paths of goats.

          Twilight salt clings snugly to bodies pits
          Salvation rivers in small stream I bath.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive          1309
          skinless... i drag my foot..through you

          if i tell the truth
          she will be
          arrested
          So my foot is bloody
          it is other wise unremarkable
          except i cannot stand on it, yes
          it weeps
          it has never stopped
          the bandages are yellow with age
          and fluid of youths
          uncrushable need to explore
          gives way to side walks
          that creak even under my light weight
          as did her car when drunk she passed
          over me when i was asleep
          trying to stay warm......under the car...

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive       1310
          Skrunge Bob Square Pants

          Yellow in color i am he a sponge
          bouncing a long some
          menagerie.
          krusty is my crab fellow true red
          lips of my leg free food &#1089; &#1086; .Llc.
          none &#1073; &#1077; &#1075; .
          Bue green is my mind when hard
          to find a squid for a friend
          ink to lend for my pen.
          Square are my drawers none ever
          to find most don't fit.
          No brain in the sponge that is
          blobersquat Bob this day...

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive            1311
          Sky less Sun

          Barren grey and cold metal door
          cylindrically barred
          dreamless slotted heavy
          baseness reparation
          eating mechanical
          serviced by none to serve
          limbos purgatory king is patience.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1312
          sleep, deep in irony

          Woman, man to divorce..Dicourse of course..
          The Judge ask the man..a question about her accusation,
          I heard a lawyer say..your honor his body is here, but his mind
          left on vacation..Judge to woman, Ma am, I think what you did
          could be wrong, does your new boy friend know what you do,
          what to say? ..When this romance does not last..and you come
          here before me again?
          Here is the house, property and all other accedes, begone..
          You did a terrible, unspeakable thing..and are rewarded for it..
          Nothing have you to say? ..May I retain you after hours to repair
          this prenuptial agreement...Soto voice....

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                               1313
          Sleeping

          Sand of my dreams may I skry
          nothing words convey that
          reciprocated wont tell.
          Dwelling in your heart of kind
          few know.
          Heavens lids my gate to your face
          shining down.
          Sand weighs all down.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1314
          Sleeping With The Enemy

          I cant help myself) it(feels so blind....no tounge
          cannot write never tells...bleet heaven..

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                1315
          Sleeping With You

          Flowing freely effervescent from
          the sky forever new.
          Blending moist all the rain harps
          of gold knowing joy.
          Flutes of pan slowing down never
          less hearing all.
          Melodic of note b sharp bright star
          hardly flat hold a scale.
          Heralded flowing wind softly chime
          angle fine know your lines.
          Meter heart beats the spark current
          passed all on time patience
          land.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1316
          sleepy stream

          Laying on my stomch,
          I count the fish, as they
          drift by, all are asleep.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1317
          sleepy tree

          She leans, so wind bows,
          in silk is barely with heavenly.
          Governed waves airy rags.
          Languid her penitent looks,
          While she dips her musty is
          sack cloth, against tree trunk.
          Patience full, is his so weepy.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1318
          Sliding off my mind i'm in white air

          Static it is annoying you get used to it
          it is true for a while you remember
          every thing not of the hear and now but
          of all your prior thorns as well.
          It is a long way to the bottom of this well
          I have been falling for a long time I see
          other things yet I don't see me
          not even my hand.
          I was just told that the static is the noise
          of your lights going out things have never
          been brighter maybe things are looking up.
          If you can still hear me don't wait up It can wait.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                 1319
          Slippery Isle a party line

          Slopes of greed they allways bleed our soul no
          mantra brings to hold
          our hands.

          Lips so soft cannot define the error of their ways
          behind the purple hues of majasity
          defines a cue is true.

          Island Isles seperate seas along the waves deep
          desperate we such bills no frills beaton
          down the corporate walls
          of thee.

          Preferance powder perfumed waft they wander
          in the street in hopes a future dream
          comes true not new.

          Sweet surrender of your valued ways no dollar
          store imparts these value
          morals swept
          away.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                1320
          Slippery Snail

          Asleep as you lay
          slim trail nuzzling
          tongue flicking lip
          drunken on beer
          irritatingly brown
          shimmering wake
          flavors tasting you
          new route through
          ear tunnels waxing
          home is the nose.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1321
          slough it off

          It must be removed, from those, around me.
          They are so perfect, I cannot be
          any thing more than a burden.
          From which end to start, peal, pull, cut, panics
          a musk, It breaths.
          I try to talk, the evil is so raw, thin, sliced heart.
          So bad, when sleep does come, those parts
          for others, must all be rejected.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                    1322
          Smell

          Freedom of scent to roam
          amidst the blooms before
          the bee awakens from the
          wing of its queen wafting
          nectars drink of
          heaven.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1323
          smiles, is a Living picture show

          You are bad, dab wicked of course, yes
          you are, David's copper, your field lost in to
          wisdom of hands he just, cannot follow, while
          watching your eyes, that wont tell.

          Yes, I know that it is, confusing, but you do drip to
          the music, you find in your mind, watching her sway
          all the time, trapped inside of a box, that is I, sawed in half.

          Wicked is your thought, yet you lie to the field, on your
          back to the sky and it is bad, this dab, you......
          wipe on me, with smiles.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                              1324
          Snapshot

          Across the years we lost touch, your way was unknown to me,
          mine to you.
          How did we let our years fly, the children you have now,
          were supposed to be mine, mine yours.
          Yes, I have regrets, now seeing you after so long, your beauty
          still excites me, time did not ask you to fade away into times
          closet of memories, the door I am glad in respect to those,
          was kept shut.
          Waiting now for you, our respective spouses untold are not waiting
          for time to unfold, a fabric some what bent, from weight of tears.
          Excuse me, waitress? ....that is a bad accident out front, why do
          your customers face all of that..?
          Those are your what ifs, that might have been, flashing behind
          futures..passing to go around you, some times they collide....

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                1325
          Sneaky Thief

          Through my back door
          no manners in such
          disgrace for me to
          know.
          Hospitality still here
          it grows by leaps
          bounds and
          bountiful flavors
          of you.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1326
          Sniffing

          A magical fart, fanning fumes.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1327
          Sniveling Heights... :)

          As I snivel at my drivel all that comes
          in mind to say banners aside yes
          I like to hide and prance on
          unsuspecting pray..
          English lousy boys howdy still my mind
          would play a trick or to and have you laugh
          at stupid things i write and say.

          Pappy's grand i once heard tell
          life was rough back then..is no telling
          all the gellan..folks right here will do..

          You respond with some song and life is made
          a living hell..come to you and fill your eyes with stories unbelievable...oh my oh
          my...what am i to do...
          fill your cup with some poo and have you drink your fill.of
          ) it(s..Chocolate eeg bog....black gold..dark tea..

          Spellings bad letters worse have spell check and
          could care much less
          save much time hear you wine my words come out just fine..
          So when i drivel you hear snivel difference tween the two..phew.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                                1328
          Snivels reward

          Mountains of tissue toss
          sopp up tears missed in
          laying asleep wrong bed
          counting all missed laughs.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1329
          snort lol fart lol more than that you sprayed on me..

          I have never seen so much hog wash
          chameleon fake gossiping lol where was I
          oh yea comma spouse swiping you all
          ain't even southern corn bread dripping
          let tin cat fish do nasty things lol to your
          parts where was I comma if this ain't you
          name changing head banging finger lick
          shaking Jesus this devil that god plays
          referee knicker washing pubic drying rats
          mafia wannabe avid consumers of well
          dirty little secrets comma I guess ism the
          only one hear who likes milk yea I spell) it(
          like that comma anyway knowing you are
          innocent of this makes me feel better o.k.
          Anyone interested in swapping) it(inside the
          outhouse..lol..) it(s..pergatory..) it(s..you...lol
          vote if your innocent.....lol...) it(..is a study
          on innocence....

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                   1330
          snow flake each one sought

          From the slope off the graceful mountain
          she is always
          the hand that never closes
          falling it is from
          without solid form
          is now white
          cold filled
          thirst falling
          falling is voices crying
          darkly more than the flakes
          of all cistern's
          I am of he made
          doomed is souls
          hades in made asking of me
          burning souls
          remade image of
          slain flakes snow to
          lay stained all to know
          hurriedly I turn
          to go
          lest I melt
          in a pool as that of none few ever come back
          except one.




          Happy birthday
          Daughter of
          six....16 april 2009

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive          1331
          so Busted

          That is why,
          you are not my friend!
          I would then see you,
          for who you really are.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1332
          so what, if you can make me, stutter over you..

          When I crack my lid, and the nurse is over me
          with her scalp, I can tell by the glint in her eye
          she loves me.....I see the scalpel....
          ..it's better than nothing, released, ..
          never fought, Emily is...Plus it's well...
          it just shudders me..
          The bed pan is always late like breakfast...my arm..hurts...Nurse, nurse...

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                         1333
          Sods to You..I am American

          I am not from England closed minded
          Americans sod the ground with fresh
          grass so the feet do not stray.
          I am American.
          Bleeting sheep are bleeting sheep
          in America bleeting sheep speak
          bleet.
          I am American.
          A pound weights sixteen ounces
          no cents comes of that.
          I am American.
          English is a foreign tongue to all who
          do not speak it.
          It is learned to speak to convey that
          which other wise would be lost.
          Speak no more of things that cannot
          speak because they do.
          I am American.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive    1334
          sofffttt~lights

          of which of yours would i see
          humble of mask is he
          masks of humility no longer sea
          would i ask of
          but honesty
          for the mind and heart flew in this
          short life
          many are your lives on bended knee
          to see
          none my fleece
          i would but cannot
          but bear witness
          to thee.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1335
          softly then sleep

          Fluid drips angrily arm valid hot
          rows death to banked shores on
          beach needles pined body down
          flowing pain Danube blew to blue.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1336
          Solarium

          I tread quite,
          facts hide, in
          a one sided
          conversation.
          Sun, is so hot
          plots always
          ripen, I watch.
          Riddles leap
          hurdles, knees
          bleed, as do
          turtles, don't run.
          Unauthorized
          use of my mind,
          those bushes be
          heavily thorn ed.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1337
          Some come Some go

          Marrys seat a bench
          folding in or out
          stained lead
          up to down
          roundabout
          trains moving stops
          dark tunell
          trap?
          you say go
          I say yes you say no
          flipping me looking
          you eyes
          meet middle ground
          friends
          the deed buddies
          never have I sinned
          Latin
          or Italian
          until now with you
          forgetting the order of seats
          some come while some go changing yards.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive     1338
          some islands wrestle to float

          You came the same way we did, i don't know how,
          quite now, crabs are getting away.
          You will when you get hungry.
          I think you will find that the cobnuts, have quotients,
          like that chocolate you eat, from back out yonder,
          hurry others come, again.
          We don't worry about that, untill
          after you eat your pudding.
          As we each await our births, some [painter her words<
          we lay on.
          The line is long, some wants are shorter, desperate for life.
          Why do they chose one number?
          Walls close off, as the hand reaches in like forever,
          pops our heads like grapes.
          The line is long, some wants are shorter, desperate is for life.
          The soul is dust, the body is ash es, it's mind will never know.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                              1339
          some of what you learn

          Dreams burn the sky, to free it.
          It burns the sky to learn, if it's you.
          It will watch you burn, in it's stead...ok..
          It, if Eaton, it would burn up in it to.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive          1340
          Some One For Got A Couple

          The polls were colsing rushing through
          traffic to vote for the right man.
          Promised free turkeys to start our
          new change.
          After voting I turned and a nice women
          said some one voted with your name
          and you have to go to bed.
          In jail, for voting for the wrong man.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive    1341
          some ones retarded fish and i

          we are both much safer,
          blowing bubbles, through
          cracked, and milky eyeballs.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1342
          Some Will Come

          To the sound of words when spoken
          all can see.
          Help me be inside the book golden
          hued forever cover bound
          inside of you.
          Stitched in mind where those may find
          a path not narrow where all
          can stumble on.
          Lips of beauty words do flow endless
          river tide effects
          my soul.
          Paying close attention watch all grow.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive    1343
          sometimes when she writes

          Days in time her different masks she wears a
          face of lines long hard studied hands ink plays pen.
          Choice in freedoms smile a sunny day it rains
          cooling throat her mouth sings lullabies of work.
          Brown sunned skin legs strong hitched skirt helps
          hoeing rowsin mind the plants come along a song.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                  1344
          sometimes, is funnies

          yes, once, just some times,
          backward in a thought
          when light streams out,
          hilarious so is much stolidness.
          whimsical, lips curl up and inward,
          revealing, a sharpness.
          so crowns of queens fall out,
          is prince rushed in, squeezed.
          eruptions, of mercury, the dentist,
          cannot remember to drill one.
          the chair of anointment, left giddy,
          to roam, in her plastic mask
          looking into mine a reselection,
          incurred, rushed so, much hurried.
          blushed in timidness-es, funnies patch of glass.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive              1345
          sooooo....just because i'm southern

          You think
          i can't think like a turtle
          and catch chickens
          like the foxes do.
          Do you....?
          Terrible mistake on you
          to make
          you sleep to
          don't you...?
          Remember the next time you
          throw little rocks through
          my brain
          the train will come for you to.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1346
          Soot On My Face

          Longing forest bright
          twilight tipped lyard
          sykinard fan

          Petals sunflower tears
          violin playing banjo
          pikin band.

          Clors pink and Black
          like johnny cash
          pam tillis.

          Knowing your so fine
          guitar jackin fine
          dixie chicks.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1347
          sosofffft ~~~Come

          Eater of worms.
          Little creature of stealth you try to
          fain my day.
          No not you to the one whoms whimsy gaze
          is trapped in mine this moment.
          Little contented of heart that thou art
          the dagger of thin blade through your
          left ventricle please.
          Your liver will go to a most deserving
          wino in need.Jaa mata

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive     1348
          sossoffftly~i~~tiaera~

          Alright I know you hate it here you cannot
          say what you want and that sucks.
          Come home to dad and we will talk about
          it like kids on the shore it is not like we
          can talk on the captain cooks island
          where I live.. I will sacrifice a poem aday
          to your gods as you know I can write 500 a month
           so if you want to play roman and ask for more salad go ahead..Lovenly always watchin
          your thighs....and
          your hips and~~~~
          ~~~~~~)          it(s going to)     it(s you~~~~~~~~~~

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                             1349
          Southern Sensibilities: nOt YanKeD On dAnDieS NoOdLe

          With a scrape and a bow,
          us southerners claim, she is familial,
          in such a way, as to avoid a lie
          while belying ones DNA,
          was thus extrapolated, for the cause in good grace..
          before such: was a yank
          saying yea, I knocked her up, you her brudder or sumthin...

