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KREME

filled with pillowcloud delicious
the candy smiles are canine fresh
you restless beast in your wander
slaughter
wear your haughty draught plowing
ice like the breaker
of hearts that wound with words
of wire Your quite the taker
and how our Brule treason
will show its season
this brokebone reason
and we fuck away our lives
banging ghosts in the lark
standing by our frozen
souls like statue puppets
to the dark
we are thin skinned
like dark tree bones
standing at the park
this common death
shall find the weepers
grave and make me
want
you should have stayed
my greediness a parlance
to the chance of luck
we didnt care at all
for any of that ruck

Editing stage: 

Comments

exotic hearthanded tensile
done in a style
for haters thrones
and lovers stones

this IS about florrid exhultation
a passion driven fury
that drunk taste black
that never kisses back

I have been in depths of
the land of Lah
and met the creatures
draped with shawl
their prayer in careful
whispered drawl

she is the sweet

author comment

filled with pillowcloud delicious
the candy smiles are canine fresh
you restless beast in your wander
slaughter
wear your haughty draught plowing
ice like the breaker of hearts
that wound with words of wire

Your quite the taker
and how our Brule treason
will show its season
this brokebone reason

and we fuck away our lives
banging ghosts in the lark
standing by our frozen
souls like statue puppets to the dark

we are thin skinned
like dark tree bones
standing at the park
this common death
shall find the weepers
grave and make me want

you should have stayed
my greediness a parlance
to the chance of luck
we didnt care at all
for any of that ruck

I want more to the ending it doesn't end for me!
Do we forgive your spelling? Ploughing.
I re-arranged to read it excuse me.

How I LOVE these words:-

"banging ghosts in the lark

standing by our frozen

souls like statue puppets to the dark"

Your criss-cross of words
that turn us thís way that way,
tumbling our minds like jesters
through a turmoil of thoughts
again I use the word surrealist
and revel in its multitude of meanings
revealed by your versatile mind
Steven. Ann.

"The image of yourself which you see in a mirror Is dead,
but the reflection of the moon on water, lives." Kenzan.

i used house paint and old pressboard sheets
of four by eight feet from snowmobile shipping
crates a freind had
then I painted a portrait on a fifties small
fridge door laying about the rez in the recycle
heap And on a board that was used for
skinning beaver pelts circular and with
the multitude of nail holes about its edge
another portrait in basic colours
all were crude and I loved them for it
the approachability of these rough hewn
works were inspiring for me like folk art
My poetry for me is the same
but I know in my heart that I must
further it by spelling correctly

author comment
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