Current poems in progress...

oblong pairings

sleek driver torture
bendable pose-pots
lendable hands for
glassing a lung-pop
or blowing a bub-bub

in tub tank
fish fat a
globe-bot
degut a trimspot

deworm it on a dollar
in split-ends flat
or your month's end
back, again
front,forward

a warm welcome back symon :D i'm creatively excited by your presence! perhaps i'll join you soon in words.

-t
-------
t, thank god! our community of souls has not faded.
-Symon
-------
hey you!! *kisses*

i've been sobered by society but shall endeavor a personal literary Renaissance.

-t
-------
and shall I join you?
W.
-------
Yes, please do!

-t

with a provocative shock of hair
i convince you that i truly care
but then do something awful
-Peter Cetera
that scares me for life
to wear a Mozart wig with a frightful puff
would be such a delight
but scarcely enough
To show you that I care

sounds like the general flow of past times...

Radio conquest

Radio conquest.
The long tongue and sole of animal energy.
A plastic lie told to amuse their disfigured children.
Airwaves saturated with oily voices.
The misery of the commonplace nestled secretly in the bottom of an ocean of headphoned zombies
Rigorous electronics to bring them denials.
A non-stop goldfish frenzy upon the pirhanas fed mainline voltage til the transformers blow.

-------
..happily eating popcorn to the movie your words have so generously painted for my starving mind...

Can a fish
tuna guitar

and then gut the poor fish
so we may feast
for tomorrow
well, who knows about tomorrow anyway
so play me a tune on your fishy gitar
and I'll sing with the voice of the ocean
in the morning
when the sun is so rude
to still drunken and hung over souls
we'll talk about tomorrow
while we use our eyes sparingly
secretly hoping we were not too much a fool
in the dark
by fire and moon light..
do not disturb this hangover
for it might just be
that this is as good as it will ever get
before the rest comes crashing down
and we really do have to use tuna guts for guitar strings.
.
W.

The ooze
Emerges from the talking heads
Filling our brains
with new things to dread
change the channel
hide under the bed

Praying mantis
Fraying pant
Sits a man graying
Green is he
Fly now he can't

The joy of dogs
sniff and hump
Piss and run
The joy of babes
Gift of life
The next Generation

One joy leads the other, one joy obeys. The fight between joys becomes commerce. All joys indoctrinated, they become non- competitive In the mean scalpel of time joy suffers ontological demise. Joy dies and gives birth to dog.
-------
that's fucking deep, man.

Death

I.

"Death?

You want to know about death?

In this world
and a million others

Spirits appear in this world
in deference of death;
and then again (simultaneously)

it's saving them from what
We all really fear:
being alone but alive after death."

II.

"All things serve the Lord
except death. How could it?

Straitening my tie, I intone
Nothing from nothing

makes a poor excuse
for the indignity
of death."

YoSoyPicasso!