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                         1350
          Speed Up The Wheel

          Blood burns hot mind runs cold
          sweat it glistens as a marker on
          your bust.
          Lay in fields of barley golden hay.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1351
          Spirit Killer

          Lost in this world these people
          so profound they have no face.
          Displaced of sound this misery
          to carry children off on train of pain.

          Dead of mind break the child to way
          of thought thier soul always is lost.
          Sharing voice my mind this head
          is talking to a rocky ledge of thorns
          to those who cause the pain inside
          they know.

          Dread young child knows not where she goes
          trembles face creased and lined inside I scream.
          Issues of power no control the child of psychology
          dreaming of a far off land a beach where I may lay
          a shaking head thats seeking peace.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                1352
          spread it

          Like smooth red clay,
          with a one handed driver.
          Rubber trees, are owned by who now?
          Do you need it, to smell the road?
          It's nose rubbed in tar, you follow it's words
          across it's top, in a thin trickle of water,
          found in almost every scoop, full, plump rasins.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive              1353
          Spring leaves

          Winds invisable branched hand, is
          as one green leaf, sings to another.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1354
          Squire Squirrel Squeaked

          Bread crumbs, french fries.
          I cut through the park, to make something happy
          in desperation any thing.
          The bench was clean well oiled, from a prior occupant.
          That made me happy for the small things, bench burns hurt to.
          My nurse said I have to be back by three, and don't give my name in with strangers
          who breaths on me to hard.I was willing to plead up
          to anything
          just to keep her hands out of my head to day.
          She never wraps my head right, I can smell it healing.
          I was asleep before you, the warm sun, filling me with vitamins, my friends had all
          borrowed.
          I awakened into the arms angels, taking me to heaven, to change the wrapping on my
          head.
          They said, they have received to many costumer's, from the nurse,
          while one dipped honey, for me to pour into her coffee.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                            1355
          ssoofffttly~ i~ tread ~tiaera

          Use your fumiest femininity to hide your displeasure
          of men up your arse not me yes them.
          Sorry (no I'm not)       that the pile of dog feces that jack
          built fell down to the ground and cracked
          your crown like it should.
          Bipolar wench in a wrap around skirt eating finch
          thinking it quailala until your
          tonsils explode.
          You have me living on some god forsaken rock in
          the middle of the ocean I'll pack my bags move to
          United Kingdom of immigrants then you can sniff my back.

          I still love you,)          it(s not thanks giving dont trip...Bla Bla Bla

          but may your Christmas be worse than mine keep
          your lips sealed dont say it..
          To bad I have your poems now beg.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                        1356
          Standing

          Sounding trillions of grains the
          sand it flows from me
          washing over rivers to dry
          as she creaks.
          Ocean waits for peace to hear
          me slumber again
          laying down getting up
          never again
          Under sand the scarf that binds me
          meek is gone eruption of
          flame to your picture
          of water to cool.
          Nothing but sand on my mind eyes
          are blind to the call of sea
          to sooth all my fears.
          Dynasty's crumble and fall at the
          slash of just one
          single tear.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1357
          Standing Stone Stilled

          Sanded hearts fired in still of flame grant
          my mind to find the keeper of
          my words to you.

          Teaching far off place of dreams so stilled
          the voices multitude loud in
          song drew me to you.

          Arose by name means no thorn it pricks the
          heart desert stills the heating sands
          you find may flowers.

          Nothing states the isle when parted still one
          voice with all it's
          power veiws.

          Drama kindred spirt flys wings of steel are
          free be still stay kind always
          asking why.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive           1358
          Stimulation

          Of the mind is a necessity for the
          growth of the body...
          Languishing in squalor I want..
          Brokeneck moutain will be the
          movie to see when (IT) s out.
          Wanting the mind is not the
          same as having one...
          Having one as small as (IT) is
          thats the joy..big toy.. deployed..
          not in a desert but in an oasis of
          lush tribal dates that i eat
          and are sweet..Thus is prose
          my great joy.....>>: :)

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1359
          stir that pot

          Juices have to flow
          strain the
          veggies out
          till the river runs dry.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1360
          Stormy Eye

          Sitting up long slumber day of waves
          wrapping silk caress muscled
          calves in sand.
          Thrusting arching of the neck shivers
          pleasure rock the land.
          Over head the cumulus gather in dread
          they on water such
          know fear.
          Reaching out simple thought in head
          sinking pleasure boat
          all dead.
          Yawning smiling sigh all spent reclines
          again in sand.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive     1361
          Strange Box

          Washed upon my shore an ivory thing
          glowing in health of secrets
          yet to come.
          Rune ancient letter engraved all are
          raised hole in side to
          flush the top.
          Music I do hear silver tunes wafting
          true most melodies are
          pictures of the future
          held for you.
          Box is groaning under hand the
          whispers wrapping round
          all ears to know the
          lottery here.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1362
          strange how we covet parts of the other

          We lie, trics, an hooks,
          just to cover your arts.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive     1363
          strike me again

          When you,
          touched me the first time,
          You cried.
          The shock,
          was like a bolt of lightning,
          from the sky.
          I never realized the strike
          would be so close, as that
          very first time, on rocky points
          green eighteenth hole, your
          torch still spikes the iron from me.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1364
          Struck This Coin

          Floating ship upon the sea of sand
          guiding light that is
          your eye to find.
          Lost by others treasures word some
          chests to one
          may find.
          Yes to wind hurried sail land of heart
          soft beat by
          me to find.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive    1365
          subtle hints

          Trust evaporates when checking
          my coral you find the shade of lip
          stick is yours.....
          You over power me placing me
          high in the canopy strong winds.
          Trails of mine leaving even the
          best indian blind in love with awe.
          She the tracker waits patiently for
          the jaguar to return to her cave
          safe for airs musky scent to join
          in a feast of salty fleshy muscles.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1366
          Suicide

          It was she
          she knows
          hangman comming
          she knows him personally
          growing ever impatient wanting him gone
          refusing to live he gives into her demands
          she grows warm sensation
          artificially heightened
          she smiles
          into sleep.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive        1367
          summer leaves

          Lazy green winds, laid her against,
          his vein golden leaf, shadow bloom.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1368
          Swimming Through Air

          Light of spirit helps me soar
          the sky I sing.
          Inside the draft up high wind
          to bring.
          Gathering of wings feathered
          dreams gleam.
          Hearing bretheren flap a
          mighty beat.
          Thunder claps shape her skirt
          for all to see.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1369
          swishing cheeks

          It takes 2 more than those
          to wiggle my toes inneed.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1370
          synonymous to

          Dear synonymous,

          Yesterdays folly grew bold..in the fold of your skirt
          ...) it(..was desperate..not depraved..as she whops
          ..milk..missed my cup..danced in my eye..fell as tera
          Cannoning my pants in a crease..where..) it(..fell...
          lonely is my hand..the thrill..of spelunking deep in
          your cave..drinking the water..and nap in a thrill..of
          a dream...driving so deep..we wreck..our jeep..on the
          hill where all go to..visit twin..peaks..in our hand..gently tweak..
          My eyes grow dim with age after..years of joy..we leavened
          my toy with..lavender made into soap..whats a bubble
          or two..in the nose..a den..a place that gave..us a girl..pearl
          of pink is her face...) it(..grows..dusky eyes wave..hand to tired
          ..most loves..first love..) it(s..life..blessed is the grip that..) it(
          missed..being..) it(s..wolf of a wife..) it(s laid to sleep
          ..........) it(s...lovenly..loven) it(s..love
          ..............................................) it(s..never..regreted..) it(

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                          1371
          Takin a Bite in Liberty

          Hold on let me grab that rattle snake
          before it bites your utters and they fall
          off no milk no hay sad day Ola) it(s o.k..

          He will go to a different ranch the ranch
          of pain, where we send the women hawks.
          You know those old looking dried up ain't
          had the sap God gave a pine tree seedling
          for lightning strikes) it(a year from next week.

          You got me all side traced from pain and
          suffering plus I'm gettin excited thinking of
          ) it(swellon up after the snake chomps down
          and shoots half an once of liquid fire in pop's
          ole jhonson out board don't run nomore no how.

          That's) it(s turning blue and green purple looky
          veins busstun he's outa gass anyhow you git the
          genral direction the winds blown your fun ifin you
          stop to long in our town of Takin a Bite in Liberty.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                  1372
          talentless in death

          It is never wasted, it
          can fire from any gun,
          color filled thick liquids.
          One blank, sun less work
          some lonely, old doctor.
          Nures attention, to the flap.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1373
          talking bird a gossip tup of tea

          Busy
          brooms sweeping clean
          dirt as bright as sun would is
          to die
          an ear to lend while I
          say more.
          Understanding
          feathers flock to talk
          is the morning threw our trash
          this day away
          gone thoughts brought
          back to life
          in lite of she of we our mortal souls
          another glass of your foul tea
          I sit and tremble Bella Donna's worse.
          Singing song chirping here
          tone deaf are most men hear
          the verse is caught in web of curse
          that sticks an eye or two.
          Yes mam, no mam
          it was not me
          who said those words I plea
          your mercy quick and sure spares me this date
          your lovingly fate my dear..) it(s grand I fear..

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive               1374
          Teacher

          Judge,
          Before you I stand as I always have not
          to undermine authority that never I had the
          knowledge from you must made seem to
          follow never spoken dusk token flooding
          halls of my mind to tread water..floating.
          Most riddled Sir: ..: ..Language flows from a
          mouth guided bank on river never to know
          the stirred oar shallow hand water bearing
          direction of forks laid in proper instruction
          flowing following course proper correction.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive           1375
          Teachers

          The backbone of any civilized country
          they flow with the student whatever
          the discipline.
          Many are the finest here in word more
          language so thought without a book
          in a nook have i seen.
          The biggest choice is that of rejection
          for (it) is nobler Shakespeare did say
          verses that of a bloody nose none
          can say
          what is wise with that choice.
          Own perspective deed in advice is the
          claim to character, ethics and morals
          an imagination is no dirty thing but the
          word non profane can still cause
          a stir you can betcha...peace to all...
          allow word to flow to the eye
          not a log..he did say.. (IT)

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive      1376
          TelePrompTer

          In my heart the shade is pulled
          separating you from me.
          Tiny holes you cant see through
          are all ways part of me.
          Avalanche of thought untold
          mountainous periled world
          this show does end.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1377
          thank you for your concern

          It is just a little bit of
          an epileptic pileup.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1378
          that i simply

          Was borne blind
          i cannot sea the
          path know matter
          how narrow i am
          or how wide are
          the waves ocean.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1379
          That Voice In Your Head

          Is mine............whispering forever
          chills up and down your spine.
          forever and a day..

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1380
          That was to quick

          I would fire you but you
          were the last one hired.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1381
          Thats Just The Way It Is

          It is not telling you nothing,
          dont ask? ..ok..besides..
          Your the ones afraid, of your
          shadows.
          Being as is, it shows upriver
          day after day with out any pay,
          what the iip.
          You are just premature,
          dreams of pro bono, Bela blahs..right?
          If you did,
          you would just sell it,
          for nothing,
          like you did the future, inside.
          There is a big difference,
          between with holding nothing, being
          inside of some coward...ups..
          So what, thats just the way it is.
          The way one or two wants it,
          so what.it's ok...ok...

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive    1382
          the belt that beat me...

          strong thick without remorse
          never growing tired of tears
          it never heard my little cries.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1383
          The Best Fish Bait

          Is only found
          by turning
          over every single
          rock you see.
          Then you might find me.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1384
          the big dump

          This song is not about me.
          It is about your swollen face, and red cheeks.
          Your streaky made up face the little rivers running through it.
          This song cannot hide your rumpled cloths, you never changed.
          Your thoughts of leaving all your friends for good, taking the blame.
          Bright is the halo to hide your eyes from mine, I still hear you.
          Blame for what? Unfeeling, thinking just wanting more?
          This is about courage the cowardly dog, sleeping on the floor
          needing all your toes, combing his fur, nice and slow.
          While you sleep, deeply again.Safe with the knowledge inside.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                   1385
          the big fire

          It has waited forever to burn
          one thin strip around it's Terra
          it is then in the reckoning of her
          -shelves
          it's, sun is fast it's
          fire, to burn inward or out word.
          Her self to make or unmake in it.
          This your thousands of beach's,
          all of it's sand in your wisdom, it
          would cling so hard to a few, is a
          pebble on it, choices are made
          not of it or because of it, it's you.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1386
          The Buldge

          It is only
          my heart
          beating
          in one of
          your little
          hands to
          needful.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1387
          the cave that drools

          It is dark unlit
          we stop
          hungry
          the menu is
          plain chilly
          filled with fumunga
          gunja fungi
          cheese is drooling
          unto
          from above unseen.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1388
          the ditraction, s

          To make you a word,
          UN repulsive, soft alive,
          sharp to cut, blush to rush, is experiment's,
          half of life.
          To holds you still, pinned as emo, boy, girl
          cutting around up down, while the mirror,
          calls your name.
          You, ..your rose it's softness unconfined
          in silks plush, cupped breath of hand,
          you are it's name, it is what..tell me?
          You Sir: chained to the wall, gagged muffled,
          it's she, hears you SOB uncontrollably, as she in black
          leather lays it on again, it's more again, than not.
          It's OJ that you run our town, after all we golf together.
          Disruptions, pour mad T.V..unremitances, eruptions
          controlled guided, on preachers court, our time rushes
          in on one last glorious,
          round of applause, you know,
          your show must go on, without pause.
          Remember to smile at the usher, crushed verve's is back..

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                        1389
          The elephant and I gave each other back the peanut at the same time

          Fumbling in our back pocket
          we decided to use straws...) it(s.....
          ....difficult....do you get..) it(.......drawing straws...

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                 1390
          The Huntress

          I stand, furred, on all fours,
          Alone with the moon,
          As snowy as my owl companion,
          Who is off in search of some snack of his own.
          At my feet a blood-white hare,
          Long-footed, well-fatted, nearly tailless from our brief encounter.

          I offer up a simple melody of thanks
          To the spirit I am about to consume
          Along with the meat that will sustain me
          For yet another night of melancholy.

          But the prayer becomes a pitiful plea.
          Is there no one in the night like me?
          Must I always hunt alone
          In these nameless ravines?
          Slinking through thickets,
          Ready to spring on any warm-blooded thing
          That happens to cross my path.
          Is survival all there is to life?
          I let out in a plaintive wail.

          But as my own note dies,
          A new voice rises
          Far in the distance
          Muffled by the snow-laden trees,
          But still distinct.

          I hope!
          I prick my ears!
          I hear you!

          I reply!
          My vocal sigh entwining with yours.
          Your notes rise higher.
          Punctuated by the fall of your feet on the crunchy crust of snow
          As you approach.

          I wait.
          Our feast bleeding out at my feet.
          You appear, as black as the night,
          As black as I am white,
          A fearsome beast.
          My knees go weak.

