
I tiptoe around this, my d r e a m garden as you undress my thoughts with d e f t hands a bright blue M o o n just won’t stop shining even as the t i m e comes to w a k e u p
scribbles
I tiptoe around this, my d r e a m garden as you undress my thoughts with d e f t hands a bright blue M o o n just won’t stop shining even as the t i m e comes to w a k e u p
/ forgetful regretful a mindful path of multi-storied v e r s e s / searching for liminal s p a c e s observing those pondering f a c e s * . . . o p p o n e n t s aware contenders— beware of those doubtful intentions unspoken d i s s e n t i o n s . . . sketched on damp paper— and never aired * / forgetful regretful a mindful path of multi-storied v e r s e s / searching for liminal s p a c e s fierce like assonant traces you can now view— though I n e v e r b a r e d
I often get lost in your canvas p a l a c e My hands all dirty with old p a i n t What’s the colour of your dreams? I d a r e a s k Yet you never utter a single w o r d So I strive to find my answer in ink s k e t c h e s * I often get lost in your canvas p a l a c e My hands all dirty with old p a i n t What’s the colour of your dreams? I d a r e a s k Those undecipherable ink s t r o k e s Paint pirouettes that won't tell any t a l e s * My dreams are sometimes coloured y e l l o w — with a dash of b l u e — Your eyes closed, while I get lost in the true opacity of those abstract i m a g e s So I let all shades sink in— colouring your reverie back to r e a l i t y
She yearned to become a spy yet she failed so miserably She walked the long walk and dressed in hued tones She hushed the sharp tongues and asked for bad karma For those that would play her— the good ones obeyed her Lila yearned to become a spy yet she failed so miserably She wore her dark shades, unravelled dark plots / with feline intention and birdlike precision / Yet her wings she did not want to get w e t So she’d run under cover on rainy days It was always warmer by that fireplace She yearned to become a spy— Yet she failed so miserably
dreams are dreams— these dreams of m i g h t as night becomes a subtle b l i n d for storming ears and fears of d e a t h and silent smiles and rightful s t a r e s I sing I sigh I dream— We d r o w n those dreams red nights a subtle c r y and dreams are dreams— those dreams, t o n i g h t will end the affair, and cover, m i g h t You sing You sigh You dream— We d r o w n these dreams, such dreams, this s u b t l e b l i n d
shake things up shake things down shape things wild a n d b o x t h e m i n right or wrong it’s all t h e y ’ v e b e e n * they’ve seen g r e y they’ve seen b l a c k , demure shades— a field of d r e a m s right or wrong it’s all t h e y ’ v e s e e n * now, and then, been... ...and seen, tonight, grey worlds, be come s w e e t d r e a m s
D r D u r m u m , little women's army splatter walls— dressed in war face p a i n t magic hands can turn out wonders, now they're sleeping— shan't be awoken y e t close the shutters, no light streaming— they deserve a darkened dreaming b e d D r D u r m u m , little women's army— splatter walls dressed in war face p a i n t
dissuading fears like there’s no t o m o r r o w assuaging nuages— those dreams u n f o l d contorting smiles unseen to t d h a g y i l there’s no room left for dreams of O L G D
Smoking French poetry whore cigarettes o n e, a f t e r t h e o t h e r i wet my lips, i puff— frail particles of d i f f u s e d s m o k e S d u n m e r u r o i bat my eyelids, i stare away. and puff— o n e a f t e r t h e o t h e r still no words, yet i perceive some d a r k v e r s e s m o k e has subtly embraced — p o s s e s s e d — my f e a t h e r e d d r e a m s and, while i type a widowed v e r s e — for a poem i may have dreamed— but will never, in ink, b i r t h smoking French poetry whore cigarettes o n e, a f t e r t h e o t h e r a drunken song waltzes around i n m y h e a d “they’re not good for you. he’s not good for you. stop wasting y o u r b r e a t h a w a y remember— smoking ain’t good for the l i v i n g .” i n h a l e. e x h a l e. s m o k i n g o n e , a f t e r t h e o t h e r a subtly s o o t h i n g d a r k , s m o k e d v e r s e e s m e m e b c r a