I call you Art Beautiful, interesting Expressive, talented And yet so delicate.
Turn my words to dust Turn from dust to dust Play my favourite type of blues Paint it from blue to blues Pour me a bottle of wine
I do not write my poetry for no-on… And every dawn, i do not reason wh… —On about mystic my work chaperon… Mystic is me but with more time yo… You will break the mystery and lea…
A fool i was to rest on beauty, To lean my back on gratitude, On just a sight and nothing but Just a sight of what i cannot Do nothing but please.
As i have reached the town, The town which i thought never exi… The town; where two blocks are dro… The town; where more stoned-houses… And astonish sights of lands, lake…
Words cannot say How long i would love to live Words be dear not to say How much i would rather live to fi… Words better not say
I know Something That could Do the Trick
Every forsaken days of the week, Every unfortunate month of the yea… I would arose from my own rest, lo… And i would sum the seconds, minut… To my rise or prime to my fall.
As knowledge will enrich its own s… For so many comfort peace Will make aware, For so many sheet our bed Will yearn, for so many seeds
The sound-cloud with a silence act… White soft smoke with a bright Foamy art, The sound-cloud travels with light And circles in an area,
I Am not a drinker If not I would have claimed that Bottles help me write.
The delights of autumn, the cats shivering and the birds as silence as a morning morgue, th… that blows you backward and coldne… that knit deep into your dry skin,
Under the stripped trees in a pear… Winter, there i found a white blos… Dropped in a muffled sound-like And it formed A surface,
I have Loved Less Since The last
A very good piece, Writing a good poetry is like maki… Or trying to get to sleep as a kid… Or hearing an ice cream truck and There is no certainty that you wou…