          You mount me.
          I allow it.
          I howl.
          You groan.
          It is over.

          We feast.
www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                 1391
          We sleep.
          Nose to tail in a ring,
          Yin and Yang in fur.
          Love, feast, is circle

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1392
          the last casket

          It is decayed, for all to see behind murky lead glass.
          The sun is old, the plant of youth has faded to grey.
          Futures squandered, roads of gold, are left undead.
          Gaunt, robust once is night now returned, in dusk.
          Extenuation of extinction, again now assured, empty palm.
          Treasures in treasure is treasured by whom is-left to be.
          Last rocket bus, with children in trust, fall up to the sky, to cry

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                 1393
          the market can only go up

          Especially in the farmers market
          I not only grow it I have to eat it to.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive     1394
          the menu

          Is a reparation prepared in
          daily dietetic feeds
          needing scholars in tweed.
          Blushed hands beet face
          swollen feet would I serve
          monosodiumglutimate to
          keep orders fresh in false
          modesties busts in oysters
          sauce prepared from bays
          landlocked.
          Chefs groan complain effort
          is palate not received with
          smorgasbord's delight to eye
          on plate always you wash a lip.
          Menu changes almost daily
          for your dietetic feed a rejection
          refund bleeds in front of mummys
          need to staunch the burning oven
          that oven is you, smoken red jacket.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1395
          the morning crowd

          is hardest to seed
          is...
          egos........................
          hard core slippers.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1396
          The most complex words

          Live side byside in penmenhood.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1397
          The Mouse With More Than An Ear

          The ear was of great size so much so
          it caused the mouse to run on it's side.
          Hearing this the ear turned a blind eye
          kept it closed most of the timeless day.
          Helping the patch it became a diaper
          knowing this made the moon take flight.
          Combing home we found the trap set
          the tail was still attached bootyliousiously
          cried out and was never knowingly here.
          The rest of the story will come latter.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive          1398
          the Nymphomaniac that loved me

          She was
          all of Marylin
          related
          to dolly
          some times
          Madonna
          when riding Wynonna
          she was undeniably
          every mans Fianna she
          had though these
          mental swings that slept
          the bounds
          of longhand which needed the
          attention from many doctors
          most of which were nice
          yes of proctoctors
          these specialized in the
          cleaning of councils
          untill i found out she
          was an agent
          working
          for the department of justice
          she did more
          than make chad of me
          looking down
          at all of my losses.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1399
          The Other Side

          No boat gets to the other side without a maker no rainbow lack of rain no dawn with
          out dusk no happy without sad feel like im bleeting in the wind to my face not all times
          just few sad is the face that knew joy would you have this face a mask? happy is the
          face that is sad tears then fall. my face is same on both sides none in the back dont
          attack...

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                                 1400
          the rights of it

          Songs of word, flies hard from
          me to you in pause.
          Yes you did, you rest upon the
          bench held closed.
          Rooms of court, fill the sky how
          it tries, to still the day in rest.
          Know judge is an island to bath,
          in the mantle, of purples black pen.
          It will read the docket, against her sin.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive       1401
          the sea, is pink

          I wash my hands, in running pink, fast are two
          swells, it clings to me, death on you, my burial.
          Waves, that run, i float on, the board a hand, is
          sun to oil, this rose a tender flower.
          I cannot share my fortune, only you may know
          fate, rose in petals find new shapes, i tire of silk.
          Pink of word, around this glow, it floods my scents
          with those, a lacy secret, this nose, this tounge has known, forever.
          Orchestras, arrangements, notes that seize a score
          of musics cleft within a bar, a Majorca, never minor
          pinks, of the gold.
          Pink is always, never one to leave you on your own, to
          find your way that is your home, out side, a Rush.
          Pink words are royal words to some, it is rare, to know
          another forum and compromise, this norm, why is to tired.
          I am male, i will wear her pink, it is my crown.
          It is, never found unconfined, when i can make her proud, is it? .

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                   1402
          the spacial place

          It is inside,
          sublimity mind of white light
          that you find for, is it not?
          There is no gait in sample sport,
          you abjure when it,
          plays you for all that you are, in you.
          It is quill ed in the thrill, of the ink that you dripp,
           dropp by dripp,
          from the edge of your lip,
          pinkish hued in the light that is you.
          I will not,
          cannot smell or taste, all her tissues,
          that weep me within blush touch of you.
          This leaves me more than foolish, whereas
          It blinks in the light looking up into you.
          while it gets drunk on the rind.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                      1403
          The Sun Directing Me

          Mazes, flowers wrapping vines unwinding
          scent in blosom find with time to hum
          a dancing song on wing through you.
          After moon decending skys chill of air has
          warmed a path decendant motes of light to
          guide it's way.
          Zippered powder floating down in dreams
          fluttering hazy freely stilled small stream
          without a bank to clutch it's tiny feet.
          Enters fathers net to bless your sleep.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive         1404
          the truth about my first cut

          I confess,
          i only told the psychologist at school
          it was from problems at home
          when she saw the depth and breadth
          of the cut on my arm
          latter after dcf became involved and
          i was nearly taken away from my dad
          i admitted that my two girl friends and i
          would pop a few pills and
          drink from each others arms.
          We still do it but with parts none can see.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive         1405
          The Unknown Poet

          Line by line marching on in poverty
          dinning fare I'd care a word will do.

          Leaving nothing as I find it undisturbed
          body placed in way of morning light.

          Inky Letters flowing yellow paper duels
          cracking bind a doctor heal this book.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive      1406
          The White House Lawn

          Laying their looking up at the nice equipment
          they use to shoot me full of Thorazine...nodding off...
          ......others yelling..don't..tharaz...me bro..) it(s..sanity

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                          1407
          the window in me

          Even i am in you, i am so cold.
          You just add another coat, blanket out the
          voice, of me inside you, crying.
          But why?
          Do you not see me,
          here at your side,
          only is my whimper,
          sounds of your shaking chest
          can you feel..me...Do you? ..Do you..?
          You look out the window, again, to think..
          What is that voice in side me saying...why? ..
          it is only the window, speaking to me,
          only it's againt..my glass..to find...
          one reflection in all the many that once were me..

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                1408
          The Woman, inside out...

          She knows, She says a door, a button now
          pushed, past a bent line, that wiggles her.
          When she grippes it, magical mirror breaths
          smoke, she grabs, like jars, inside labels with.
          He is just to simple, enjoys wiggle different, to
          birds taste the same, would she turn the knob
          of door..and cross the wiggled line..ask more?
          He beggars to the mask, unhinged hanging on her
          back, golfballs full of bags, to stare, I do so love.
          His genius frightens her, the ego cries all others
          filled is he in with, jealousy was the last egg, left
          unfrocked, yet she loves to scramble his eggs.
          Then if you are what is found, do not hide me..

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                   1409
          the world was flat

          By boat we reached the twin hills
          in the island was a small river of
          coconut milk it flowed to the sea
          enriched from past lost heroines.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1410
          The Worm The Sparrow Missed

          Caught the largest bluegill here...) it(s food for thought.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                         1411
          the, KeyHole

          I hear splashing sounds, noises
          the hole in the knob, is my magnant
          i have to look, i must look, if i dont look, i will miss it.
          i should blind my self for looking, there is never talk of it.
          Through the hole i see a whole new world, a different
          kind of blindness, one i run from but can't hide from.
          Through the hole i see you, helping me, help you.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                            1412
          the....Resume

          Unusual, are you..?
          Tell me then, how I think..?
          As it says in my..tell me how I think..
          Your thinking is twisted and blind on your face
          can't you see...?
          What I see then through your eyes then is, > I am just one giant
          vaginal waffle <
          <to restock your shelves- with
          I may be young, I may be dumb, never will I be filled
          with your...now
          get out of my office...you Russian Putined thinking bank of man....

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                 1413
          then again

          I am a resonable man
          I want all the oysters to.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1414
          THEN CAME DAY

          Atoms building shaking splitting
          firing blasting into existence
          rending the cloth of time
          shearing the fabric of
          space sitting still
          catching death.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1415
          there is butter - there is margarine

          Just the sound of butter is so, so..so..wells..of
          wholesomeness, it is beauty, it's cow in the fridge,
          moo-wing for you, still the other, when
          reduced, is like pale, once pink, Sundas
          Thai floated off with, in a head of Mrs, Wurst.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                  1416
          they all waits watching with more than eyes

          To hear their tails
          jerked of hair
          or combed back into
          it'self against or
          with the grain
          no hurts.

          Relief
          to some different to all
          likes to bleed the
          foe
          be bled
          holding head feinting.

          Telling nothing with ears
          safty in reach
          roped in
          of with her own hand.

          Talking to ease
          hearing to talk
          playing dead
          seriously
          mistakes she wont make
          again.

          Is her tree
          safely against her
          resting fingers her leaves
          tasting testing
          for roots sadly laid
          upon her ground entwined.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive         1417
          They Gather Patiently I wait

          Sqaure the table seen most
          are here.
          Gathered all some think
          some say some act.
          The parting of
          one sea.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1418
          thick or thin

          willingly knowingly hopefully true
          all of that which i said to you.
          thick or thin brings up a grin
          seeing you dance to the beat
          let me have a nice chunko crab
          is it the cornna you stan on
          mattas not to me the cusp of
          your words are uppur to me
          get me high ofn this floor.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1419
          Thimbled Grape

          Grape in world
          of passions high
          justice flows from
          heavens gate.

          Ivory hand to borrow
          night of time night
          light the star so salty
          is sweet perfume.

          Stomach taught to flat
          so fine I count
          the lines of music
          gathered here to play.

          Dancing muscles draw
          me in I spin like top a
          string pulled taught my
          life to you pours out.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1420
          things of him

          Of him because..it is wise


          1.Never cause harm to the defenseless.
          2.Suffer in salience the harm caused to others
          unless interference is to keep harm from acquiring.
          3.I cannot live without dreams.
          4.I cannot live alone.
          5.I must catch fish for my self and others.
          6.My burdens I carry alone.
          7.I shoulder the pain of others their shame do I carry.
          8.My vaity is hollow my argance percived.
          9.Excersice of mind body whole spirit.
          10.The woman of blood choses wise be sure.

          branch of tree in trunk the heart be sure.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                     1421
          thinking conscience thought

          It is tribal thinking it thinks for you
          thinking thinkers think guilt if guilty
          thoughts cannot think become I am
          to think is a crime if thinking not deep
          thinks right left thinks different mind
          thinking hello better yet thinking no
          lost moments quite conscious thought.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive      1422
          Thirty Days

          Thirty days are like thirty years to me as many tears
          in those years can I shed in a month
          forever is a day to me.
          I cannot resist a mercy relationship brought my way
          as I become the shoe on her foot
          she wears me quite well
          I dont yell.
          The few good women I've had in my life for the most
          part were gracious there mercy
          I wore cross my skull.
          I can make you cry dont you dare lie sitting there
          pecking away in your pink underwear,
          knickers black.
          Yes I have wondered a lot since November twenty four
          and will wonder more
          in your heart.
          As for the one that got away well I only go after bipolar
          women life then is swell getting your candle burned
          from both ends and the middle
          what a dream.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                       1423
          this is what she did to it

          She removed it from the salt of
          her mouth
          loosened
          is it to free yet free it is
          eating nouns acting verbishly
          hanging all prepositions blind
          to the needs of pronouns
          truly swimming with conjunctions
          hidding adjectives in it's pockets
          free of commas wiggly lines
          confusing interlinking juxta things
          lacking tails to proclaim that
          it is free
          and still miss the boat
          while it is the two holding fond hands
          existing in a world made so simply full of it

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive           1424
          This Play, You Would Direct it? .....

          You toss me a mind, used, unused, cleanedbyanangels@tear.com
          my plank on your stage pops up, i step aside, you follow
          it is to, gets excited, but you get more excited, why?
          I am innocent truly, yes, i am starting to think you already
          know this to, because it is, such a small 'id'' to aim at this, it's
          director, changes my part so often, you just stare, in wonder
          to think, those words dont match, it's lips, yours, the body does.
          I go to sleep, not long, i come back, my little humble pile of
          pink litter, is being seen to be picked through, by the many, for
          a cause, inkinged by me. Your smiles, make me blush, still...
          You just keep saying, as you drag me poor wits, through out
          one parts per dozen, speed up this action, while smoke starts
          a seepage, thin or thick, are the days...Shakespeare's wandered too..
          Stop warring about all the parts, we will fix the stage, the lights
          will show your full chest, even without..a Google or two..
          Terr as grasp, is a firearm, with that pink marble burst on the
          staged grounds, be sure..next please..up here...roll her..in Filip's,
          on this recipe, sloughed off in bread crumbs so dear..It's only to show, you a view..

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                                   1425
          this wave the other window

          You look right in, through me.
          This window,
          my wave it sings of foam and needs.
          Unknown to others,
          walking there with you,
          along the shore it's home.
          Birds toss fish,
          from beak to beak,
          dropping covers white cotton balls
          as lose change.
          People exchange glances,
          as you pass by them.
          They recognize Regina,
          as she passes through sand,
          under foot as water slowly,
          flows over one bare branch missing it's leaves...
          Two sets of eyes,
          reach halfway through the window,
          while the wave,
          brings me inside of you,
          ever closer to the shore on which you stand.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive               1426
          Tia Juan due..soon

          Get your own island
          queen, I ain't no
          holiday may west can
          do spend.eat my tuna.
          It's served on saturday.


          Enigmas are
          not for the......

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1427
          Time

          It is simply a grain of sand on a beach of Trinity
          never letting the butterfly go.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                1428
          time isles in it flows

          One breath ocean to gasp
          is glow trembles
          cure to stars pain
          tears shed to light path
          trail dawn to eyes so bright.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1429
          times currency

          Flushed in flesh resting thrice thought
          blushed with brushes mounting waves.
          Sifting dust of age resting on the mount
          of sight gathering fish to feed tread not.

          Walking oceans edy's currents are heard
          traveling lines crossed intermittently being.
          Laying roads crossed so wearied can rest
          minds sound crashing weaved to remember.

