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Free verse....

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posted on May, 20 2015 @ 01:36 PM
Abandon beauty
write riddles
and say yes without speaking
I am the gadget man
I am the peyote man
I am suspended
by the water that cleans.

I could talk to you
the silent poem
riding on an loony balloon
ever higher, ever away

posted on May, 20 2015 @ 03:03 PM
a reply to: olaru12

I Like this!

posted on May, 24 2015 @ 03:59 PM
a reply to: olaru12

gone quiet all past Pluto now
May wears it’s snow with thunder
roll under, I only can

wonder at some purple cloud
louder than my hunger
soft the moment where it lands

I do wonder

my hands smaller in the daylight
art between my eyes
I try to feed a silent poem

that horse begins to rise

edit on 5/24/2015 by Spiramirabilis because: one little word...

posted on May, 25 2015 @ 05:55 PM
Deaf to poetry
Phonograph records
and cityscapes
filled with vagrants
and yellow streetlights.
Brick wall pilgrimage
thru your fear of hell
and build the new Eve
and build the new love
in the stale geometry
the horsemen pass by.

posted on May, 25 2015 @ 06:40 PM
sitting in passerine lately
on the early cold and later rain
pretty she sings sings

to me for me
oh, time funny in the wings
thrush a meadow blooms at dusk
rosy grey

to the day
a world was poppies
far away
and rice

look twice

first monkey new
angels came same as you

with robins

posted on Jun, 2 2015 @ 09:06 PM
Her sitar moves
like a time boat
drawing your soul
thru the eddys of
the little drum.
With poppies
and ganja dreams.

They follow me
all night into the
rooms of lovers
straight thru
imagination's park.

Even Buddha has
no place in this

posted on Jun, 3 2015 @ 05:14 PM
off the drum
roads thumped blind
billows fallen lead
behind and smoke


there will never be
chance or hope
or beats sent back
to hum

unbeat the drum
his eyes are closed

send back the sound
his breath won’t come

fall back, fall back
the battle’s won

little one

posted on Jun, 11 2015 @ 07:55 PM
in rain always between
spots of right as

thistle blue
wants it’s sage
all spikes and handsome

next door out doors
nettle scented
where I spoke
thus spoke

for everything
first times

even second times

posted on Jun, 12 2015 @ 12:31 PM
a reply to: Spiramirabilis

second time the
magnetic storm

brings the ancient
curandera and her
oil of bliss and a
necklace of human

She showed me the
gate of the interzone
where outrageous
abstraction Jazz
used to live.

RIP Ornette
your yellow
plastic alto
helped me to
bop geed
glid nava,
nava hedcatz
Clopo, jago bree
plolo, plolo, bop.....

posted on Jun, 14 2015 @ 11:40 PM
Short trip to Durango
to meet with the
Ft. Louis calls
I remember
"Poor Boys" and
3.2 with a cough
juice chaser and
the false hotels
filled to the brim
with rich Mtn.
hipsters, black chairs,
scratched walls, Herakles
clouds, non angles, primordal glamor,
joy division, sheep or children,
I close my eyes and blink in the
divinity and pain.

posted on Jun, 16 2015 @ 10:02 PM
a reply to: olaru12

badly jazz slowly
haunts our horns
less Jericho than downtown Denver
less downtown than falling walls
ghosts in my gin
bass skin tripping
plum the wine
please plumb the wine
spirits claim the ladies room
male ladies own the stairs
all my nights of playing blue
hunger in Bombay

posted on Jun, 17 2015 @ 08:15 PM
souls of beauty
confound the immortals
Krishna, Krishna
Rama, Rama
soft gusts of
wet air and saffron
Drinking London Pride
from a plastic glass.
I'm an old man now
Will Ginsburg smile
at my folly?

posted on Jul, 1 2015 @ 07:15 PM
wake to realize
dinosaur plans then poetry
on the deck of the Titanic

we must
life is lust and lingering
in our future

qualities betray me
ruby in the morning
mourning the dove

gone missing
blood and bone
and wanting

life under a bridge
the witch conjures
billy goats three

spare us Santa
you can forgo
the Howl, I am

sutra, sutra
mind the time
time my mind

morning comes
while Ginsberg smiles
at icebergs

posted on Jul, 3 2015 @ 11:18 PM
So here we go....
tripping in the magnetic
storm clouds, beyond
the Sandias to the east,
Watermelon mountians
part of the rocky spine
holding the grande
river in its gentle curve.

Today is the day
the day of liberation
I saw her at the store
and didn't say anything.
Quiero mirar no mas

posted on Jul, 11 2015 @ 01:36 PM
sun white clean
bleaching bones in bottled blue
I remember
kettle heavens
simmering thunderheads
gods in the valley
red as war

monument quiet

deep guards
Kachina stronghold

like sleeping on water
bloody mud, head full of sage

the thousand things will find you
and never say your name

edit on 7/11/2015 by Spiramirabilis because: (no reason given)

posted on Jul, 27 2015 @ 08:49 PM
Yeah, we've all heard
that song
What strange pleasure
do we get
from it?
Talk to me in the glittering dark,
Here it comes again,
imagination of myself,
sicker quicker ,
you have what all the others seek,
and we rise again in the summer dawn.

posted on Oct, 15 2016 @ 07:52 PM
all I wanted was for the crows to see me
then not say my name

but they always do

you know how they are
black like a joke against
a slow flock of stars
the not night green blue

they’re waiting for the bats to come
the order of things
to roost

the one next then three
and twenty black birds on a string
away from my sun

who roosts with me knows me

and there they go

I feel no black feathers

like I feel that pea

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