It‘s a kinetic exhibition: the cosmic ballerina rocks and whirls her talisman, captivating technokites with mirrors of deception. A tight tank top, lipstick, a lollipop and I too am lovesick for the bad, little girl at a booth, in the bar, drinking beer and bullshitting about her genetically altered body grin; say “yeah, that’s great. me plus you, baby, equals fate.” but pumpkin merely preens files, paints her nails, blows ruby red lips in a wide O causing car crashes and bar fights and apocalypse chivalry is so unbecoming today, all you can really get is a bruised face, aching fists when battling for a narcissist
Pardon me... just passing through. He carelessly leaves brash comments, to denote feeling that everything is limited when compared to the newness shinning beyond past descriptions.
Sounds like a pretty good description of a night on the town to me!! This made me laugh... "but pumpkin merely preens files, paints her nails, blows ruby red lips in a wide O "
waltz to an aching concerto shivering portamento octaves achieving weeping peace my little bumble bee, haunted by harmony, by breathlessness by intoxicating compositions don’t cry, there now, I know it hurts your heart to hear spirit depicted impeccably collect this polyphony, glide in cadence, on this faintly floor embrace melodic rapture, with me
This is so beautiful, fulmah. So sensitive and elegant. I can cry if I want to, is all I will add. Yes, impeccable and full of rapture. When you return from your long hard day at work... perhaps a smile will greet you from all of us here that love you so
>> ... << a stoned marrionette dance, surely, documents this mellodrama of police brigade blockades, blacked out blackboard communiques and engineered abduction of exchange. all this cryptographic shit hides behind fermented verse but tell me, how's it feel, honey, to handle omnipotent opinion coz obviously, you know nothing. heh... humiliated yet? surprised? the sarcastic polish probably skewed perception. pathetic.... perhaps>> if presented in pretty poetic pantameter epiphany could be relented my dear poetic examiner so equip diplomatic sociology and re-analyze the above symbology.
Cleanliness is sign of capability if you think about it and, I propose that behavior correlates parallel to the mess you demonstrate and propel. I’ve lived in filth, and felt fight's resilient grip and the fact is: me and you, baby, fail.
Hey -cryptographic shit-, how appropirate it must be in my poem in relation to your subject! Sounds like venting indeed.
...from the "down into the well we go" collection.... I feel the pain of not having eaten enough the body won’t support the nutrients the mind grows dumb and mystified at the weight behind a feeling the relevance of how and why and what is the point of this pen this ink and these sorry words when is it going to start raining to top off all this symbolism. yesterday I drove home. nothing special. but I couldn’t listen to the radio so there was only a silence the sound of the engine that hum from air conditioning a brief piece of song from some car passing by the rustle of fabric from my foot moving from gas to break from break to gas holding down the clutch shifting through the gears. these erratic mental moods a few hours of clarity of confidence in the turn of events will turn into apathy, heartache it’s hard to get out of bed to concentrate, to be productive and then I’m in the car again and I’ve somewhere to go a coffee shop to talk about moving a friends house to record some records but for a few minutes there I sat in the corner of the couch and looked around the room and she wasn’t there and it was hard I had to go outside smoke a cigarette watch all these headlights pass by and would you believe I actually wanted an orange flashing blinker an application of breaks her car pulling in, parking and then I had to stand put out the cigarette and go inside.
So, is alright I light my cigarette? Typically, you'd not consent, you'd rip my lungs with your watery revenge, tidal babe of bile, battling the unbridled horizon with bloody, virulent dreams. The finest residence is free of difficulty, right? Tell me, hows it feel now, following riptides torrential pull, that developed devil of drunk drama? Drama you perpetuate. These are the accurate thoughts that disturb and dig up demons, bring tortured intuition to life. And just when it was safe, your dread decimates continents, invades innocent encounters and so, fuck you if I complain. I object to your manipulation. Go back in time, remember what was said? I always was a prophet, and I thought I could cover your kilometers, no maps, no directions, but so sorry, I fucked up. You were right. You were always right.
"Riptides remembered" (great title) is the sort of passage, that if I found it in a novel, I'd go back and start the novel over, looking to ensure I hadn't missed any other gems like this. Great stuff!
Simplify, simplify, simplify *one simplify should suffice* attention scattered in clutter does not see the focused beauty of peace. Well written. A+