          Head on palm sitting waiting uncaught lost word
          waif to weep customs knowledge is pawned.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive             1430
          tired in a small circle, it is *

          Is it, that your days are busy, full..?
          Only you, know where they may take you.
          I do not, know mine, where they lead me.
          I do not complain...I...must..
          steal this, that it is, all I am, from, it
          is so confused, by it all.
          It is all because of.....it is....it is just...you.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                 1431
          tired scared pregnant

          I am to tired and
          scared it is you.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1432
          Titanic

          Great is,
          last blue harvest.,
          hard, true, now gone.
          Diamonds.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1433
          to a sod, loved in Italy

          She kicks me, I don't mind
          it is not hard a doves tap.
          I roll over on to the gondola, the
          shine from the wood has me rise.
          She is turned, I yawn sneaking me winks.
          The profile is sure, smouldering to they
          on the bridge looking down..I bring my
          self closer to her on the ground waters still
          for a swans momenta of chance.
          what a dumb luck of sod am I.....sun shining down on a crown.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                           1434
          to breath java

          The view for the trouble, it is..ok..
          it, tries to guess, always.
          It is winded from the floating hot spots..
          Thermals of death, as the red,
          liquid rock flows around it.
          Bubbles of cool air, usurped
          by silvers yellow mist.
          It is mired, the assent was dangerous,
          so often as not foolish.
          Wood burns upon this ground, when touched,
          touched not, it is the glass and hot air, around it.
          Coast guard is to far away,
          is, buttes thick, in miles of smiles, so
          it has to breath it, while slipping into a parachute.
          It is to sad all the risk was for, cups java.......

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                   1435
          to read to much

          It is best to read more,
          when you are young,
          So your eyes wont fall.

           out!

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1436
          to see her eyes....no understanding

          pale big wide as saucers
          not breathing hearing
          her hitting
          yellow runny standing legs
          grabbing in panic
          so they can give her back
          my judgement attacked is
          by her lawyer
          just for money real world of.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1437
          To you....)       it(..was a big shock...Mr.President

          Finding out that their is a clone of
          Albert Einstein locked away
          thinking his whole world in a sterile jar.
          That their are no aliens..) it(s..we
          who are them..
          Finding out) it(s..not about the money...) it(s..having
          ..U.S...think that) it(..is...after all..) it(s..about control......
          ....not a presumption for or the lack thereof...) it(s..confidence

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                  1438
          toast for mix~

          Early riser equipment gathered
          Boat no hazard safely hitched
          Catching bait for well a trust
          Flying free across the water

          Sun and I heavy poles in hand
          quarter pounder chub of creek
          Massive grouper gathered sea
          Burnt as toast I have my treat

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1439
          today another mental illness day

          Awakened
          realizing I was in shock
          she rolled me over
          did it again are you glad?

          Sad puppy brown hair
          in eye
          fizzled dazzlers
          gelled hair.

          Thorazine soup orange
          juiced
          without a clam
          dipped in language
          you sought it on toast.

          Simpson
          please rest with
          Spector there
          grow old and smile.

          Dreams
          mental illness
          rush through your head
          voice of reason
          I do hold out
          my hand in restraints.

          Rooms
          with no exits
          is many padded cells
          moral in shrink was let go
          unfurled his utterance
          thought us his cows and sheep
          we wept of sleep.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1440
          today, i must breath, in you..

          Pain shutters it ripples warm waves
          every breath a gasp, intercostals, rip
          bone cracks of rails, the cough is now
          bloody...you cower..why? ..never will
          you notice a pale hand once tan and
          strong, gasp, to gasp out your name(I) .
          Dear Queen, I am afraid of the roaches.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive      1441
          touching my gun

          It Is as you know unauthorized
          now can you clean it with oil
          remember check the cylinder
          dont bend the barrel
          dont trust it to anyone else
          dont dropp it
          it has a hair trigger
          it is always loaded
          it shoots no blanks
          it is a weapon always weeping
          it is to be treated with respect
          dont play with loaded guns
          keep it locked up real tight.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1442
          Tourette's life, in their lane

          You find it, am musse-ing, I can tell.
          Verb, verb, verb, do you like action to?
          Blurting out stuff
          that makes even the president blush, my
          mind is secretly
          lost in mound of nouns, squeal, sequel, squeal, fell in the fire
          ash on my face
          to discard as it will, help me, help me.
          No mercy I hear for the week.
          The doctor says we blurt out the psycotic fears of anyone when they are near, living
          breathing empathic erotic sceptic mirrors of the others darkest fears.
          Dali I have eaten their sins, now save me.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                                  1443
          Trade This For That

          Hearing you it is that I am,
          Is it that you are for me?
          Is it that you would but
          you can't?
          It is all I can do to ask it
          of you.
          It is but a word from you.
          Is it to much to ask of you?
          Please tell me now it is forever
          more and a day for you it will wait.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1444
          Treason

          Sitting here shaking like a junkie
          quivering not of passion thinking
          am I fine.
          Fleeting are the wits of survival
          assault in view of god witness
          of mind body and soul.
          Words of rote etched in soul.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1445
          tremble, stutter, sweat, passout

          Clutched is
          his hand a
          torn napkin
          that said.
          I LOVE YOU.
          under your
          foot blown
          in with the
          winds, off.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1446
          tric apart my art

          you would carry me, upon your heads,
          deposit my belongings,
          on that wooden scared, apron scent your stove.
          wait untill the frenchies hear what you have
          planned to do to me, there this loved on buff.
          la dernière fois il a été, j'ai parlé à eux,
          ils m'ont dit que je n'ai pas eu à jouer en
          dehors du bois, où elle meurt empalé sur moi.
          they will come and rescue me, and still she sings
          her song that all you, came to hear.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive               1447
          Tricked Again

          My Lovely,

          Your brazeness cannot distract
          from the fack that your utters are
          ull and need milking as
          i have my own truck
          i will take all
          you have.
          The fire in your forest of trees is so hot
          i rush to your aid with a bucket
          my mouth and my tounge.
          as i curb the path of the flames
          the fire only rages much hotter.
          Your mouth denied for so long canna any longer
          i fear for its safety as well.
          The art of in the curve shape and its swril
          only brings me to flames
          in your rear.
          You are my love your plum do i tast all of
          the year juicyit is the heart
          of my plum
          .As always i fall into you just by your looks
          be my dear..lovingly falling
          forever inside you...) it(s plush..


          ) it(s love..: >) it(s..

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive            1448
          Tricks of the Trade

          Never ask a question unless you need
          to be lied to even it you already know
          the answere.



          (really dry martini dry humor)

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive    1449
          Troll..!

          Rolling laughter fills
          your soul as I groan.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1450
          trust is crust like skin

          It is as little,
          as the rose within your fingers.The tip of
          one thorn, that wells
          out it's dropp of blood,
          on you, so true.
          They dripp as a search is made for the vase, in water
          at once cool and such it's stem grows bright and green.
          Does not it trust you to bring back the scent of all that is
          again?
          The kitchen is warm, the oven hotter, the flesh within those
          doors is potted, in trust, a must for who?
          Upon your plate it's made and laid so golden brown, in
          trust a must is once again your hand, it's you
          it watches upon that skin.
          It sits so cutely, a hope in prayer, in etiquette you trust,
          your dictated yes a must, it hopes the skin from the barn
          yard hen
          you do not peal from the flashy, it is the best part......
          Most are to hungry to argue..a stomach is such to you..

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                          1451
          Try To Understand

          My thoughts run away to hide
          seeing rocks I turn them over
          to find pleasures discarded.

          Sand untouched but by a breeze
          rooms forever I hide in of them
          waiting for you to show and speak.

          Great is an ants queen workers
          needs of the few having many
          pleasure is an art never found.

          Thinking on these words on all the pins
          infinite are the pins words run out
          ink can dry all the tears carried from.

          Water can be hot the sun can be cold
          pondering thoughts forgiving souls
          blameless feet always marching on.

          The burning mind is never without pain
          the flesh is on fire like those in the forest
          trees of the soul growing never sleeping.

          Fumes of life bare the scent of greatness
          humility fumbles at my feet never lost
          wearing shoes of all those who came before.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive           1452
          Try to understand a little more

          The accident that changed my life
          begins to fade it changed more
          than that.
          My brain has never stopped hurting
          when people hurt me now and feeling
          over whelmed it hurts so bad
          I'm nearly blind.
          Not telling anyone is just as bad the
          sadness that I feel inside unwraps
          my soul.
          Some of these around me now would
          if they new of this to play this mind along
          a river diamonds sharp
          with reams of fear.
          Three tons hitting me does more than
          quash.
          My brain is cheese

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive         1453
          Try To Understand a little more than that

          Brain injuries aren't over come
          they are dealt with
          by the keeper of the flame of
          living pain.
          Twitches jerks people wondering
          if you are an epileptic
          not on meds.
          Knowing thier is something terribly
          wrong never the same can't
          explain how you
          feel at all.
          Learning every thing over and over
          again is real fun.
          What is the most shameful is people
          thinking ~judgmentally as my dad put it~
          what a nice looking young person
          to bad hes slow..lol..slow..
          Hanible ate part of my train...lol

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive       1454
          Try To Understand a little more than that Today

          Fresh day fresher thoughts unwind
          grasp it now feelings proffered new.
          Passes made in haste understand
          differences take a little more wine.
          Meaning clear to only one at a time
          trees breezes fish's to be caught.
          Lovers never give away positions
          positions give away all the lovers.
          Breath waits poised buzzing bee.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive             1455
          Tuna

          Not on a day like today.
          The mayonnaise is, ripe.
          Even the bread is soggy.
          The relish is moving, out.
          For a dip, on the beach.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1456
          tuna is still good

          I will continue,
          still to eat in it.
          Wallow as large
          walrus that I am.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1457
          Turning Heads

          Smooth flair hips she does...bear....all is natural in skirt...mounded shirt oear
          pears...two would make.very fine....hair fasionably mained...face some what
          tanned...on the take...ponds frozen ice....skaters friend....she..does grins.. lets make
          nice....milk do I drink...not from a cow...L.A..vine..hollywood makes you blind..very
          fine.. have more wine..rounded calves snaking...up to.. moist pit.....do I stop... for
          more...gas in her tank...cheeks so sweat... that they melt... on your...lague..so does
          her... story end my friend...for life and 1...day

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                                      1458
          turrets piece a lost work

          Verb it is you and the verb
          in you verb verb verb verb
          hanging by a verb verb verb
          nouncy nonce noun noun
          prep me prep me adjective
          additive verb conjunctive verb
          dont'quit don't quit..stop oohhh.
          officer officer lawyer attorney
          judge fire me fire me verb verb.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1459
          tutored tortured mind

          It is like watching TV, fifty different channels
          rolled into one, excited an utterance was is.
          Contently, amazed at the way, you twist the
          wind of breath, your tongue, string wiggling.
          I hide, your eyes diffrent hue when I sleep is
          then awake the rake in Moulin Rouge, was
          happy scoundrel, stone of Braille's story lines.
          Your lines more than dare the mind, they
          cross a time of different days, lost, gone.
          You were taught by one not of me, you do like
          the edge of space, the cut of razors mouth
          more than your cheeks, you bleed me out.
          Arms of your chair, grip you tight, the colors
          left you *sigh*come back in, from the rain.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive              1460
          twin cheeks, one rose

          Two cup them, in your hands
          is to kiss the very petals, of life.
          No scent, can compete, is rose.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1461
          Twisted Sisters, Jar of clay

          So, do you think he can cook,
          inside of the jar like you can?
          Math, is quantum digressed,
          when bent from the hole.
          Mutable cookies, pressed flat,
          spiral out, to unfold, within..
          Carbon jars, hold what you are told?
          Darkest chip in the center, fingers all grasp, when cold?

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                       1462
          Twisting on a string

          Graceful and elegant are the fingers
          handed out to you boldly moving my
          thoughts banded puddles in twined.

          Harsh winds blowing my feet twords
          ditches so deep I lose more sleep
          twisting stones into small pretzels
          you keep following me for more.

          Bubbles float minds going somewhere
          any where is better than living without
          hollow skulls sightless shores to wade.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive     1463
          two

          Iss willing to walk, as
          is one into black hole.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1464
          two cowards

          It is afraid, so is it's
          other and glad of it.

          Six non redundant swords,
          that cut deep, so rivers flow.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1465
          two dates same race

          He couldn't do it any more,
          light is fast, he was faster,
          fast as that once speeding smile, it razed..
          So yes,
          I excepted her offer, you knew he saw you,
          the other you knew as well,
          being related to each other,
          and kept it from him as he saddled
          you both at the creek.
          Two fine horses, that won many races, all for you.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                1466
          Two Masks

          Layered every line in place
          tears of joy loves your face.
          Trepidation knows station
          as timid fawn with mother.

          Saluting pink coral shadow
          playing in silk stay hallowed.
          Honored home ways paved
          savoring paths this moment.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1467
          Two Tias

          Twice hooked
          lost is the tuna.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1468
          Two Timein Spouse

          Excuse me sir.

          Are you the one I caught in bed with my wife?
          I ask only to be polite, as I write words to feed her..
          Yes I know it is her fault but her brother is a divorce atty..
          and I kinda like pretending I am a farmer..you know
          farmer in the dell..well any way see you in surgery.
          Hello hello: Nurse reverse gender kit.....make it two
          we want it deep..make Jock cusmoe proud...) it(s
          a sick world we live in and some one has to do what
          you won't...Every time my wife cheats I enlarge twin
          peaks...hush now..your husband would hire me to
          do a reversal on you to if he catches you cheating.
          Doctor: you forgot to take the other parts off...no I
          didn't....now when he she gets the urge she he can
          go --) it(self.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                            1469
          u can keep the peanuts

          Verb, verb, verb you hurt my nouns
          making me trust the tics, tremor is.
          I need you, blind are my days, without
          dark notes, beating breasts, in haste.
          Fingers, twirl within, kneading my mind
          to, into your fire, painfull are the eggs.
          Will you come back for your chickens,
          I will feed them the peanuts, with you.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive        1470
          u r a pop Quiz

          My fellow Ameri-Can sods
          you can do it, head ack-es
          hurt, to get your pride back.
          First any cost, God save me.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1471
          u, ..'..'snivels

          Did not even try.
          You talked about it,
          no disrespect, you
          did not go past talk.
          You knew,
          I am damaged, hurt, hidding
          along time.
          I am ashamed of all of u.
          You did not even try.
          Will you try now, or talk
          some more?

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1472
          Unchain..me..from..your..wall

          Blessed is her hand that holds the key
          the lock is heavy on my neck.
          Blessed is her other hand as well.
          All her dirty little secrets forced by she
          inside of me thee they dwell.
          She never blushes at the deeds mind
          stays focused all the time upon loyal
          slave her dog.
          Loves her slave and loyal dog.
          The rack of groans her pretty elfin ears
          retain as she grows hard from all the
          pain....dirty little secret does come closer
          ever closer not yet out.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive          1473
          under a rock

          It is bright
          heavy sound
          running feet
          towards away
          who can say.

          The quietened step
          of you
          ears of mine
          hear
          revelation confused is
          looking.

          I understand you
          saying
          missing conveying
          understanding missed
          arrows heart when pierced.

