

OLV 233I glimpse the tears of my hanging blinds Blatant, naked, barefaced Swallowing the trite world outside The macadam streets & outstretched trees The moldering buildings & grass that's turned green It's feigned by this all today Powerless to take granted Kindred is my soul As if the world got a face lift without me looking Prowless slut Wish I still hated herOLV 233


He was my Turnicate& I have lost my virginity The absence of excess entrusted upon me during parturition Virtue strayed? Substantiate just made spectacle through my eyes Placing its charcoal hands to my face & I tread on clouds Blithesome from these tarnishes & the horizon makes off Even as I lay these occurrences to rest on page While the unconscious filter remains Overwhelmed & battered Keeping an eye on the chasm of stout in front of me & the other looking in Watching the symphony I play in my head With the man who claims opulence in a skin he calls his ownHe was my Turnicate


If I could be youVulgarity is just a form of maladroit Dearth of thought, lavishly inept Divert your mouth that wafts the zephyr into a flurry Benighted you protract as gale & wheneer my acrimonious timbre crops up through the land Exhausting to deterrent your billow of seemingly bawdy discourse feigned by the world close at hand I watch the rain that wanes throughout your skies become limpid with your imprudent fabrications & the widespread ear simply perceives this simple "abstraction" & the disparagement falls on my loamIf I could be you
you've got great art.
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Hello World
you got great stuff here by the way. i like your poems.
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my forrest nymph, my nymphetamine girl, your glory-of-the-snow eyes do not make your innocence any less ambiguous. forget-me-not, my love.
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