some time to do rewrites

Plumbago

plumbago

and I keep this one to myself
til now,
a flip thought,
one might say-

Cement truck driver
suggests that I let it go,
is that a dual meaning?

the one thought
creeps along
like the day
like the traffic

{the thought-that everyone in my city whose on the freeway, is slowing down, halting, for me... for only the most precious, romantic, and magical of reasons, would the time starved citizens of Metropolis do this jam -so- that I have not passed the muse, or that the muse may catch up to me, I want this to happen (and make the most of one wish) the wish only being to talk about poetry, etc. and he, these are important dreams)

I have it, this thought,
countless times,
for countless days
and it will creep into my mind
this wish
while I bitch (This is Metropolis!!!)
at my fellow time starved citizens
accompanying me in the endless strands of traffic
countless times,
for the countless days
til retirement
stop and go
no matter which is way out
it is that frustration
and I ask
Why can't I ever be going against it?

Ramble on..

you do your work

in protest
to confront and confound
the societal game
of manipulation
and it's the same
fucking questions
punk naked or disguised

to shock out the truth
and we just give it away
and curse it,
the indemnity
eat it to
hagiocracy
if only out of frustration
to express

we contended with comment
on plastic and paper
the plain devour
the wastes of corruption
and the God haggles
what your holding
to a higher standard
of surreal creator
walk me through fire
for the bitter
be gentle to the ground
speak as the thunder
cuts in electric punctures
a light to shine
the private sparse

jacked up on on coffee and earthquakes, gives me a manic high

you gotta let loooove rule
Lenny Kravitz rocks

its mmuch better in the proper format, I suckk

lovin your "rhyming to the time on the phone"

Telliots

Further than sundowns last man
can I say it back to you
in locution
trust pain learned
as tension
it is more
seduction,,
tore a rise in me
into a need rampant
for an abandonment
by a father dalliance
fierce to his own reflection
splintered in
estrangements peace

Why can't somebody airdrop or truck or boat some food and bottled water into New Orleans!



Labeled Fancy

I see how it is
black steeping
oolongs pensive service
poured in rusted cups
this is comraderie
sulking in its tipped colors
imperious colors, that are red leaves
and someday recollections
of apathy
in any observable sunset
to fancy, this la
cause it can run combatants
blossomed and barren
of country elected complacency
a sunset, had it resembled
a darkest dry cloud
swallowing all the blue jazz
and sunny disposition
into wholly shaken sadness
like the eight seas
like the eight seated
are eight loaded guns of piping opposition
with the slip pf the finger
ham radio operator reads
clearance
and fire remisses
a strain that has drawn it
down to despotic
turning to an angry weather
beating it into my head
open eyes on sunset
toward its fallen west
observable in two seas
of neoconquistadors
I want to lisp
as if I were those words
off Brando's lips the logistics of
breaking on the edge
I put the flowering graveyards
of revolution to your head...

Michelle Raine