          Calling do I
          dare
          I do
          bending you gather
          rocky soil
          all
          into you crying
          me asleep with you.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1474
          Under Speed

          Minimal wake is made
          ) It(is getting late
          Looks like an hourglass


          ) it(

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1475
          under the weathers again

          My plate is always out side, full of bread.
          I should stop feeding grain to those pigeons.
          I must have gallons of the stuff, what is it's
          use in the city?
          Why take the bread away, they just keep
          picking at there own guano's any way.
          The dry cleaners dont eat pigeons either.
          So the threat of the other white rain, is lost
          in the soup, of the telly.Weather man.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive            1476
          under your, weathers

          You smothered it,
          with you, in hopes.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1477
          Understanding Folding Lines

          Second skins are the thoughts combined
          when a mind perceives things awkwardly
          taking a first look to dismiss a commonality
          found deep with in the self.
          Dismissing your self because you are taught
          your conformance becomes individuality
          is said to work for the whole
          not the self.
          Many here they speak of loss and pain
          some times both.
          The spark of me to gain in others shame
          they see it not.
          Does a truth deceive a lie? ..lost to find
          in help...define..?
          Yet a blazing truth goes home dismissed
          hindering loves lotus nest to grow..........
          deceived of even a day.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive          1478
          Uninterrupted Thought..Not Bought

          Filaments of dendrites petals flowing
          scent beneath your humming brow
          I smell the burning mind a
          hollow shell.
          Riding ropes of swinging thoughts
          I dance from mountain tops your
          chest I peak while milking
          all I can leaving not
          a dropp.
          Hollow is the cleft you let me see I
          gathered honey from your bees
          to spread across your
          pink fat lips.
          Flipping pages banded books thining
          layered no mistake I touch your
          burning bush I groan in pain.
          Mountain bridge hard back trail lost
          unwinding visions eagles seem to
          know the way you guide me
          home within your soul.
          Bracing fall of angels harps the lute a
          sound so soft you strain to gather
          hair of mine I lost my grip
          to play this tune.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive     1479
          unknown

          It is not a word to touch an emotion in thought
          I cannot smell the taste you hear love the heart
          laid bare unknown.
          Is it a word not known defined soft hand hard to
          find.
          It is not water air earths fire fine line unknown
          in most not all.
          It is wrapped around cores of light peeled away
          tops end never found unknown.
          It is unknown in breath unknown in flight be it unknown
          sight given mind to guide the last soul home unknown.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                     1480
          uNlaWFuL acT

          Upon a state, elsewhere my mind was
          untoward you not,
          is it a one eyed jack? ..wearing in you,
          this marsh cool evincing stay, ..I can but
          ask....impressions ground cups you so..
          The hollow oak around, no sound pours
          forth, small wing of leaves on skin is hair.
          I lay gazing up, where am I, why am I here.
          I answered because, only was it she, who
          called me, nothing by this can I gain, it rains.
          Presume long since, barley can I stand, dropps
          cast off, wary silence never was ashamed to harm
          in making her wants guide my hand she grabs
          the sword plunging it deep, thrusting it home
          her body loses nothing, mine is all but done.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive              1481
          unlimited mind

          Once Aware harnessed
          enlightenment
          resulting
          Inward directional growth.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1482
          unlimited mind underwhelmed

          Seeing you miss the mark
          the pinto you parked in my
          yard was towed
          to the foot of my bed
          where it bays.
          Swiveled is a neck that creaks
          when the joy is quashed by Larry
          curly and Moe for just
          one thin dime.
          lays pause to my heart
          knowing the fields that you have
          may lay shallow and grey
          taking your toys all away.
          Swiveled is a neck that cannot
          swivel properly best your chair
          where your gluts pause for breath.
          When being indentured for life
          causes you strife
          pick a phone I will care and
          deliver your chow with a bow.
          Meals on wheels
          did I not give you an extra meal this morning...?

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive               1483
          Unnarrowing my narrow mind

          Plucked ember this flight
          is journey self less with
          life song dance
          is listen watch to
          infinities edge
          color description
          words less sound filled
          mind is bursting always
          sliding up am I is in all threads.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1484
          unspent it is released

          I sit
          dazed
          trying to put
          her best
          honey
          back into my
          bee.
          While she laughs
          arranging
          a sting.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1485
          Unus Atrum Niger Nox noctis

          Tunc vos may adveho.
          Adveho vos may per
          tergum ianua tunc vos
          must licentia velociter
          per frons.
          Vos must dico nemo.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1486
          Unwrapped Mind Erupted

          Dusty thoughts, mindful days, everyone
          does play.
          Classrooms sun, steamy room, waiting
          there for you.
          Flowers bloom, thunder fumes, laughter
          lunch is done.
          Habits form in shifting sight, purple skin,
          those chubby fingers do so bite.
          Feet with wings, shoes to tight, leading to
          a pond in sight, so cool.
          Socks come off, fish fall out, always knew
          such breath a mint for you.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive         1487
          Upper Crust Bread

          The loaf still warm no crust can be found
          this morn.
          Perfectly round molded for a purpose
          in) it(soul.
          No pride in bread would fear instead
          peoples goal.
          First slice the bread before) it(sent
          across river styx.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive       1488
          Uppity

          Without the squeegey
          last seen on the table.
          I cannot ascertain to the validity
          of her statement.
          If she sprays rain-x continuously
          on the windshield.
          She might not be safe to drive me.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1489
          upside down rightside up cake pie...

          She flies
          from every direction
          upside down rightside up inbetween
          ridges of lows and highs..
          she flies straight from the mouth
          through her bent lip
          is she high in the sky
          scrapping ground with her thighs
          cakes with no strawberries
          I cannot abide deep inside
          of a mind wandering around this small globe
          we call home.




          Dedicated
          to a pair of
          scissors..
          without ands

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive         1490
          ur, bff said..

          Wake up, sleepy head, dreaming, always dreaming..
          The wine wuz to strong, i have stained you.
          Grapes, wash leaves, stagger under the weight, your
          hand, prunes the stem of faith..
          His land bears, grain and oats to feed the children...
          The pipe from under, which you, gasp for air...it...is...to..
          flow with the wine, you have chosen, clever if not wisely...

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                           1491
          Use Of Force

          I have been ordered to take you by force
          non-lethal the choice is mine, understand.

          I see you, but I don't, slick as snot you wont
          get away, you can't, please last chance it is.

          Alpha, Bravo, Charlie clear is the boat, son.
          Tango, Delta assigning an alias drill, Sargent
          of arms if she harms the order is shoot one thrill.

          If she crumples at your feet, she will be honorary
          nice and neat her body stacked on cotton sheet.

          If she resists an order, unplug her honor, let her
          take one for the crown, make it big, questionable.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                 1492
          uSweet of Honey

          Catacombs of sweetness of your
          finger lays the the rushing river
          of your love.
          Wine skin of your mouth to know
          the smoothness taught of
          belly grows
          the leaking of a faucet never fixed.
          Face in chest silenced lust to lay
          aside my roaming days.
          In fields of clover soft and sweet the
          bees in it do make the
          honey flow.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive    1493
          vacation is her vocation

          Trembling never still, on her picture
          a reel, here I watch.In love she worked so hard, like corn
          bread and milk, as sweet as her blush.
          The flax is no longer yellow, the warm sun of time has left
          me, my musk has long since faded, indiscernible.
          I sit on a boulder, in the middle of the Suwanee river, springs
          are white much to rapid.
          The shoals like my hair near white, never still.
          The corn sweet is much to husky.
          A cob once full, smothered in taste, has long flown away.
          Royal blue has colored the sky, inside her skin.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                             1494
          Vagrant Thoughts

          Will arrest you take you home with me
          you do things you should not do for fun
          loving life you do them all the time.
          I only suggested you do these little things
          am I the one to take the blame I thought
          you would help me take your garbage out.
          Vagrant is your hand in side my thoughts.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive         1495
          very tasty

          treating myself lovingly
          boiling lots of hot water
          ambrosia resplendent
          crabs put into water

          cleaned hard bodies
          melting some butter
          tongue rolled flesh
          mouths safe harbor

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1496
          vested rights in you

          Rights of man woman
          mine as are in yours
          be they worded verbed
          pluerl nouned of you.

          Vines wither slate of grey
          keys mouths view
          rights trail gathering
          momentum mind seeds.

          Delete that which it is
          delet that is it of you
          answered frivolous
          prejudiced the summit.

          Winter dims man woman
          right engage diplomacy
          pieces with mouths seek
          what it is holy to them.

          Power of root golden eggs
          nests of such is bare
          wandering mind once lost
          in that speaks now found.

          Heavy is the spear the poet
          soldier sheaths in mound
          wander no longer element
          truths rights in heavy long
          engagement bears roots.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1497
          Viscosity

          Intertwined all man kind humming
          of the V.
          Twirls curls branchs randsom free
          comming of the leaf.
          Sap is fine with some wine but from
          the fruit so sweet.
          Beautiy rests with the beast boldly go
          no boundries all
          do know.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive    1498
          Voids Sleep In Rapture

          Walking waking dream cowards
          scream of night
          void less formless timeless forever
          therein no key
          all eternity afraid there you roam
          with out eyes you don't need something
          else for the one whom you know
          to take from you
          squish as) it(sweet plums of your
          youth o ears cannot hear the
          unknown till its here..

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive    1499
          Waiting

          I Waited three years I waited
          the first two and one half years
          in self induced protective
          coma you laugh.
          I am still alive.
          How I don't know I have been dead
          before the doctor with
          his tricks fancy hooks in me.
          I don't know except I was dead and
          this time I saved my own life..
          A fraction of what I once was.
          I am known to you all.
          I am you.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1500
          Wake Me Not Again

          Waken me again slumber my name
          would keep from you
          who call in vain.
          Against my better wishes wind
          does stir a tempest
          pool of food.
          Kelp of shore the sand mixed in
          for fruit this soul
          does trust.
          Epiphany resting souls to flee the
          oceans call to
          honor me.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1501
          Walk On A Beach

          As I was walking down the beach the waves were making work.
          A storm had the night before, passed by.The sea birds were out in full force, food was
          across thier table. Crabs of size scalops and clams starfish and all that is alive within
          the guff I did see.Franticly with great hast a coridore we made as we tossed as much
          as we could back into the guff Eventually fatigue over came our attempt after hundreds
          of pounds of all that we saw had new life once again to all whom we know such a gift
          to them as well..Yes I must add some think me capable of anything.they are right
          there is nothing I wont attempt in this life nothing bad..

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                                 1502
          Walking Lonely Miles

          Strait away paths hedges prick
          leaving steps behind I count.
          Level flat stones catch wind
          of your preferred years.
          Afternoon can pause moments
          hold on time to a stagnant day.
          Weather folds clouds daisies
          bring unwanted sniffles breeze.
          Breath caught shoulders bowed
          honored days lost in the dawn.
          Befuddled temples Salmon grey
          something about strange words.
          Whispers hauntingly wrap lost in
          ground ageing hands gold sword.
          Books white bound bloody pictures
          dust the pages silver press prints.
          Knowing not halls of strange stone
          mounting faces stitched together.
          Miles of walking strangers together.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1503
          Walking On sun

          Buda I dream silver thread to my being
          singing light you sleep.
          On your feathery face i ride a river that
          is your tear down this cheek.
          Angels dance with me on the sun keeping
          time to the start.
          Twisting in merths after glow.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive       1504
          warm oil

          Fleshed Hot
          inscensed
          inflamed now
          insane...........

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1505
          Washed in me was to sea

          Lifting waves cups hand
          foaming tops shrouded
          bathed colors of blue tea
          drinking life from endless
          struck in bowls filled feet.

          Take my last look for me
          spots dance in leopard
          tide running moonless to
          smiling sun washed sand.

          Land lock stocked a heart
          chested with key in you
          sailed shores linnen white
          to breath in lungs refuge.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1506
          wasting insanities time

          Sleep bellows oaring it's head wank tongues wag
          scallies don hats jumping rides to mooning cows.
          Pleasures milking mind feeble thought persuading
          enfranchised cornless room to wiggle harsh verbs.
          Mind poet few is harm to it is it said to be true you.
          shot hooked shell crust of slime skinned much time
          sleepless where I am at shaking hands lost sanity.
          Sleeping awake brings up sun different view days
          singularly playing catch bully balls man with softened
          stained horn thinks it norm patting buts gay pheasant.
          Lip less swine defined hams rump pleasant ever song
          laying on pork chops lap instead spears lance short
          rib lathered foaming spit you call lost recipe barbeque.
          Noble it is your tongue to swap adjectives crowned joy.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                      1507
          water colors

          Again i dream, i am an ear
          i swim, into a nest, so softly.
          You pinch the sky, cover me
          blankets, as color, trans flex's.
          Middle, of this stream, trouts
          color digitise, to is pink foam.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1508
          water on rock

          Hightenend driven anticipation
          soft melodious voices
          sea
          dark heavy shores
          sleeping water beded on rock.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1509
          Waves, Bullocks

          Always late, cutting rope untied
          a vast ocean bullocks, fore, aft.
          They block my horizon, moved by
          smallness, motions foe will gain.
          Today, I ride with the shark, as it
          swims while the monsters sleep
          mountains of waves wash over us.
          Moving, to avoid the smile wasted
          on the other, flashed in white teeth.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1510
          we are stuck front to front

          Love forever love together
          sweet breaths single heave
          departs two backs in air.
          Hair wave passion grip
          strains red hazed mind
          lips drinking flowing wine.
          Tulip tipped moaning river
          hand to gland save the milk
          gallons count most days.
          Crazy metal liquid powder
          smell of peach leg covers
          moon full halves to eat.
          Sreaming sweaty heady
          swirling eddys pool your
          eyes with tears found joy.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1511
          we dont mind that you are single

          My three wives
          conjoined triplets
          are the only people
          lost on this island.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1512
          we found her

          The lights were bright, our hearts were off
          the mind is a tragedy, calling warnings angle.
          It took weeks to find all the parts, three were
          missing, the neighborhood donated the rest into.
          The masks now are of any thing, as is her hair now
          the curls are permeated, scalped, same less not is.
          You smell like our last life that ended the same
          running from the future, now stuck in our past, clue less.
          The spare parts, are from the same famous woman,
          breast less, holding out for a new continuum twin peaked.
          Washing the pillows over, and over, again stuck inside.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                        1513
          We Should All Lift Our Legs

          Giving free gas to all the corrupt showing
          as only a true fellow human beings can
          in laying our pipe in their free land for tea
          as friends do.
          They do deserve their bonuses lay them
          down in beds of coal
          while applying great pressure and as they
          turn to diamonds let them appreciate
          their true worth
          as we spend it on more beans.
          Meanwhile back at the ranch they are eating
          my weatherstrip...
          Mr.Colbert made me say this..

