Royal purple
Royal purple
Would you, even now
in all your purple,
stubbornness's
agree, that mouths much
so familiar and yes, you know
should have checked the beggar
at the door, of screams.
Blackboard shrillness,
breaks the chalk, a loud males voice
is in the wrong,
trembles exhumation to unfold,
the hoped for dream.
The liars island, holds the dying, walk upon the tears of sand,
libeling the same cut tail, over and over again.
While the sea gulls eat whats left.
poem by Is It Poetry
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Dad Thanks Again
It is thirteen years today
since you sent me on the
home depot mission
gone only twenty minutes
well thanks for not shooting
me when you turned that
shotgun on your self it was hard
getting the Catholic priest
to give you mass
but you are situated proper now
not burning hot inside the box as you thought.
Thanks for your car, condo, stocks, bonds, most of
all thanks for paying off those credit cards before.
I grew up to be just like you....well almost.
poem by Is It Poetry
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Practice in practice is
Words lost ethical reconsecration in
appeasing to split a judges decision.
Words arranged pick truths digestion
like writing poetry watching television.
Words cannons rule laws working into
masks to blame forgives poor in sight.
Words ease pain words part troubles
words fog a bank rivers to lose against.
Words infuse the confused purpose lent
to raise a level of practise in fresh breath.
Word levels life spent reaching all words
since words all spent still am I reaching into.
poem by Is It Poetry
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Happy Little Poo Ting Noises
if i listen to all your voices
plotting juicy gossip
how can i explain insanity to you
unless
you knew you were insane long
before we met
it is true then as
one less voice joined
the others
i heard examples
opposite from one another
about bubbles floating in
humor magical noises
spice appearing leaving
quickly
musical notes tune rubbed
as silk between
two pieces of soft stock
to hear to see
to smell laughter
[...] Read more
poem by Is It Poetry
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Wings Of Fair-Hair
August is the origin in us it rises.
The sky of song of the cicada, watch the sun.
Clear wings of fair-hair she has left undone,
with heat by the falls around us.
Sand crane of the dunes hoovering.
Left, us it' which is felt.
So it is heavy and heavy it is So, it is.
Emptied the grip which should be broken off freely, it.
And that you must be settled,
August because it is short than exact.
By September her journey' It has arrived.
Cicada's exacted simply,
from the ground, At the time of her sun.
poem by Is It Poetry
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Under The Grass
I look out at you
over the open blue sky
growing dark
when the sun
like an orange
what a ball
it glows red
and turning to you
saying i say
to you
i do not know
the sea
today
how the wind blows
will it blow
for me to speak
it says
and saying you say
as you want
me to say and we stay
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poem by Is It Poetry
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evil
Evil, is to hunt 'you.'
smell you.
Nameless is 'EVIL.'
EVIL, ...unawakened
slides inside 'invited'.
Out of reach, TOUCHED
bloated within your womb.
EVIL, sweats you out, in taste
reaching down you check.
Trembles, hand in night, is to
dawns wasted light, in wait
sucking you inside, to rest.
EVIL was it, 'you'it's eye to
weep 'milky'you hunger, it.
EVIL, will not wait, forever on you to
reach down, close the fold, it's now.
[...] Read more
poem by Is It Poetry
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Burst Your Face, Did He
Do not let it fall unto the ground.
Do not wast it, drink it all.
Drink all the purple light.
Purple, white or yellow light instead?
The further out I go I swim in haze.
The closer in you come.
Tell me your name.
Should America die full of such strong woman.
Schizophrenic yet I see.
Purple, yellow hued,
one or two are blue,
black and white the pearls around your neck.
The woman music makes the madness claims.
Your love for him that when he came your face.
I saw it burst into the colors, I above described.
poem by Is It Poetry
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Pink Pearl Necklace
Pink Pearl Necklace; and heaven is this,
My island an afterthought mornings glow
and pink sands where coral waves grow.
Happy are the clams every night as pink
sand washes them in your dreams.
Under water so clear I sometimes forget
and stay to long listening to the waves
sing your pink song.
Drifting with the currents of sleep pearls of
yours pink, slip out from beneath my hand.
Filaments permeate the strings of your
dreams leaving me behind on a pink pearl
necklace on this island yours made of dreams.
poem by Is It Poetry
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Scar of Scars
Scar of Scars.
Around the cut, some are smooth.
Moist and true.
Bereft of moss or beard.
Pie faced and candy..ooh.
Every life savers.
Candy cake is brandy wine.
More, many more and edgy.
Leafy rims pink petaled.
Sharp razors, just more sweat and juicy.
Either way it's coming in,
Through the floor.
and your consciousness is expanded.
Red faced and over the clouds the moon
does look closely down,
and Scar of Scars, dropps drippy more milky.
There is only one cup from every one, some
have two and being with certain preference's.
poem by Is It Poetry
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