My soul's slow-burning TNT fuses:
inch-worming through Earth's clay
as an old hand-wound phonograph
treading a bouncing, sparkling step
marking every emotion self-seeking
over sizzling starkness of sobrieties
Poems
These mosquitos are here, and they're here to stay
why there's nothing we can do to keep them at bay
They're going to get us past screens and front door
why the pests need plasma, and always want more!
I don't know what power's holding me up
but this energy's not what we're believing
and our divineness isn't how we're saying
I know a force to be scientifically truthful
every spirit within parcel to one equation
all math, physics and chemistry functions
In the face of factuality, at the heart of all that's real
bargains made from lemonade paint delightful deals
Stand stored near inklings urged, cheerfully my must
squeeze a child's joyfulness past moldy beer and dust
Though dying time be brawny, one whistle upon dark
whittles down an aging frown creating youthful spark
Remember to stay happy, forget these scorching years
grin I win to whom we've been releasing grateful tears
Is that my head cut off in a basket
rolling down an ancient pyramid?
Have I played an evolutionary part
dealt as niceness everything I did?
Am I to be remembered as a goody
ends of me returning well reports?
Did I help each living human being
surviving all my fitting last retorts?
She likes my ice cream and I like her cake,
these ingredients of ours a baby will make
Add on double wow-wows of ecstatic icing,
sprinkle a sparkly, happy soulmates dream!
Reincarnation's a really smart idea,
the act of returning in other bodies
but premature, lacking foundations
as the coming back theory's correct
molecules are recycled then reused
except what's new isn't us anymore.
I found her, she's everything and all
sexy body, personality stands so tall
Khmer girl, a sweet and innocent 44
quite kind, warm, and so much more
Very caring, sincere with every word
a compassionate, happy Asianic bird
Her name's Eng, she has 2 good sons
we play, I see the love within our fun
I'm in a poem's factory
a labor camp of rhyme,
the work feels like play
stanza sweats are mine
I've flown far now to well bottom
knee deep in grateful sentiments
I'm lapping her nice, sweet water
bathing in good sediment of love
Born in the right place at a good time,
otherwise, a bus sized dragonfly would
trap me in its strong, stocky front legs
serrate my skull with a huge mandible
use vast, hinged jaws (which can open
wide as its alien-eyed, fighter's helmet
head) to ingest me as a yummy nibble!
I'm on a poem roll
pumpernickel ryes
nutty whole wheat
seedy buttered top
fighter jets Mach 3
waggling my wings