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive           1514
          we travel on

          The anticipation of flowers
          unseen moving her along the
          path of smells hidden inside
          mother earth her early morning
          light of trees bending brushing
          the ground with her finger the
          leaves of hair hidding nothing
          from view of a ghost flowing
          softly treading the path the
          whisper of her slow steps in
          desirable fashion to the trail
          as green ferns lean in to kiss
          her moving calves slowing to
          lovingly cup the flower who's
          glory of women hood had
          matured the night before
          tears welling at the corner
          of her eyes dreading the
          thought of what was once
          the great glory in her life.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1515
          we, will! meet...again..

          As ant's,
          We push so hard, from the front,
          we just have to meet, at the rear.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1516
          weeping butterfly

          Time stands still as colored powder
          marks a flowers birth a sunny spring.

          Moving air their brushing tail the tear
          upon your cheek the tiny feet did hear.

          Purple diamond hearts upon soft wings
          clutching loves tiny chest your salty tears.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive          1517
          Weight Of Words

          Many are the words that bind shocking Your gaze so did find if they bring crimson to
          your clover then your fields are long shallow to the grower of that which i speak lerned
          from thee quick is the jack in the box fox though he be canna be proud of you toutor
          she of the scott was my mutter of the other one i am not proud is the blood in vein
          wearther all storms my way live forever and 1 day may i say under you year think of
          that could you would smile on your face i do see deny this not scale of the word is
          larger than your world recipricate you find long lost bird king of the wind bring him
          home nail down my words no you canna put in an envelope will you push to the sides
          never break through the top know such find think to the other long is the word short is
          your time forever and 1 day will they stay answere that in the mirror you gaze...Peace:
          : >>) it(

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                                1518
          well' acually, most humble sir,

          If it wer'nt for the handle
          how would you grippe it.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1519
          Well I don't Have That But I have This

          I found an old letter it is very long
          it sounded nice I threw it away.
          You know the boring think every
          thing out ahead of time talk your
          socks offin you.
          Parrots like myself can learn any
          language manner and customs
          by simply listening to you breath.
          I can parallel park in the smallest
          places I let you drive the forest.
          I canna speak the words I'm so
          preoccupied with sun and moon
          waves and sand eyes on queen
          don't sting show me the honey.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive    1520
          well i love you so take this

          Freeing the words they flow
          seeing them you part your
          tender lips tasting them you
          roll them off your tongue to
          swallow the new passions
          cry for help struggling to stay
          at the top of your throat just
          to beg in vein matching color
          to sweet in description defied
          the words transgression inside
          the mouth once more diving from
          the tongue through your lips and
          back into my mouth as if it were all
          a dream you never intended to start.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1521
          Well of wealth

          Time of you it is vacant
          leaking to cracks
          hollow in dust
          floats lips service with
          paper a raft
          holding words in leaves.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1522
          well~help~ me ~up

          the floor is not a good place to spend
          the night in a castle it is colder than the
          rock hard arrow head golden pink hued
          auerolis of she whom put me here.
          i am available ladies..for now..: >) it(s loviliy..: >you :)

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                          1523
          What do You Think

          Of the message inside drifting clouds
          do pass them by hunter words all
          hurd telling me what is to come
          of events shaped in that
          bottle in past.
          Hearing
          Explaining
          listening
          past...

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1524
          What Is In Your Mellon?

          Smooth up the hill dump truck reversed
          trick of the grey beside some road full
          of holes in hopes the cup o noodles it's
          end for a brighter tomorrow we start.
          Dipping one spoon to many tasting a
          thought of common since that threads
          needles all saw that fled from greed
          was the melon imputed to us all?
          Annoying the exciters whom bloated in
          salt melons full of rare air still don't float.
          What is it that you have dripping from your chin?

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive               1525
          what is pen in dream

          You clutch your law, unto your self,
          wrapped in safeties drug, of cloak.
          It is what you have striven for these
          long hard years?
          Bridge, benches bars that slide,
          yards of mantled weighty,
          picture topped with garland purples,
          olden hold, pen erases laid, in sword.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive    1526
          what of it is and then is it

          Two was it, is it all that we are left
          Two stanzas a curse leaving gone
          back to you? ..I run towards my open
          hand counting a shadows fingers to
          be seen not touched, my own, not by
          me.
          Shadowless sun creeping hot again
          knowing a tree in shadow councils in
          all, exposing only edges ragged gapes
          of light where reality does excite with.

          It is good it is bad directionals shadow
          tells all is secreted unveiled faces willowy
          slender as waist of evergreen it is scented.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive          1527
          What Say you

          Now will be the morrow none to soon
          fleeting thought in hand a palm
          bright moon.
          Outside thin shelled mellon much ado
          noting brand of nature
          that is you.
          Terror freed to roam outside to sooth a
          fleeting color bowed to
          much construed.
          Heavy cheeked a twin atached aback
          your mirror cracked when you
          sighed track.
          Instead last laugh prior dread released
          the need to seed that fallow ground
          upon your stead.
          Nothing lost was just a gain for me the
          need to feel the pulse of one
          that walks in you.
          Grafting limb to find sweet fruit the flowers
          bloom upon a face inside the mind
          I find once you.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive           1528
          What To Do What To Do

          Fritter away the dawn knew day.find all one can chew
          double meaning why use one word
          do 2 twice as much comes to you.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                  1529
          what to do with it

          Some of it is....changed only by it's other still
          stilled frame same is diffrent hue
          the moon darkies side washes tide
          turning the world on it's side still shutters
          most smiles
          flashes of brilliance morns dawn is early
          for most
          sipping his wine.
          Pictures face altered in you clock is rotated
          youth frames a gaze
          holding hands eyes pan
          sets Victorian goth
          sun is alight on
          history past by the nights changing
          guard stars can speak
          into your black box
          of tears.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive               1530
          What Use Of Voice

          Without tounge to speak it
          useless is the eye with no
          mind to see it
          the pen no hand to weid it...) it(
          a hand with no pen..

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1531
          What would you Say?

          Is it true? All that they say about you.Yet you knew,
          no blues, hiked up shirt feeling pert.
          Traded places slow pace a hand that grew moist
          favored shirt that I wear to read.
          It is true, what it is that they say about you never
          playing the part that you love beating heart
          which pounds in the palm of my hand saving
          softness of memory in space of the page having
          shed velvet cheese pound or two misconstrued guilt
          in thought that you choose.
          Admit it is what you knew, is it true?

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                   1532
          When Dawn Came

          It came with subtle nudges and whispers
          rolling over onto its self became.
          The trembling of the ages eruptions such
          passion hues of blinding
          ribboned light.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive      1533
          when fish smelled like cinnamon

          Being, it's just,
          delirious tuna.
          I just know,
          there are millions of plates waiting,
          how does it,
          make the wait forever and a day,
          being hungry?
          It chases the tuna, being human,
          hungry for tuna,
          it smells cinnamon,
          disguised as tuna in keep.
          Thy keep is oh hand, it opens, slowly forever
          and it's spray.
          The waves foam, the beach moans, the
          sands are mined, every thing smells sharp, ly is.
          It's eyes deceived, it stores meager it wanders,
          forever to fish, one vast ocean is this woman,
          of dubious cinnamon origin.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive               1534
          when I am reborn

          A fine soft leather glove of weave
          from heaven to grace both fine
          hands of silk such is vain it glows.
          To wealth I know discarded now to
          grow with the rest a pile that weeps
          lost tears much joy.
          To poor though worthy soul in your
          hand would grace the cup to keep
          such heart can never afford such
          comfort so.
          Wish it may wish is might the cloudy
          sky the star dims light breaths sight.
          Piano wood grand tunes to play the
          songs I would teach forever and a
          day stands out the key so right my
          stool to cup you tight in loves embrace.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive      1535
          when i came to eat at your house

          not knowing what to expect i
          brought back key to the lock
          shoes off at the pantry scanty
          trusty can opener for tin of tuna

          hurridly time in essance near I
          opened the tin bread was thin
          sliced dice tuna nice cupo rice
          waited on you and saved your life



          real story

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1536
          When I Fell Off Of Your Tounge

          I   was not bitter about it was I
          I   know I was not sour or was I
          I   am sweet it is that I know I am
          I   am your memory of all you eat
          I   am the only eye you have left
          I   am hidden in all your drawers
          I   am in the water that you drink
          I   last saw you when...................

          When I Fell Off Of Your Tongue
          ............) it(s..a..long..way..down

          ..Don't weep...I know..your tongue
          ..rolls up and tries to flee down
          your neck..) it(s.. gastly..face..cyanotic..blue

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive              1537
          When i last came to eat at your house

          The face I kept was strait
          those beans of fame.
          Cuddly and cute they grew
          apart lost art found game.
          Rippled sweat a stomachs
          moving inner cordless wave.
          Barrels buckets weaving so
          heaving wave my boat a sea.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1538
          when i last talked to god

          she ask ed it,
          dressed in green and white,
          escorting it away,
          cloths taken,
           then left in a cage of class.
          Why wont you forgive her?
          It thought, like it had,
          through out all time...
          she, knows not, what she did...
          what is id, in there to forgive.....

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1539
          when I was tall I was still very small

          Knowing this world was thought up
          didnt make me any less aware than
          I am so trust me you must be as well.
          Traveling inward you discover a lot of
          stuff is missing realizing others
          had discovered
          things about you
          thinking about this you go to the store
          looking for them
          wondering about your role in the grand
          scheme of things.
          No intelligent design a big bang how do you
          think you got here.
          Unique it is that you are not putting out the
          trash that is in the end like all the rest
          another forest of trees with fleas.
          Can you say whatever backwards at all huh...
          then stop saying it..it is retarded...be original
          Their is no market in the real world for a
          cerbrealcortexless person selling
          lemonade
          from some new found drawers that leak.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive               1540
          when love lies bleeding

          Most like to wipes it, is on some thing,
          other than it's selve, sore thigh your yet
          Instead it, is
          it's blood upon you float, not touching.
          It's stain is it, upon the air, around it.
          When you, it's color changes, it
          is, it's robes, gold then melts the heart
          of quicksilver, this river to sun is run,
          when tips of lead it knew, has Bloom's.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive        1541
          When Mamma Threw Me From The Train

          Hush dispersed in hum with clank of rail.
          Tail in toe such babe with massive head.
          Large Odey eyes exculpation to the court
          it ruled.
          Chasing clouds within a cup washed ink.
          Floating on sweet fumes so lost in sleep.
          Leaving mum in tunnel rail she cought today

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive         1542
          When men rode poles

          Climbing to the top of
          sweet gum trees riding
          them down from the top
          to hear them break and scream.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1543
          When Some See)              it(Others Do Not

          Others can not will not have not
          that is not the lot I choose.

          Explaining to the sky egales fly
          perfect eye words written to
          the few whom see.

          Grasping air the wings of care to
          struggle in the sky so high
          in safty there.

          May I talon crasp the color of your hair
          and softly comb the fear of sorrow
          with my every care.

          Having life while I may, such wave of wings
          the clouds will bring the very breath
          of air so sweet to you.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive          1544
          when teacher is not looking

          My aeroplane
          does not have insurance
          do not bleed on the tip
          give it back..yea, o.k.
          I will talk to your mum is she
          the blond utters filigreed.?
          Sue and Jane ohhh you two
          are in so much...turn on the
          lite....git offin me...ohh..you
          o.k...no I definitely don't want
          to talk to your mum...no..no..ok
          I will git back down, hurry, hurry...
          this is it..teach will come back
          you have taken the blame to
          often as it is..what about your sister....?

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive         1545
          When the rain fell up

          Cherry trees bloom for me daynight
          dawndusk upside down hanging up
          being kind in the land of missed sun
          going down all here saw rain flow up.



          For she is white and black.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1546
          when u, cry.....

          Washed, Is it yellow...are they still?
          Do the stains, lay in mounting....frustration?
          They are not from the pink flying pig.
          They cannot be pearls..
          It is, some thing else at your feet.......
          To fix your wing....I can but try.....

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive            1547
          when women were wicked and men still supported it

          It was not out of any disrespect, of
          it was usaly because the familiars,
          rejected them selves.
          So he puts on Rabi tears, dances to your plums,
          and it makes a great picture, when he's not trying
          to run your local government.
          Then the pellets fall, you know they are not yours,
          do you fun some more, chariots with fire breathing
          yes, yes...you fire him and hire it's sister, you must
          know the other half of it, as is swell..it is can be,
          not your designated driver..
          Roses in bloom, make him swoon,
          it is forever drunk in the trunk there after.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                    1548
          when you get this.....letter of love..an audience

          Dear radiance,

          Lite of my pie..weeping useful charms..creamed
          top..my weight is heavy..the milk flows heavily....
          never stopping..cartons of..your moist special..
          meats were carried away...by damsels..treat.....
          in the..night..pleasures of spirit left me with
          your hand...the dr.smote..naughty..he says that
          you were..to him..he reset..the dragging leg...
          brushed your shrub in the back of our cabin...your
          spring..gushes pink Amway..pure honey..the bees
          are happy..as is the queen..save her soul..she
          stopped by..her carriage was busty..the
          course..i mowed as well..postman hears
          me sob..take care..) it(s..never going to rain..
          .......) it(s...loveingly..loved by..you..

                                              ...) it(s..lost

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                 1549
          when you left me

          It has only been three weeks, since that night.
          Those pills they gave to sleep, worry me aloft.
          Being only two, she has after the first few days,
          learned a strange curtsy, i tremble to feed her.
          The school keeps calling, he wont stop crying.
          One insurance company, will not stop calling, her.
          I stumble, through a nother tomorrow, so still grey.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                  1550
          When You Rush Out

          Quakes shake your soul, cries
          you look for a hold, to any thing.
          Any thing but that,
          which brought you here,
          eyes rolled back,
          to rush out, totaly, in pinks, red, black.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive        1551
          when you, left a rose, a mask to fall

          Crayola said
          creation pink.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1552
          when, the worm, danced no more..

