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http://www.northography.com/responses.php?stimulus_id=251
JULY FLAKED OPENING
Posted by General Malaise on 07/31/2011
Here is my fake smile. God to God
who, saw into places like what's behind the seats of this Angel’s ballpark.
You who was watching out for dog chasers or for what Strings together a home run ball
now you left me running down the sidewalk, alone, you can still sit with me any time or awhile, later
in Life when I drink, and laugh if when Dad did or didn't get up
nice one ok the jokes over now get up...
(Did It Yourself, DIY,n't ya) thinking
to set up in the checkers seats, you think
I brought me a son to the ballpark to play with on in that way
a Hotday flaked off made a fool of everyone,
with my youth clouds and rain
rain washed on your face, running down.
There is no food to touch on that day, I remembered
just your cracked lips from the drink I’ve handed him.
Swallowing just made the U.S.A.., in the molten seas
door prizes the gags are funny, now
as prayer promises me for those old and sick are easier to believe.
Here is a boy, who named Me once, called me a smile in High C,
who would to you also make
All the WORLDS chests to ache, close all those best things
Whose in so many partials as thoughts are worn out.
I cringe where you go to the loudest places you’ve ever been alone
something you set out to do on your own, saying I can't breathe In or outside your old country home, sooo American,
in those places nobody else can see,
I too was passing away, once
back at the blue sky in that mile marker, of a fading flag
So practiced was I
laughing on and on and on over the tearing
listening to your dancing insides,
to a bouncer who just got named,
the easy mile madness to say upon me rests
hoped bones flung afar in its Faked opening.
Stop over to the yards in Virginia,
who are just towering to Clouds, whose in His corners ships are building, the Summers left squinting
hanging any of her tangled hair in my eyes,
the frontal bow
she has gripped my handle hard
as fooseball, my yes
my yes
are telling they can better than anyone where its shots going.
So over and over,
high tides are over.
across the dying waves I am dreaming
Over there to you on Earth in my deck chair
old stanza over takes me, now with my last
Electric slide took me to wood blocks, I pick
Or thrust the organ pedals apart
Kick between you and search knots to hold
The grey granite sounds close in and around
The pretty World in space of a battled ship Calisp.
Here is Virgina- flower!
you there covered - floor me
and blow into her to chase me, she likes me, in Paris
Dusting in the forest – and useless – I stand alone there.
If you are playing o’er thar a sand bottom or sand bank
she blows to me
a white lili in the afternoon
and If you are listening you now will
Still and still be thar sitting up in your cot.
Chasing her,
escaped to leave here, her
Floats down the silvery drain
failed in healing - Its barely white...
was her and milks the sails
have covered her barely and wet
We all went to sink with.
She is me, asking do you fend off the sea
Or does if feed off your Salvaged years (my own dead reckoning).
My hurting sunset eye bleeding into her
Always painting back to places as Greece like nothing can.
As white as a favoring wind, a high C blows
The pan flute scour and blanket your flower I am back to hold your craft and pull you to me.
Flesh of mine, your cotton white, dresses the heat amid a hot summer nights dreaming over and over
She is a ship I sank into.
TO CHAIN OR NOT
Posted by General Malaise on 07/25/2011
I've crushed against it until the slam of it cracked it off the frame
secretly made plans underneath to an afternoon's pitter patter
eyes made my shaped cokeglasses warbling down the floor.
she, who was so surprised to hear it- locked me into twisting the claim
when- she asked me, was I a crush for her?
a little afraid,
to stand to answer her
so there instead
as merely friends, _ Big time you are!...
wow. too much i said and
much still stays in the widening
left open.
