that poem i am working on keeps growing
chadwick
Posts: 21,157
that poem i am working on keeps growing
a man
a living mountain
or elapsed granite
above a lone stream when sailing
chilled mornings away
sometimes a breeze
a name
or bone
unbending grows cold and polluted
when walking with dirty winter flakes
and oily clouds
smothering towers
somehow amongst everything counterfeit
everything plastic
large round breasts
tan skin sweats cleavage
as if artificial toast
it's the female chest
it is her heart
her hair like stars
or diamonds her smile
everything i've ever dreamt
must be deception
my eyes fall to the ground
as water-bottles clog my pupils
where sound is false against rolling hill-grass
and my hands
are chained
to roam her
somewhere dying in the night
she is what i feel
i can say
she has who i am
in her grasp
as i know
yet chocking on petroleum
and wasted passed caress
tell me i have failed
and i will run
so you can hide
under our bed
hide in the illusions
of chrome and gold
the wings of doves
may be rusted metal
but the feathers do fly
inside your paradise skin
a man
a living mountain
or elapsed granite
above a lone stream when sailing
chilled mornings away
sometimes a breeze
a name
or bone
unbending grows cold and polluted
when walking with dirty winter flakes
and oily clouds
smothering towers
somehow amongst everything counterfeit
everything plastic
large round breasts
tan skin sweats cleavage
as if artificial toast
it's the female chest
it is her heart
her hair like stars
or diamonds her smile
everything i've ever dreamt
must be deception
my eyes fall to the ground
as water-bottles clog my pupils
where sound is false against rolling hill-grass
and my hands
are chained
to roam her
somewhere dying in the night
she is what i feel
i can say
she has who i am
in her grasp
as i know
yet chocking on petroleum
and wasted passed caress
tell me i have failed
and i will run
so you can hide
under our bed
hide in the illusions
of chrome and gold
the wings of doves
may be rusted metal
but the feathers do fly
inside your paradise skin
for poetry through the ceiling. ISBN: 1 4241 8840 7
"Hear me, my chiefs!
I am tired; my heart is
sick and sad. From where
the sun stands I will fight
no more forever."
Chief Joseph - Nez Perce
"Hear me, my chiefs!
I am tired; my heart is
sick and sad. From where
the sun stands I will fight
no more forever."
Chief Joseph - Nez Perce
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Godfather.
Wish you were here...
♥~RIP Dad
you don't want to be stuck at the toll
can you believe they actually make us pay to drive roads?
What's better than a cigar? Ed with a sitar
that's a good thing yeah?
"To question your government is not unpatriotic --
to not question your government is unpatriotic."
-- Sen. Chuck Hagel
your thoughts always forever
kinda like an implosion that lives
and grows
it scares me
honestly.
"Hear me, my chiefs!
I am tired; my heart is
sick and sad. From where
the sun stands I will fight
no more forever."
Chief Joseph - Nez Perce
whose is it? u decide
What's better than a cigar? Ed with a sitar
rocket ships
every control switch
each booster
taken to the other side of sun
past future present showers
astronomy landing libraries
this is existing to believe
over existence
through the other side behind inner moon cells while moving towards glowing
tell me what is living
and what hasn’t begun
i can only beg
to disbelieve in voyage
magnetic spheres
must be what i see
with flying more
electricity routing behind teeth
grind circuits for deeply cruising
the making
"Hear me, my chiefs!
I am tired; my heart is
sick and sad. From where
the sun stands I will fight
no more forever."
Chief Joseph - Nez Perce