Uneasy Atmosphere

…too subtle to chance, too liquidated to dance, and God knows!—at loosened tendencies, at bricks mourning, at mother a bit dry: our gray horizon, seated and thinking, where goblins appear as shadows: those blue-hazels, those green-limes, while pacing uncontrollably: this last glass, as knowing aforetime, while spent for glory: our natural froes, our forks for combing, our fists to skies: those political vines, those political times, plus, that political mercy: to see an epithet, and die that language, while so forgiving cooking royal nightmares: this losing frenzy, this coming back, while worshiped by uneasiness: that inner drilling, this thrust through life, to plead that palm for assistance: as noticed a scent, this palatial atmosphere, while cornered by proprieties: as souls unravel, to ski skies, or found tripping into mud slides: our square mountains, our square atmosphere, our clouds as plaintiffs: to giggle a bit, to languid our roles, where one day freaks a whole nation….     …too much of us, too much of them, as plain just too much!—our trenchant deep darkness, as opposed to good waves, while daily we wrestle this floating gavel: those treacherous years, to envelope such treachery, while redeemed from seconds to minutes—as changing zeroes, and plighted with woes, at similar behaviors searching for different outcomes: our shoulders roughly, our brains maneuvering, at team-shares cursing: our bunnies looking morbid, our chocolate stars crying, while life has erased ambitions: to fiddle a box, this metaphorical night-gaze, where arts sing about travesties: this uneasy existence, this deep anxiety, this unconformable converse: this paradise, alas, a bit sarcastic, and those crosses tattooed: our blank music, while others are dancing, and seeking access: our death-diamonds, those indestructible prayers, while reaching numen ears: indeed, fully at faith, clumping bluegrass, and running through interior forests: this uneasy easiness, this casual difficulty, this common sophistication: as more to life, this tread of penchants, those wistful galaxies: as pensive monsters, and churning in circles, to associate thoughts with reality: such cursed rewards, while petting our demons, to evaluate this existence—where life is home-base, and reality but an extension, while filters are looking at parents: this distorted image, this textured process, or those elated exercises: our minds as flawless, but interrogation is faulty, and compasses are missing essentials: our dreams as sightless, to engulf darkness, to feel light: this trickling lake, those dried lagoons, or those frogs leaping and translucent….     …we chance relaxation, or forge our castles, standing aside seashores: that large white bird, this rich intensity, those calm waves: as soothing with lights, at turquoise overtures, while stippling our symphony: our deficits languish, our hours dance, where souls are shifting, easiness is spotted, and life feels indifferent….

…kindness is uneasy, harshness is uneasy, and love is heavy: a few claims for existence, our premises are experience: this indebted anvil, this want for intimacy, while requiring a taste of freedom: or something unusual, this deep comfort, while needing this existence: our California waves, our Down South courtesies, and our Northern competitiveness: those frozen feelings, as eating their interiors, where one seems angry: those truths unto tears, those tears as rinsing hurt, while angry that such matters still persist: our needs outwitting our morals, our souls outweighing diplomacies, while our airs deceive our masses: this touch of humanness, those inner notebooks, or that ornament of sorrow: to reach through mire, to dance with terrors, while forced to rekindle daily: such ember flickering, such horror insistent, while chancing freedom….