          Dali and I cry,
          Gala, will not.
          She talks to
          worm, worm
          talk is cheep.
          chicken eats
          Dali and I, we
          to listen now
          as the worm
          eats us, and
          paints more.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1553
          where angels sleep

          between your smile
          is to float in un seen.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1554
          Where is the bottom

          Wells do not speak,
          they listen.
          I am still thirsty, I am
          looking through the
          water at me, to you.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1555
          where she sat

          Moving her parts here,
          pushing his there the two
          come together.
          The audience knows,
          they have been graced with sight.
          This night, flash bulbs blind all as lights,
          come and grow in them all.
          Regina sits below,
          the moon splits its halves as each side
          grabs the seat,
          puckered puffs,
          go unseen as she follows up staged.
          The tall brown grass, on stage, as if by
          wind moves, touching gulping turfs beheaded
          tips bowing.
          The two are directed to move as one,
          again they move in sound unseen upon
          within themselves, again they moan so shrill of voice.
          The old wood has given way and as once sage
          it was no more.
          While the two have fallen down below, impaled
          on widened beams, supports of basement
          depths there parts,
          still play to work as if together, on one cue.
          These are lollies waged in sin so gaffe, for you.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                    1556
          while i was

          My trash stacked up, she flew away,
          a bird emboldened found a way the nest is made.
          Dark clouds drag my mind, great waves are grey.
          I slip on the stone, cobbled boot rings, my eyes steal.
          Silly laughter, wenches cup in draughted mouth, play.
          It is late.is it still there, in the park waiying, adventures.
          Rain in step both ways, I leave the dark to crash, clean.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                            1557
          while you slept

          It is you,
          meeting it,
          on the way out of your window,
          last night.
          It is silver, it is you, rushed as pink.
          It is you first in sounds, self hypnotics
          breath asleep.
          It is lower now, rested back to front,
          egoist lowered is into you, chest deep.
          It stirs you, blushed it's you, in is it, is me, as one.
          It cuddles, cups that rush, inward down,
          so silky smooth soft, *smile * it is now, forever touched.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                        1558
          while you, gathered at the river..

          I walked accross, looking for more
          bowls to hide my words, inside of..

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1559
          Whispers

          Deep and calm this night my sleep
          mind at rest in calm.
          Reality's realm tween wake and peace
          in gut I know is real.
          Effortlessly wind whisper blows through
          eye to heart of mind.
          Aperation claims without my bid into
          my dream to steal.
          Marauding surreal this foggy mist a
          room I trapped you in now mine.
          Such is that which tries to stake
          a claim I make now mine

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive     1560
          Whit Undeclared *

          Brain to finger pull that trigger
          if you do it well.
          Brain to tongue why wait to run
          one leg won't get you far.
          Brain to eye no disguise of what
          in there does dwell.
          Brain to heart you know your
          part no harm in that I see.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1561
          who else do you watch

          I know you listen, it is a sickly thing
          but I know you can't help it..after all what is a name
          to die for.
          Nameless in life, death grows lame, I wait.
          You watch, you tickle me with ice cream, watching
          hearing my brain freeze you stop to listen, softer is the flavor
          you said...how...?
          I don't watch you listening,
          my rat that poops has your ear on its back
          my house is one big eye, with you floating in my middle..
          You are defined, I have always known, you are watching
          me hear, with your ear.
          Your pink pig flew in, and ate my rat, leaving more pearls...
          Heaven waits on things, like you, to come around me, again and again...little oink
          pearls

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                                1562
          Who Needs Sleep

          I'll just have to do) it(all over again.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive      1563
          why does she still want to hurt me

          Cloths change old young
          heart full tree decoyed
          to hope
          discriminateless aim
          she covers my blood
          with other
          smaller trees
          drilling through heart beat.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1564
          why even why a y to try

          The y of it..
          Is the sun asking why..why..? ..is it sunn or sunny,
          keeps asking why..heavy is it, without the y in it..still.
          So it shuts the y out of it, even after the why of it
          did ask where does the y go..in pie.. ask Einstein why.
          Make it grow without it, it is fine, it is oak..ok..
          without the y in corn, why argue about it?
          Why it would give it away, without even the y in it,
          is even beyond a y one to the far right of shy..
          I recon, why Bacon a why at all.
          Some come to be, not to be, to lie in one silly y happ of it.
          Why is the try..the y..yea some times...
          the why's with a y make a they of it...why say y..?

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                           1565
          why i drink milk

          As a child it was powdered, lumpy
          tempted, thirsty as all are.
          Powder is not power, missing tips.
          Except in school, just for a nickle
          pooled, three straws in a pint.
          Eye to eye, hurridly, quickly the well
          is dry.
          Mothers are warm, loving, sharing.
          God mothers, to adopt are to loves,
          even fresher, is one rose at sunrise.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive    1566
          why i love, your feet

          They walk across the
          face of god in sleeps.. :)

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1567
          why is it so easy for you

          Simple lay a sentence over mine
          brim topped boxes filled a room.
          Heart beat twines one strand can
          enter two visions to reword the now.
          Last may first cought winged soul
          tear stained bridge dawn looms.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1568
          Why Not Wolves

          Must I cross the night in your arms
          instead of roliki play in the
          shadows light of the moon.
          Tip of fang &#1090; &#1086; &#1084; &#1091; &#1088; &#1088; &#1080;
          &#1086; &#1083; &#1080; &#1089; milk
          I drink on the cuff.
          Barking out pups laugh.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                 1569
          Why The Rush

          Anticipation seen in eye
          so clear.
          Savoring the moment seems
          a year.
          Not moving seems like an
          eternity.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1570
          wife I wept because of you

          Dear Wife,

          The passing three years was nothing compared to the wait
          of eternity's single second now stilled.
          Enter sands wisdom for they will be blown from the mouth a
          protector for whom coverings unsealed flows sound mind.
          Wife of the world pleasures you would taste have tasted
          must still continue so lest a child plain common hold back..?
          Exposed winds chill her soul cross those lips with memories
          dreamt young unequipped doll of your mind false world all have
          now seen can only be kind to your dream.
          Dreams of children soft pillows hold tears blankets warmth
          of hearts beating past the nights sorrows to mornings date
          with butterfly noon fasting the breeze to evening dew.
          The life of a second stretched back unto now it is again now still.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                 1571
          wife when you meat the devil

          I hope you spend all eternity
          knowing you have to have a..B.M...
          but nothing ever comes out but string.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive    1572
          will you ever

          Breath the sand that
          blows from her hand.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1573
          Will you just hurry up and do) it (sadult)

          This is not the way
          to the Ramadan inn.
          I am not your
          average Chaucer
          either.
          I can smell preportyness on you.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive        1574
          Willow is my Tree

          Clutching southing breathing love
          inside of me.
          Asking moaning bringing hair
          to earth.
          Revealing the basking of her
          chair I wear.
          Entering the flame we all call care.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1575
          wind becomes noise

          Voices living on desire
          weaving
          same tongue
          of ear
          word in minds
          line letting
          just one
          read the book different.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1576
          Windows

          winding up the mind to sea, the day of words
          held dear to me.
          I wonder, if any birds gazing down with winged
          great haste this pace, I
          set for me.
          Nothing passed of beauty's word, played out have
          all so ever heard by me, of anything other than
          an expression from an over active
          imagination took the
          wrong path of he.
          Gathered life of sorrows by an army eagles
          unleashed those arrows
          into the sea.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive              1577
          Wings

          Waft on the wind.
          Infuse with breath.
          Negate all gravity.
          Gather loves speed.
          Sipping winds scents.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1578
          winter leaves

          Thin inside a frozen coat of water, three
          green leaves, hug together against, hope.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive       1579
          winter of water

          Haiku winter of water

          Gracefull never ending waves
          Offering love to free the shore
          Deferance inside make us all



          c, e, mcl.~~22.12.08

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1580
          Wisdoms Way Was Wise

          Slightly skewed this mirrored face the mask
          flew through a waiting hand fingers
          clutched some dawn it
          was not you.

          Lay me down gently soul this favor seen face
          will bring a haunting song cloud tops
          roam pictured moon reflection
          wise to you.

          Affronted wisdom laid to long dormant in a
          seedless throng muddy river have
          ask why decerned black
          robe power nigh
          seen true.

          Volumes words latin terms nunc pro tunc
          seems just verbs present future
          make undone a
          dream.

          Excape forever change the past present
          king made to last a future bright
          as nova sun
          we sing.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive          1581
          within a dropp of water

          It is simplistically small
          universally bound
          inside one
          is it you within the rain...?

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1582
          Within Two Beans

          Coco separation white dark both happy
          taste of awarness sleeps on one tounge.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive     1583
          Wolves

          So many lost yet I see
          only two feet stuck up
          above the heads ears
          pent back snarling.
          They roll about on top
          pulled misdirected
          never curious about the
          two six toed feet getting
          away on foot.....

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1584
          Womanly Things

          Cooking is fine shoes as well
          before this party of yours I
          joined did that and more as well
          when you say I do It means a lot
          of that and more
          walk the land and sell it to
          deal with back stabbers untill your blue
          to take plug at you...Women do a lot I know
          yet difference these days all know
          reversal of the roles..after all who makes..
          better beds in which to lay..soft is the dream of sand.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                     1585
          womans page

          Crafted filling a purse
          words to desire
          hearts fired on
          forged anvil
          bending metal swords.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1586
          women and milk

          Before it was) it(,
          it knew milk flowed both ways.
          Does not a few the rail, a one in twenty rivers
          of the world flow north.
          Not always south, into a jug to sea
          an ocean swelled.
          Know then you, the she of grace into a woman
          soft she steps in to his rivers, misty thick,
          soft covered shore in stores on sale today.
          Butter goes with bread, as the oven goes with dough.
          It was on the test last week, with Juliet.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                  1587
          Women Are men Are Women

          Crazy mixed up is this place where
          we do dwell.
          Rich is music passions winged
          flying on a swing.
          Angels trumps singing choirs thus
          dancing on a whim.
          Zoo in which all do play parts
          handed down to them.
          Yellow haze softsymphony conductor
          does enjoy.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1588
          women hate confession

          The habit, is so easily dropped.
          Thus picked, is man's will poor.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1589
          Women of Tranquility

          Paper moon of pink flesh
          grown heady and deep,
          Full bodied yet shinning
          Influencing all women...Graceful in movment..
          Dancing the light away, still always breathing...

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive               1590
          Words Gift To You

          Gather cloth mothers wide in
          wind you know smile of life
          you bring.
          Intuitively hope would bring a
          picture bright our future
          sings in you.
          Found the gifts a smile can
          bring even to
          the lost.
          Treasures of my soul would give
          this sand to all the light it
          holds for you.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1591
          Words not Tears in Fears

          Truthful words know when spoken, strike a cord
          in proper heart, is moral staunched when
          flowing forth, bathed in blood
          draws near.

          Reposed all minds sleeping deep, one door lays open
          of the light, a knob fits palm, your
          hand now be of
          peace to me.

          Under eyeful watch still asking why, deep rivers flow
          colors dreampt, outside all minds, come
          inside and sea.

          Trials of body my bread may eat, blood from flesh some
          do seek, the easing of their guilt,
          pain unto me.

          Having feet of each five toes, can shoes so comfort all,
          each hallowed soul, etched in stars of
          tears an ocean deep.

          Spirt flys ever high looking down ever wide, massed upon
          soft earthen orb in you,
          healing hand of love all need in search of you.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                      1592
          Words You Speak

          Before they leave my mouth such
          sweetness well deserved.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1593
          Words......(Haiku)

          Complicated blind
          Confusing more times than not
          Unfathomable

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1594
          would i have ?

          Turned the other cheek
          for anothers broadside.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1595
          Would if one but knew

          To kiss the blue of sky back
          in your eyes
          weathered hands of grace
          slinder limbs
          such place have always kept
          with you alive.
          Hallowed crown if dimonds hang
          tears that glitter make all blind of
          worth unto your gaze
          head bowed
          Forever masking love for all.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1596
          Would You Know A Taste Bondage

          Speaking in my sleep blackest of sheep
          wool of the soul eyes of pink when ill.
          Lambless heart of proffit drives the hand
          hard chains sweet chest of dreams.

          Your land takes the breath of bread the
          wine it stains the face in halls of shame.
          Garbed in splindid colors fashion pains
          the arm hued muscled touches like'nd mind.

          Rivers shift in magic night I run away to
          know the feel of sand beneeth my foot.
          Tendon cut the cain I wear of back the
          welts are burried neeth the dirt my tears.

          Extension word of rope the language hopes
          milky eyes in love the lantern dims all days.
          Music earned my mother yearns in wipeing
          way our tears as well of cloth in others wore
          to tell.

          Many countries dust of print such many toes
          sandles trod a crack in armor blanched.
          Burdens life the pleasure packed to sooth
          my souls so clutched in grasp he would
          but know the window is the ink upon the land.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive           1597
          Write) s( Well a Crusty Bottom

          Ink stretches, watered writes.
          It is a perfect S, to the bottom.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1598
          Write, now

          I have no time to
          eat snivel'its you...
          Snivel me thus.
          I hear no snivels.
          Blind I am, snivel.
          Snivel a crack so
          a rose, pink grows.
          Write me a snivel.
          Sing me a snivel.
          Wild snivels croak.
          Train nose in, snivels.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1599
          xanax in a straw

          pharmaceuticals octopuses arm
          is alarmed
          game plan under sultan
          needs reavalue ating
          violence on t.v. is gone
          birthsday is suited
          markets for
          guns
          have collapsed
          from all who drink xanax from a straw.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive    1600
          yea, he is well...you know

          Ashamed of you
          not an ant
          one single ant
          made it safe
          to the other side.
          How could it be
          out of thousands
          it had to be a plot
          gossip will make it back around
          the next bum rush
          will I hope succeed in parting you
          from you picnic lunch
          untill then check your shoes for me
          I will not give up on you no matter what...

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive         1601
          Yellow Flower

          It is poetry it is as
          yellow as the sun.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1602
          Yes fan of ryme

          Please guilty thoughts
          fonts fame
          moon drape it wanes
          sorrows
          tears drip in
          advantage known none
          journey moon heavens
          wait opened arms
          verbs am I nouns few
          adjectives run prepositions
          blind
          modest blessing
          forsaken hallowed sounds
          black cloth was late in everything to.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive    1603
          yes i will rehire you

          Under two positions...
          think hard...be quite...
          One Post is Librarian.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1604
          yes it is true, to true

          you wasted every thing
          except the beetle dung
          paper.
          life is not a round ball is
          pushed from your hand
          like stands of privileged
          trees.
          the crust behind your ears
          tells me you are martial in
          arts of years fl actuated off.
          yet the streak of tears you
          leave on my seat cushions
          tells me your head is position-
          -oneced-wrong to many times.
          i will be in the auditorium to
          sign lost papers if you want
          to sneak in more detail is riddle.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1605
          yes woman, may I come

          When you saved me,
          you saved your self.

          When you touched me,
          you touched your self.

          When you loved me, inside
          you opened all your doors.

          When you breath on me, in
          passing, I shudder then rise.

          You opened my eyes, to all
          that is you, death is in a rose.

          When you call me, fast I do run
          lay at you feet, safe in your sun.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1606
          yes you know

          That my heart has always beat not
          from within, but from without.
          My heart therefor is the love,
          within your hand.
          When you squeeze it, as is your want,
          tears of blood flow down
          your face.
          My life has always lain in the palm of your hand.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive               1607
          Yes You Will

          Your whole life has been waiting
          for this moment of shame.
          Blaming me knowing when tired
          of you saying no when it is yes.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1608
          yes, i did it...

