I love her
She are the most beautiful thing ive seen.
On clear winter nights I can see the moon's jealousy reflected in your eyes.
My celestial body,
The heavens have saved space for our love.
I can not live with out her love.
We must be together
I write my being in verse to the cadence of your heartbeat.
My mortal melody,
Come, let us dance along the sheet music with love letters upon our soles.
I am so happy.
She is my dream come true.
I love her more than anything.
You are the exclamation point to end my life sentence.
My sweet simile,
When the spring rains come, surely the Gods are whispering your name.
Thank you so much.
You are a great friend.
I will never forget this.
My panache shall not bear the soil of vanity.
I love through letters, the harmonious word is my kiss.
My heart at nose length
Is the only way to keep from seeing my reflection in her eyes.
Farewell my love.
Three flights down is her car.
Sedan. Four door. Twenty-one thousand miles.
She was an artist once.
The smartest dunce.
Finger paintings mostly. Never sold a finger print.
Now she works five days for fity weeks. Filing. Typing.
Her sentence is run-on.
Never noticing the tessellating artistry of her cubicle horizon.
Her T's are crossed, eyes are glazed over.
Her tears are seeded
Where the sonnets will grow.
But they hold tight to old sights.
Pupils too contricted from the monitor glow.
Three flights up is the roof.
Sky. Four clouds. Twenty one mile view.
In every direction.
A Tail of Two Prongs
"A Tail of Two Prongs"
We've talked once or twice.
Me and her labia.
Or should i say her labia and i.
"Play me a tune on your fork maestro!"
She knows, yes she knows.
Two prongs too long to tune wrong.
Perfect pitch hero harmonizing her swoon song.
She writes poetry and prose.
Well, she tries to.
Take her paragraph, tear in half
And a few lines slide through.
Her oceans aren't deep
But At least the sky is bright blue.
She is a Professional bitch.
And still cant pay the rent.
Perhaps she is in the wrong line of work.
She's thoroughly dug.
Men with spades, jacks over aces.
"This may hurt," sifting the pay dirt
Grinning through cracks in their faces.
I mind a gem that will go lovely with my earings.
Hanging off the profiled lobes.
Sometimes then vibrate in unison.
And thats when i know to listen in.
My Hands Are Full
My Hands are Full
It was love at first fight.
I met and married her in a four post tikki bar.
Under a 2.99 per minute plastic flamingo sunset.
I've thrice divorced that girl from Ipanema.
You'd think i would have learned my lesson by now.
Perhaps i should write it on my hand.
If i can find the space.
On the cusp...
Exhibit dual nature yet remain a Taurus kid,
I refrain from choruses, thunder-lizards and Thesauruses
Poor as piss, my brain is in the tourist biz
Forever falling...and wondering if the floor exsist...
My wit leading in with a shit eating grin
Over bathroom breaks and urine samples
As i lure in ample ex-girlfriends and examples
Of a whole lot of harems of harlots and tramples...
I dont debate the pros and cons that constitue prositutes
Costing you losts of loot, lost on the Boston route
I join mages who blend sages and mix wizards that transcend pages...
Press on rose pedals to toe metal and nervously prune'em
And always coin phrases like "E Plurbus Unum"