Love
increases, this luxurious creature, made perfect by losses: our arms to
courage, our minds to fair memories, if but our souls to phone calls: or
detached sorely, imbued with anger, as one walks their tomb: at casual
reference, spoiled by sorrow, but catching a glimpse from time to mirror: as
mental creatures, sensing disjunct(s), or searching for freedom: our tragic
voyage, pegs upon bolts, our core roots damaged by poisoned dreams: our ivy
with syrup, our ivory with promise, at realization this life as quadroon: our
mulatto fathers, our angry mothers, where men understand resentment: such
bulbous eyes, such carnival feelings, our homes floundering equity: those
remote cries, as senseless for strangers, but hearts yearn for normal realities:
our souls at union, our union fluttered by truffles, or days so sullen our
minds are ruthless: those few friends, those invitations, our crucial horizon:
as women saunter, big bundles of laughter, where an instant second speaks to
disaster. Love decreases, if but
buried in oak, as one distinguishes between rational obsessions: that crevice
of ants, those indigenous turtles, or those domesticated platypuses: our
parrots seeking advice, while torn with silence, while puppies vie for
attention: as but to listen closely, our pampering souls, our bellies scratched
and rubbed: our inner opera, those soothing voices, our kittens deep beneath
our beds: to dig for hearts, laughing for critical, our crucial for pains: our
livid lamps, our minds at intuitions, to read a bit curious concerning
intention: those abandoned feelings, made worse by motives, where all we need
is a little shine: those bolts upon pegs, this thrust to pavement, our sketches
screaming with fires: at local parks, peering at squirrels, a smidgen concerned
with rabies: if but those concerns, proven as irregular, would time persist in
love? …you’re smart like foxes, a bit
extreme, and gifted by experience: you’ve played in mire, you’ve mirrored
mother, and you have sentimentalities for stepfather: you possess a few
friends, you sing in acapella, and you’ve become resilient: you’re countenance
screams at nonsense, you roll eyes when irritated, and others are able to sense
your cries: this world of primates, this thing with grooming, while you
specialize in heartfelt reciprocation: you’re a dependable friend, you sound
out syllables, and you possess an iambic spirit: our formative years, becoming
something unique, while listening to crickets afar: these solemn times, those
solemn messages, as thoughts massage our solemn instincts: our gifts, Beloved,
to address assassination, to inform our cores, to laugh when under pressure:
this unbelievable suggestion, to insist upon love, where years have spoken by
absence: those tales untold, this movie in deliberation, or nights seated at
edges: a solemn tear, or miscommunication, where a father must love mother:
this true tale, this whale by facts, while some prefer to maintain distance:
such critical pain, such crucial vibes, while swans need something normal…. …we sense something sweet, we ignore
something feudal, we side with souls despite such circumstance: we pick through
berries, while some are spoiled, we cleave to those few at our souls: this man
with issues, this family with deep wrenches, our realities a wretched song: but
why for mirrors, when something is blatant, where palms point at a deep
distraction: our welts with salami, our breads with cheese, our memories
conditioned by self-interests: at musical redemption, to shed passion through
prayers, while turning from habits seems irregular: this praxis of thieves,
this selfish empire, our grown, adult children: but yours becomes Infinity, and yours becomes tension,
while education might enhance proclivities: that 3rd eye language,
this 6th sense mentality, while numerology becomes intriguing: to
move towards an exit, to adore genetics, while sensitive to certain behaviors:
our days seeking perfection, at little concern for strenuous undertakings, while
miracles require difficult work: to seize with time, this mental giraffe, or so
beneath layers we dig ourselves to freedom….