          Stagnant water
          never changed
          unsupervised
          perfumed bottle
          washed in pond
          I bought for you.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1609
          Yes, I would

          Can I trust you,
          not to paste and copy,
          tour of france your friends,
          are swell then tell?

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1610
          Yes, she plays a haunting, on maleness

          Heartless beat, is fixed mind runeless...
          She grabs one vine after the other, sleeping
          in leaves tea water.
          The bush hides my face, the rose is blooded.
          Her moon, tears fall, I wipe them with her heart
          to cluck the center of the bud, eyeless.
          I stare at her through the bottom of the bottle.
          It magnifies her sou-less qualities, without them
          folds petals of squalor, bent in deaths grippe.
          I dont need to fetch her, any more oil is yesterdays, today.
          Rolling her over, I remove my ring from her nose.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                          1611
          yesway, it is a road to a castle of ash es

          I cannot seem to find my way the
          dark green forests are beautiful
          yet thick.
          I follow the sound of rock and roll
          my out of date eight track
          turned off.
          The music reminds me of our last
          day and the way we spent it
          thinking.
          You interrupt my thoughts constantly
          this road has changed
          more curvy like you
          I suppose
          Can I take you back..?
          Your car is in front of me broken down
          will you get mad that I found it..?
          If you get back here before I return just
          leave a message and I
          will remove it..if you want..me to.
          This road to somewhere in you.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive        1612
          You Are

          So hot..smoking trots
          mouth as fine
          as wine
          eyes that glitter
          like bling
          going places
          with me
          having plenty of things
          singing dancing
          smokin
          buzzen
          busy bee
          with me
          out side that tree
          at the copacabana by the sea.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1613
          you are the poet I am your cheese

          Sometimes I hope
          for an asylum
          in you a flower
          not whiskey slums
          of broken
          promises
          yet a faith
          floating down red
          roads of clay
          where a spirit
          of love
          keeps my fall from
          grace unlike that of
          Jesus
          seen only in a dream
          from he
          I am
          at a cross road
          looking for the one
          that is
          you.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1614
          You can lick the spoon

          This bowl full of
          chocolate treat
          pouring planed
          scamper feets
          heres a spoon.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1615
          you can't,       see me...

          i lay in my bed, eating popcorn with soda,
          it is next to the mirror to your room.
          i see you, in your bra and white slippy, your
          radio, keeps my thoughts from your head,
          or you would stop.
          as i try and call out your name.it will not for
          some reason pass forth from my lips
          i see the old scars and the new pink ones,
          the razor in your hand draws me up, what is
          heady becomes Vienna's small pup, you are
          dazed.
          the first cut is effortless, even the butcher is
          graceless next to you.
          the second cut is deep, i see pink, red, neat
          my pop corn becomes as bid as, my eyes
          the blood starts in a small trickle, your eyes
          grow glazed, your lap, in white slip becomes
          a lake of red crimson, my clover fades.
          you come out of it as quietly as you went into it.
          you hurriedly change, bath and then exiet the room,
          i then hear a knock at my door.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                 1616
          You Confessed

          It is fine
          her wine you
          drank it is not
          like you hang
          out
          with Ellen
          or are famous
          why did you hide it
          making me feel
          small
          you said it was
          you trade sandwiches
          with any one
          with a clean spoon
          to lick
          prepackaged conditioner
          is all I was
          to make your hair
          shine
          her eggs on your face to now..
          to bad
          been had in the
          dark to long with you.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1617
          You confuse me with a simple day not made

          Parting seas in oceans dress
          colors us in playing water sent
          flowers put rising dew skyward
          petals blow is scent to beauty in.

          Streams consult thought in waves
          permission rests is a soft cloud is
          hand parting fingers spread to leave
          lashes dew in hair counted as stars.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive       1618
          you don't own anything

          You are a Kidd
          you don't even
          own the freckles
          on your face..lol.
          Sad so sad here
          is fifty cents to
          call
          some one who
          cares..


          For my sniveling
          American neice
          who can't have
          her way..every
          day.....

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1619
          you have to kill me first

          I will never just give it up
          on the punk tip
          get a gripp
          and dip
          ur lip.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1620
          you hide, behind your tongue

          Ears miss the song
          plots gone all wrong.
          Sadly, I chuckle you.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1621
          you know she is not into rednecks

          When she,
          eats the cheese,
          and leaves the cracker.



          All writes reserved
          for Larry, to fix
          the cable Guy.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1622
          you laugh to hard

          With me for all to see.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1623
          You Look

          &#12381; &#12428; &#12399; &#12394; &#12367; &#12394; &#12387; &#12390;
          &#12356; &#12427; &#12398; &#12476; &#12525;
          &#39080; &#12391; &#12354; &#12427; &#12290; .

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                1624
          you make me swell

          Only with your smile,
          the bigger the smile,
          the bigger the wave,
          that washes over you.
          The swell of my smile,
          is wicked so wild, in fun.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1625
          you manipulate my mind with names of you

          I know who you are
          master of my mind long lost in you
          you tell lies to me in kind
          thinking me thinking blind thinking
          laughing all ways loud
          you call
          prissy pink plightless
          feathers
          waters floating edge
          wading soft wading loud
          many are your names
          inside my mind I try to find
          copy true that has not blown away to find
          new home
          reading porridge Oates of words talking hoods.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive            1626
          you must hurry

          i am waiting,
          and no!
          my feet, can't
          stop moving,
          i will miss you.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1627
          You Protest Not

          For the weak...Meak of words...striped of my
          path to your highway i cry..mean is the horse
          throws me on the flooe on purpose...i weep for you...: >)

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                       1628
          you really are

          A jealous ham sandwich
          without any grey poupon.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1629
          You said we could live on grass

          Mist covered golden field
          dusty hay covered sleep.
          Sweeping cob webs lite
          arms covered loves dew.
          Horses fenced frolic into
          rising sun pawing grass.
          Ringing iron trembles air
          fast breaks another day.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1630
          you said, ' keep it short'nSweet..'

          Some things were just not
          ment to be short
          others were always sweet.
          Like You....
          born sweet, and never to be
          that short with me.....

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1631
          you stand in carnal knowledge

          It rushes around it, it darts in and out of it.
          Is it a dream, flames make you scream, to sit
          around the fire, and watch you rush.Blood your mighty
          river, makes you! blush, so you stand.
          The stand, a mighty effort, it is thick in leaves, it is king,
          it stands back again, in dropps that dripp your name.
          It smiles wickedly, your knees shake and sigh, bold as
          glitter, you try to fold, it back inside..
          You sits then, to take it in, with just your eyes, as you watch
          the hand less veil, roll back your tide, and touch the fold.
          It knows your taste, it knows your smell, it knows the holy
          tears that you, have shed, to keep it in, yet still it dances round
          the rim of fire, with hotter flame.
          Every bed, in light of day or dream of night, hides the rose
          it's might, of leaves that ride the bud of sight, to beat around
          the edge this queen and never walk inside the steam, it is
          the greatest blush of all..it smiles inside your, forest dear......

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                 1632
          You Stole My Thunder

          I still have a twig...to bleet with..: : >) it(

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive             1633
          you sweat to

          You labour sweating blind
          salt thick brow crystal now
          callused full palmed flesh
          light of my life spread out.

          Folding me into them as one
          their skin snares mine hold
          water in they pull me down
          to breath as one I am free.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1634
          You think Me a Redneck in Love letters

          Dear loving to love you,                           ) it(s..noon once a day.




          Loving the tires of my truck I'm stuck in you
          as the dog baths at the end of a hose........
          do you not know it is clean..bumping rocks..
          and streams where we play.....skinny is the
          dip of wine...cheesy smiles..wash clean to..
          Fame if not misfortune have i not blessed you
          with a child that whales away...on your chest..
          instead of i....can we not sell it for..more cheap
          thrills...plump plums i peel...of you...always ripe
          always in season....always for sale...i bid the
          highest at market in memory of you..and your
          Tia's...that you told in putting me to sleep..in
          the womb..of the unknown farmer..dwelling..
          in the vale..of misty trees....Lovingly...) it(s..
          ......dreaming..our next...field to plow..
          ........planting...) it(s..peas..in..your...pod
          ............harvesting moons...) it(s..noon

                                           bye love..) it(s..yours
                                                 ) it(

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                         1635
          You Want Me to save You

          Call and make an appointment...) it(s late

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive        1636
          you women you

          You can never know,
          you cannot,
          your Myst,
          if even it's so.
          It is all about you,
          all of it, about
          you.You burst my heart,
          with just your smile.
          You know I will be gone in a while,
          never to know the smell of you,
          perfumed sweat, your core the you,
          in tears sweet salt.
          You, even you,
          where you are to hard core,
          to know the feel of simple plain water,
          short hair dried across your feet.
          I am a simple man, it is that I am,
          no crown jewels,
          was It ever after to paint your lips,
          or brush your hair,
          simply you stand there,
          wash your face with my smile.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive     1637
          You, faves in it..

          They dont walk on two feet.They swim through my blood.
          There hands scoop me out, winds and grey ropes, your
          hope at a longer life.
          You sail through this world, in and out on my diaphragm.
          With a great horizontal smile, you split the horizon.
          The nerve of Vegas you squeeze over and over again.
          Thinking it some slang dirty word mouth, but my blood never is.
          The red river, parted once, you faves it bye.
          Would you still die for it?
          It is you, is it true..dont lie to it..just die in it.
          Then leave me.
          Come then if you will...Stay in the middle..Lies.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                             1638
          You, Tic Tremble, My Hand To Deny

          You set it, right beyond me
          length measures time, you
          know to the inch, how far I
          can go.The collar, spiked
          stings only you.I ignore it,
          reaching, reaching for the
          jug, cool whispers dripp I
          hear, onto the floor, out of
          reach, you pull as one rolls
          closer to close.One little is
          single solitary dropp of milk
          denied, again, again, in out of..?

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1639
          you~

          WOULD~
          ~~~~~~~
          think you~
          could love~
          me for~
          just as~
          i am~
          ~~~~~~~

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1640
          Your Crust Is thin

          Your pan I cannot dance around, it is full not to wide
          I use only two knuckles, the Aurea is twenty one
          club maternal soft yet firm.
          The heat is like a little constantinople, smell of fresh
          scents a spice I left as a small slice, in the middle to breath.
          Juice lays sprayed about, from past pies moments hurried
          berries flow, outward over rims bowl..as well as bread uncounted loaves....a smell this
          oven, will forever hold..........
          still the crust is thin....I am in luck...with butters..one.stick....

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                                                1641
          Your Current Affair

          Wasted busy buys comfort- mined sweat
          it is truly lanced a cushion less of pins
          allude to me soft tender treat.
          Vilified wanton butterfly angels outlined
          with salt thin torn silk sheets.
          Rivers of slow flowing wine wrapped head
          of grape where I can't see the night for day
          or day in light while feeling so on you.
          Dots fly high dancing low spinning by gate
          through flow raspy speech
          I haven't got time for the plane or train in sets.
          Would you please hand me a cigarette..?

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                1642
          Your Drawers

          Have never worked this well
          with linseed cover veneer
          the smell of rich earthen
          sleep.
          The musk, that helps me sleep
          I roll over, my face in the leaves
          moister flows through outside.
          Your knickers cover my a face.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1643
          your first step

          You slept not that long
          in lethargy's dream
          climbing latters.
          The latter was asleep
          never being awake
          taking it's first soul.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1644
          Your gun

          I do not know
          what to do
          every thing I try
          you undo
          why do you want me
          to go this way
          if I must
          I will
          can't you try for me to smile
          I do not blame you
          here will you hand it to me please
          thank you
          I have only one question
          who was he
          why do you lie
          your lips are beautiful
          in the lie
          I would rather choke you slowly
          instead I fire
          you die..over and over and over
          untill they hang me..and bury me on top...

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive        1645
          Your Issues

          Perceived heart mind others decline
          comfortable is the couch of denial.
          Triggers are chiggers on flesh inside
          soft flesh one annoys other is blind.
          World of description labels burdens
          hatching eggs to unfurl bright mind.
          Methods use weapons shuddered
          acceptance of abnormal comparison.
          Heal feel sense employ is empathy
          compassion would then be fashion.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1646
          Your Laundry(>green<) Kinda smells

          How did (>yellow<) stains appear

          in your knickers(>pink<) and soft

          when this(>brown<) colostamy bag

          has been your(>blue<) embarressed

          friend for(>purple<) nightmare days?

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1647
          Your Mouth

          I Crave....) it(s...mine..

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1648
          your other, sneaky hand

          Fights with the other, in the hopes
          to reach top grippe and play ball.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1649
          your right hand

          Misses the rights time of day
          no place left to place a watch.
          Left turns make bumps in the
          night knowing right turns out.
          She left me for someone else
          that was really not right so I Ieft.
          I Left me in it's cold barren land
          right when things warmed up y.
          The right window is not the one
          you left open last night do you
          think we could try that one again.
          It is working on you is it.....o.k...

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1650
          Your River Of Life

          Frightening are your currents eddy flow
          cast me on lost doves with care.
          The skirt of shore this river long so I must
          cling sucking mouths of other fish
          they wait on me.
          Minnows other such deep water trouble
          comes to them as well.
          Gently gather with soft net take me home
          with you I roam for all tommorrows.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive          1651
          your rules of my pain...

          is to cry
          is to flinch
          is to scream
          is to fall asleep
          before the hand
          is even lifted
          keeping the little mouth to
          the wall
          so no one sees it leak.
          keeping that stiff upper lip
          though inside it is of rubber
          stupid rules of pain that even
          the mean adults could not
          ever hardly follow without me
          to share abused child hood with.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive   1652
          Your Shadow will I Keep

          .........Lost forever more in sleep, your shadow will I keep.
          ...Sands of time waves in brine, shadow make me weep.
          .....Flirting movement fought my eye, shadow make me cry.
          .Grace of face never hide, shadow stitched within my side.
          Love laced voice, ever traced, shadow lays within my head.
          ...Teary willow branch within a storm, shadow is your norm.
          ....Translucent hair inside a thread, shadow soul your place.
          ..............Branded skin inside my mind, shadow love is kind.
          Shadows foot upon my heart, tread the space you know so well.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive                             1653
          your string of it's prose

          It runs through it, into one place only you could grow.
          It is tied, in you, to you, by you, for you, to shed it's
          wicked rushes, that are your thrush.
          You cannot walk, without it running into your,
          from behind is,
          it cheek to cheek, it wears your sent,
          to throw the others off your trail.
          It is after all, is it not, the most valuable asset it has.
          You pull your string, just to tug it in,
          back under your skirt of musk.
          Your feet are now so full of it, it walks in you, to wake it.
          This string your wind in prose, his ring, your nose, it pulls,
          you so far into it, your feet must leave the ground.

          Is It Poetry




www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive