1995 Summer Living under sky’s of blue. Words of truth. Abuse. Accused to lose. Abuse of the visual state of mind. Working time. Starting a poem with a word, that you don’t do. Abuse. Wheels as a tool. Many trees sit in silence. They gently throw fits. Moving about, clashing branches. Falling down, setting stances. In stars of farms with white fences. Seated in fields. Weeping tears. Blinded with life, the trees see heaven. These machines with the wicked wheels, cutting my ground with an obnoxious sound. The God of love, set boundaries. The leaves fall from these lovely trees. Falling within love, Entering the ground. Windy sounds now come. Falling in love. Holding her tongue. Kissing her thumbs. An Annunciation, to my love. Within violins, and a sky that spins. Within feelings of being above, falling within her love. Instruments of peace, connect with me. Her and I, make history. Figuring out the meaning of life is like finding the meaning behind an obscure poem you read for the first time. After reliving the poem daily, you put your own meanings into it and that is what the meaning is, your own. Cheers and fairs. Tears and yawns. Sleep and wake. Fried and baked. To you, I saw you, drifted like the clouds. For us, I saw us, floated like the God-like touch. Your temple, your temple in heaven. Next to your eyes, across from what you hear from. Your temple, the sweet curve, inward. Out into your brain, the system, of thinking. Your temple is heaven. Wonder about sight, and just what it is that you see. Wonder about fright, and what is it that scares you and me? Dwell on life, not sight or fright, they are just details, that have fairy tales. Life is what to think of. Think of the gold sparkles, coming from the dove. She drew me a flower today. She was drawing the Botticelli for school, and I asked her for a drawing of a flower. It’s a nice flower. Tiny drops of gold, sparkle all about the path of the dove. The clouds above, move away, to another man’s day, soon they’ll rain. A worm will move and birds will eat his body in time. Within wide turns, the nature is ruined. All the ceilings, coming down again. All the children, old and told parables. Sold and sent to the cannibals. This beauty of a life must die. This beautiful creator must die. All the children grow wings and fly. Flying, the wind is calling. Humming, staying solid, and dropping. Soon rising again. Behind clouds, crying. The angel carries bread and water in handmade baskets. We all have a body, to carry. We all had a body, to carry. Even the worm in the mud. Even the bird eating him. We are all carrying our body. We all carry our own body. After death, our souls are deeply sorry. The clouds have our body. Ankles together, she stands, light as a feather, floated in breezes of peace. Yet the space and worlds around her are so controlled with evil grace. Past savages and ones in her history killing each other. Yet she starts to prance and dance with arms in the air. Water flows, watch how the sunbeams create sparkles that glow. Lawns mowed, look at how each and every blade is perfectly cut. Look at how the sparkles glow. Look at how each and every blade is mowed. Water flows, creation grow and grow and wake up. A lady with a rose so gay. Holds it gentle and she prays. Darkness all around her. Her dress is clean and perfect. The flowers she holds, seem wilted and old. Her smile seems smooth and moves her holding. Paintings in grey. Look at all sunlight you’ve got today. It seems like the saints have prayed. Cross the sky with you vision, only you can take your systems, all away, all away and away, to the relaxed days. It seems like the saints have spent all day, praying sunny days. A Presentation of the warmth of the light. A recreation of the feeling into flight. An admired way of thought, a cloud is the fog, writing poems on the job. Yes, I wish I was outside. Yes, I do want some sunlight. Turn it on, Turn it on and on and way up in the sky, don’t say bye. We both eat chocolate. Under covers, so delicate. I smell you, your hair, your watery tears. We both talked, kissed and hugged. My announcement, standing on cement. Loving you, in the truth of my blue, bold, I stand. I hold onto your hands. Holding your hand. Love in a band. Caring to stand. Sky under land. Holding the land. Painting the cement. You love my sigh. Fly, fly, fly, away into the angels of the sky. Today was bright and sunny. Pretty humid, to the… The dead and the living. Am I forgiven? Singing. A lady in pink dress. An old women in a pink sweater. Loving this place in a harmony. Alive. Radios we listen to. I knew the other two. As a child has forgotten the past, thoughts of being forgiven in states of penance. A love now found. Forever in photos. Standing on the ground. I knew the colors of youth. Beautiful, groomed tool of the models, mood. Loved forever.
Posted on: Wed, 14 Aug 2013 07:01:52 +0000
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