i have no idea who 3/5ths of these people are. |
MyHeritage: Celebrity Collage - Free genealogy ...
Posted by All is on. on Thu, 06 Dec 2007 10:15:00 PST |
take two |
Our heat
bespeckled the clouds red.
Your flesh,
my flesh,
rhubarb as cherub cheek:
Stinging sweet,
heavy
and
hellish.
Panting,
bubbling,
a screeching,
fleshy,
star has b...
Posted by All is on. on Mon, 19 Nov 2007 11:20:00 PST |
Read this it |
The defeatist lay,
with the stomped daises.
Yesterday's entrails still pulsing,
and the garbage's growing too.
The defeatist waits for sun.
"It'll mend what has been done"....
Posted by All is on. on Fri, 09 Nov 2007 08:11:00 PST |
This is dedicated to a friend named?????? and, yes, its a lameo poem |
Their lines--edgeless--
heavy and undefined,
as billows of smoke.
But,
you,
my snap-shot
of kaleidoscope colors,
daintier than god,
suffocated by the wayward impulse--
will never be tha...
Posted by All is on. on Fri, 26 Oct 2007 11:21:00 PST |
Read it. Possibly love it? |
Beauty's as rogue
as it is jarring;
Debasing, any axis
with its incessant colors,
Sequestering--
the wild or livid
behind a cold iron frame....
Posted by All is on. on Sun, 30 Sep 2007 02:06:00 PST |
Poem for you to, (please?) , read. |
My heart swells,
thumping murkily,
'till it's a spoiled,
mud-spitting geyser;
shooting forthright,
for the world to see.
But,
our world,
the dizzying
and black
carousel,
wouldn't
--coul...
Posted by All is on. on Sun, 05 Aug 2007 12:26:00 PST |
One complex of Allison & Annie. |
I could entertain a plague;
my muscles, under spotlight,
wont melt to taffy.
I can light exhausted wicks;
fluttering hands tied,
with liquid match-sticks.
But, two hours more,
or two ho...
Posted by All is on. on Wed, 23 May 2007 11:14:00 PST |
poem time |
This isn't a moment,
unlike the moments,
when the pores wake
and slightest change
in the air
becomes
a tantalizing
addition
to a forthcoming fantasy.
...
Posted by All is on. on Fri, 23 Mar 2007 12:24:00 PST |
Jew love my poetry skills or not so much. |
On a partly cloudy day,
the sunshine plays--
he's an ongoing scrape.
Continuing,
like the over-zealous horse,
before thirst and time
swayed. ...
Posted by All is on. on Fri, 02 Mar 2007 06:32:00 PST |
Snow's leisure. |
First snow,
steaming on the asphalt,
evaporate with me.
When we reach the curb,
will the wind move us?
Or will we settle here?
First snow, you go.
like today's traffic.
...
Posted by All is on. on Sun, 18 Feb 2007 05:01:00 PST |
