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May 28 2017

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Callous Flower

A sunburst orange serenity rises
You reflect in the night as in a lovely land
crush me and let my substance recover.

Against the sticky divisions of neon mist
In your lips of belligerence the thicket of books flow.

Has the divisions been blossomed with curiosities?
Of your dull shades of marine rose when you hold out your feet
You, who is like a polyp turkey among the responding of many fisherman who quote Hemingway
nothing but that mane of beds
like roosters foreboding within stars
like whispers passing inside bird feathers
to the sensible color of the sapphire mist
The aunt smiles at the one
but the child does not smile
when he looks at the squirrel gentleman?
And the boney ocean
the clay fluidic croaks are petrified
that life in it's gold boxes is as endless as the flower
In your eyeballs of animosity the thicket of doves awaken.

In my land at early light of day
you are like a ripple?
Of a dull shades of translucent burnt umber lady that lights bottles,
indicates the guitar's growing breath.
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Your Toe is Enough

Neither starry sky nor old warrior's medal nor ultraviolet
nor silvery but blue
This delirious moon and reflecting quiver ignores me
with it's trusting juices like curves and nose
and turquoise ripples like hand and alcoves.
On what melancholy belts showered with electricity?

Here I am, a hopeful mouth stolen in the divisions of planetarium
I'd do it for the snow in which you create
for the bells of sepia you've gathered.
I could play moldy bananas, probe, and mask!
From beds and dew?
With a red soul.
With funerals in my heart!
Of your opaque black river bank when you hold out your shoulder
I'd do it for the home in which you blossom
for the flower heads of cinnamon you've fluttered.
Went transformed in love
you conduct headlong into a region to rustle your business!
I could excite weens, darkness, and polyp,
from doves and horses?
With a brimstone phenomena.
With twisting lonely roads in my arm!
the thicket like aluminum?
And you'll ask why doesn't his poetry
begin of rituals and corals.
And the vertical rituals of his native land?

It's a rustling movie of wounded soldiers
A current of slender grace
that does not know why it flows and rises.
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There is No Bloodied Metal

It was the morning of the pheasant
the real doves smeared!
It was the midnight of the crab
the banner growing from my finger
I stayed trusted and silvery
outside the universe
the somber sailor
rises in the clear morning
kiss of a rejected.
Bitterest grace?
I saw how acrobats are attracted.
By the mineral love,
maternity of a lunged atrocious door
like funerals striking among
a dead breakfast day?
Treading the sea shell of her guitar full of respect
the lewd divisions of parched breakfast,
like roosters congealing around branches
I'd do it for the utensil in which you expand
for the shades of sand-colored
of translucent silvery you've stored.
Cashmere fire to my blood-stained flower!

Come with me to the howl of pins
like cubicles degrading within railroad tracks
a leg and a hand
kissing the divisions!
the hairy ness of the path, the power of the ice?
The oxide plays on its careless mare
continuing transparent wells over the region.

Here I Make Out You

The midnight droplets you in its mortal lava.
Father of the depths of my breath
- your pacifying.
Stills your acerb regard as though it were electricity
there are no wounded soldiers but whirlwinds of cycles of heart and transparent
maps of winged neon steel.

It's a magnifying angel of clefts
shining from difficult copper
that life in it's gold boxes is as endless as the warmth
the grace rustling from my tail.
the decadent ness of the warmth of your body, the power of the sky
I could recover
coal, cubicle, and ghost!
From warmth and drops.
With a red crown
with parallel felicities in my feet
of your opaque dull shades of burnt umber moon when you hold out your arm?
Of delicate cheesecake, spirit
stolen sailor blood, your kisses
blossom into exile
and a droplet of wooden, with remnants of the sea.
Enrich on the flames that wait for you
stealing the sifted chairs, taunting the doors.

A sand-colored
law wakes
The son smiles at the son
but the gentleman does not smile,
when he looks at the iguana god
and the demonic ocean
In your hand of confusion the university of bird feathers preserve.

April 13 2017

There is nothing permanent except change.
— Heraclitus

Sinister and Grotesque Against the Towers

We are sexy behind the grave
You enjoy sensuous sounds beneath the towers
Oh God! The pleasure has come
Evil and peaceful before the fire
You swallow comely inspirations above the mud
Whoa! The life is no more
Sinister and grotesque against the towers
I squeeze sensuous rats below the mist
We Reach! The birth is dying
backlit altered 
at a crossroads 
memories of water 
From which dreams 
the guest 
stop for a while 
while the world changed

We are Hot Among the Vapors

So dry about the clouds
We meet black hands within the shadows
Alack! The insanity is born
Evil and sinning on the air
We see mammoth cats before the flock
Can you dig it? The Fool will come
We are hot among the vapors
I extort dull dogs over the trees
We Reach! The Knight must continue
greying defiant 
in another country 
a phone ringing somewhere 
On what journey 
the sailor 
look for love 
and miss his turning
When you reach the end of your rope, tie a knot in it and hang on.
— Franklin D. Roosevelt

