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Santa Claus Does Not Exist

here's a hero in our midst Santa Claus does not exist...
getting caught up in the mix we choose to resist the cosmic twist
My poetry stems from the ambiance of just letting go to things
that the soul would permeate its melodic hold in view of poetic fashion
yesterday we are forced to but heads on this path today we find ourselves in the middle
clever temperate motives spread together of an earthly junction swing
offer me a glass wedding wing these forces seem to come together
poetry that covers all ills I stand on the hard rock radio stage

A Lifetime Mate

I love the tick tok in my ears
dance to its swing 'fore my eyes
wishing that it never does stop

no matter if it's day or is night
it counts every moment pass by
like the pulse of my heart bytes

I sleep to the rhythm of it's beats
watch it wave to me when I wake
feels so good to have this mate

Until Time's End

Until the moon stalls, and the waves freeze,
The Earth shatters and fires tease,
Until gods are forgotten and monsters reign,
Our love will hold.

While we grow old and distant,
With postures sloping and wrinkles dominant,
While we knit and crochet, and breathe our last,
Our love is young.

When you cry out and forget my name
Know that my feelings will remain the same,
When you’re sick, or sad, or tired again,
Our love lives on.

My Sylvia Thing

just because your dead
doesnt mean we aren't dating anymore
like you would have dated me
dead or alive
yet i am haunted

you humming
so we must have chemistry
or am i interminably obsessed
like a ghostly house

your poems
had there way with me
like a strip tease
and soft slipping fingers squeezing
making little red veins hemorrhage
like a thick scum intravenous drip
rumbling down a phantom cock


Two years gone honey;
All I have left is a photo of you and me,
In this cell beaming to the sky,
From this concrete remorse cry.

But our lives look so perfect on a picture
Now we'll admit we rue the texture.
The perfection of a carbonated print staring,
From scrawny memories, aged from youthful glee
Highlights the chemical we were lacking
As we plunged the fertile branches from our family tree.

Now Second Lease of Life

Who Says It's the End -
It is winter here
my Dear

My wife's widowed friend
decided to go

she had been admitted
to an ICU
by her son
who sent me so many messages
save my mommy
do come

I sent him an sms
I had met with an accident
hurt myself all over
how can I come.

My spouse kicked me
get up you are not yet dead
she is dying
save his only mommy

I can't I yelled
she was not happy


The Invisible Cities

We had met in the Invisible Cities, the subterranean janus mask the miserabilist civilization hides. We had felt the dawn's chambers rouge our cheeks with jade grafts, as if the sun itself was scarred tissue meant only to pass in combed insterices rippling in transits of shadow. She handed, in corked amphibian intercourse, a room key lit from by a homeless man given silk swallowing swords aflame for a moment, giving us coins from his lids watering with the River Styx's restless current to live nicely for awhile.

Ode of I

Weary am I now
for this thing called life has not been kind
weary am i now
I'm about to lose my mind

Troubled am I now
so burdened down by thought
troubled am I now
This battle to survive, no longer can it be fought

pained am I now
bye malicious, calculated actions
pained am I now
cornered by my fears, stunned by my reactions

escape for me now
would bring about welcome release
escape for me now
would bring about much needed inner peace


Waiting in the still interior:
A bulwalk against sleet grey
You are busy, or idle inferior
While indifferent nature preys

On all that flies, crawls or floats
And the concert of life continues
Against all the pale clear notes
Of an echo of rain that issues

From a rust iron sky, which creaks
And waits to break into something
That pitters or patters finding leaks
On innumerable sheds that ring

I'M NOT SEXTING YOU ,,,sexual content

sexting you

that kind of man
i really never think about such things
and deplore that behavior in my male counterparts
really its disgusting

i never look at your face
and never think
what would it be like to kiss you
to kiss your ass
your drooly pert pussy
to be your foot slave
geisha boy
sticky pink
full a joy
boy toy


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