And All of Floating Thought
vogonpoetbythelake
Posts: 2,146
And All of Floating Thought
Maybe hot flashes spring from all the years of unshed tears
and yet it seems to me there were so many tears that none would be left to flash hot
My tears were shed in batches of time, though I had a really good dry spell,
The deluge has come to cleanse the dust.
Nicotine has blocked the swell and allowed my expression to go up in smoke.
I have heard that cocaine dries up the tears of the world, no wonder the use is global,
Sadness and fear have spread so rampantly, perhaps
Replacing tobacco’s sacred use and abuse with another kind or not so kind panacea.
Draw the light down in, so as not to drag the muck up!
Letting go of tobacco, the sticky mess comes vaulting fourth in great gobs of goo.
Tobacco too often counted on to quell the pain of my unfocused and/ or rather scrambled existence.
Such hard focus on the escape, yet what a silky ride, filled with waves of ecstasy and nausea in turns
The ebb and flow drawing me back to the smoky mirrored realms of experiences
not shared as the moment’s fleet.
So many ships in the harbour, temptation is to sail out into the open,
Flotilla, a fortress at sea.
Unarmed, flippers flashing in steady cadence
Deploying ripples met by the unceasing moon-pulled vagrant tide
Into the towering babbling bubble of babylon
Maybe hot flashes spring from all the years of unshed tears
and yet it seems to me there were so many tears that none would be left to flash hot
My tears were shed in batches of time, though I had a really good dry spell,
The deluge has come to cleanse the dust.
Nicotine has blocked the swell and allowed my expression to go up in smoke.
I have heard that cocaine dries up the tears of the world, no wonder the use is global,
Sadness and fear have spread so rampantly, perhaps
Replacing tobacco’s sacred use and abuse with another kind or not so kind panacea.
Draw the light down in, so as not to drag the muck up!
Letting go of tobacco, the sticky mess comes vaulting fourth in great gobs of goo.
Tobacco too often counted on to quell the pain of my unfocused and/ or rather scrambled existence.
Such hard focus on the escape, yet what a silky ride, filled with waves of ecstasy and nausea in turns
The ebb and flow drawing me back to the smoky mirrored realms of experiences
not shared as the moment’s fleet.
So many ships in the harbour, temptation is to sail out into the open,
Flotilla, a fortress at sea.
Unarmed, flippers flashing in steady cadence
Deploying ripples met by the unceasing moon-pulled vagrant tide
Into the towering babbling bubble of babylon
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Moody flats is where she’s at, pretty close to the railroad tracks
Train has gone around the bend, to send her lover off, where she don’t defend
Surrender seems to be the only game in town, to the feelings, she’s come aground
Deep inside the pulsing whore, there is no venom only a store
Of all the precious times gone by…
Makes her want to take a run, then fly
Moon is high up in the sky, fielding lovers calls unanswered,
Future is now and she’s got no resolve to abandon ship just ‘cause the captains gone
to a frozen field that he’ll soon thaw with his love filled notions of the daily draw.
Ashes flown, driven by the breeze
At rest in the best possible light, dappled, dressed in grey