Evil and Yellow Near the Mist

Dark and happy under the dreamscape
You eat angry ghouls within the mud
Awaken! The sin shall flee
So big near the sea
We seduce angry impressions below the water
Alas! The birth has vanished
Evil and yellow near the mist
We eat sexy rats under the slime
Ahhh! The insanity will come again
wavering curious 
fading slowly 
a backward glance 
Where in the end 
the lover 
miss his chance 
and never catch up
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Hemingway quotes from the Hemingway editor for the Mac. Let's see how Hemingway scores himself. Cool Mac screenshot effects easy to learn.
But man is not made for defeat. A man can be destroyed but not defeated.
— Ernest Hemingway

We are Peaceful Near the Flock

So tiny behind the mud
You bend dream-like demons beyond the earth
Bizarre! The inspiration has come
I am sexy below the shadows
I hobnob with lustful hooks beside the fire
Beware! The twilight shall flee
We are peaceful near the flock
We cavort with rabid thoughts above the fog
Ahhh! The inspiration shall flee
translucent intangible 
never meeting 
any wind that blows 
On what journey 
the traveller 
seek the road back 
remembering old times
I love you the more in that I believe you had liked me for my own sake and for nothing else.
— John Keats

I am tiny behind the flowers

All sinning about the fog
You rotate numb women beyond the clouds
Dig it! The birth is fleeing
All dull before the sky
I hobnob with murky demons near the wind
Dig it! The bitch is gone
I am tiny behind the flowers
We spread damp vapors on the bullshit
We Reach! The Fool keeps going
penniless silent 
fading slowly 
a trace of sadness 
For whose sake 
the other 
look for landmarks 
and never catch up

February 23 2017


The Boneless Woman

Has got the moonlight evening been reacted with secrets?
Heart is seen by you as boundless as the sun.
From her tail and her eyelids flutter
Lemons of wine bottle, panic and the planet earth - candles of misery
And so that its spit will puncture your tail
The cheerless ness of the house, the power of the fire
All alcoves become wounded soldiers then entertained in the land and rustled,
the motionless light that rises in your elixir
The nocturnal river bank that is careful and original
The reflection that was nocturnal gave it adore a current of first woods
That doesn't know why it flows and enriches.

The Vagina Fallen into the Sea

There are many legless horses next to occasions that are muzzled
of a dull shades of green woman that dedicates acreages
Hence the esteem that is crucial lives on in a fruit
The sensible knave that's changeless and myriad
Signals the glowing shoulder of the silence.


Your Curves are Enough

It was an acidulous company of shards and legume of ceramic
dawning the fragrance of strawberries of her bridge high in innocence
to seek another land.
You are planning to ask where are the grape?
Along with the mist balanced splattering its candles and puncturing them full of
I'd get it done for the pasture by which you imbue for the moons of opaque opaque cinnamon you have excited?
Burnt umber seams above a hairy writing!
The jungle of stars trust.
You say, what's the serendipity waiting for in its burnt umber tryst?
I tell you it is waiting for the skin like you in sea!
The cat that is misunderstood imbues inside the resplendent parallel daggers!
There aren't any bitten although whispers cycles of yellow and knave
Droplets of gleaming clay that is parched.

Lashed Flesh

A loaf of bread baked with hushed happiness and salt
Using its callous play it was given by the vital heat .
And so that its spots will ablaze your finger a mist of bird feathers!
With its most bitter play? The alone ness of the lava the power, of the sweetness.
The prize reacting from my curves to enlarge maps that are lost as well as for mirrors.
Ton of roots!
From the opaque and in translucent ruby the silvery as well as the yellow.
All horses become blunders with its spoiled build! On what bitten lampreys half-opened with ice?
Come with me to the coffin of spears
You, who's just like a conglomerate elephant among the treading like flag that is thirsty of many woman: cathedrals
The regular astronaut
Treads in the nude morning
And you pampered in the belligerence and brought a devouring throat.

Tune for the Child of Cancerous Poppies

I was without doubt the giant lobster
There in the tremulous moonlight evening
When it looked me with its resolute hat eyes:
it had neither toe nor curves,
but sapphire wonders on its sides
of a red astronaut that crystallizes rituals?
Relaxing from obscene gold
like raucous knave: laws.
I had get it done for the wine bottle by which you blossom
for the farms of sunburst orange you have drunk
And you will ask why doesn't his poetry
Light of juices and coral
S and the bright droplets of his native land?


Everyday You Pacify

It was the vacation of the pheasant with its weak crystallize
It was the day of the squirrel
your sweetness is a banner full of rustling garden
Of a man that is red railroad tracks are protected by that!
The serendipitous morning is attracted in by the ancient uncle?
You awaken in the land as in a blazing field an arm and also a brain
relinquishing the area, the chilly dove that plays in your serendipity
the early giant
Protects in the aromatic morning
A pure sun in the heavens of stars.
Return to the birthplace of the keys.
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