Clearly post-op

A fizzled physical
state attained by
a murder.

The strength of hope
is answered as dressed
in cold men.

When rest is love
Women cry alive.




Malevolent treatment

Savoury feelings corrected
interested as nothing for
her.

She died with one hope.
And she made hope a home.



Scoured dark as drugs

I feared that you would
answer my call with a
holy dark fist

made for me.

It is not good to increase
one place for one action.

Sincerity can dream .

Visibility calls for a
vowel.

Many of my creations are
inert.




A revival.

Places to greet
one at a time

where and how
and who.

See to love;
I learned to buy feelings.



One time only.

Paris Goddess is seer.
Sophisticated with a
woman's play of charades.





Impatience

A sound with no creative construction
A dirt man who sexualized strong hopes
A field where life kindly intrusts causes

Malay rice bowls are needed to keep anger
same for this village.



Afghan was there

The field interested the safety of
one middle aged cold pulled rose.

I called there in order.
I made a fairly greedy death.

Belated times are climbing up
and saying what they can teach.





Self addressed

Beer just glides on the table.
I am dying to know why it changed.

Vodka is beneficial as a
colonial mechanism for safety.

A field for barley
immediately calls tom home.




Poem for love

Eat your osterity
It's kind of sexy.



I love to feel

A painful yet knowledgeable interest in gold.
Yes change is another example to me of fire.

Sexuality is client for a maid.

I frowned upon one woman.

She was me living as a hell .



Minerva's cold.

Physical interests in no one
resembles -- teach me you.


Voice

Political and rhetorical
Amazing for mother.

I did say one is straw.

I answer and am pall.

Quizzed for dearth.



Passion's abundance.

Keep to one person.
Say: live.

Another time?



A polished reader
And then safety

showers of composite graphite and steel

I don't know what missiles are made of these days.


It sure is good that Khadafy is stymied. Of course, so are we.

Deal is tribal, is drugged, is galore.

I think life has tried to understand what love can dream of and now I try to live.

Feeling like coldness is me. Feeling like RMM called me a (haole) oh, that's what I called her.

Foolish.

A train is creating money for hate.

I am strong to read.,

As you live, you are flying.



A passage toward a rose.

I walk for cost.

I like ponies.

A good lover is being (DCM)

Calvary was money.

I enjoyed a dark sovereign.

She is mother.

Caution -- a rest and a client are being loving because of home.

I climbed to preach hope.

Now I must struggle.

Tell JBM that she needs running toward a mother (pagan).

Marooned with a dried change.





Delectable.



Julia growed for zeta -- a rose.

Denial of sunday.

Boy,is this crazy?

.Blipa bligga malooneu farianiachazianar

Goddess prostituted hopes and love

I was sexy

Life is a balow mother -- a way to think
(crop of strong whore)

Another way of saying this:

calexio maniacal collecto political manilio

Abraxia Selexia Conoctia around whore


See me feeling strong? I'm a cold bitch

Another way of saying this:

a cop is free of whore. A mother is like a harvard (harsh con)

Two tailed thinking: One goes one way, the other goes to pain.

I like it.

Darkness is cruel and I alive to say whore cold when pain is money.

-- And: hope.

Metropolis

Gay throngs ambling down boulevards
Direct queer salutes to admirers in fashionable attire

Joy and pleasure animate happy crowds of all nations
Buildings and streets resound with fabulous songs and chants

The city celebrates its freedom as friendly harmony prevails;
Affection bursts all bounds; love streams into awareness.

The passions of life culminate with an embrace of past, present and future
Manifestations of Nature's luminous beauty.

Delicate sentiment and powerful expression dare to converge with
Sublime congregation of individuals.

The guardians of music and dance spread their fine blossoms
Through the exultant populace.

Visions come alive and Dreams awake.

Hope

Dangers of liking love:

You might feel like there's hope

You might love yourself

You might be happy

You might love others


Hope

I need a change

I need a change from life and death, from life or death.

I gave answers.

I was patient.

I loved life.

I want to grieve suffering. It is terrible to be cold. It is not happy to strive for money.

I am seeking a way to live.

Plays for drugs are painful.

Gold love is foolish.

I know that I can listen. I know that you are talking and being good. I want to love feelings not be cold.

Please listen: I am crossed from being poor. The reason for good is to be yourself.

I like being home.

I hope you will listen because I am sister for hope.

A lover of peace

Bum Back

The caring (I nearly wrote, "guilt") that is present is slime?

I don't care about change if it makes love cold.
I think I feel life is draining me.
("Strength") -- Pal is husband.

The next deal with political freedom is to direct poems.

I literally caved on the Goddess.
She paid me ("what?") and I liked it.

Beth called me free; I liked it.

Distress with my fuss is my knowledge.

I write so cryptically when there's so little to feel about hell.

Be a man/woman/drug addict/cold sufferer/dying fog/passionate moron

Say this:

"I want to listen to my genital home."

Say:

"I want to pretend life is fried for trees."

Say again:

"I want to be free."



Golden freedom is best when swallowed as a powerful stream by mouth (let go of shame)
My joy is anchored with the priest.

Marlowe/Marsha/Marjorie/Marge/Margarine/Marron

Oh mother,
Pain is cold and training is Jesus.
A ride with a drug (luck for the dead) is life to teachers

Whims are undressed; a life for a mother.

Paganism: worlds of mother: 1/2 of life is terrible, 1/2 of life is dreaming
You feel like change is to share kindness.
You know love is under will to be strong.

I ask life for strength and darkness wants bargains.


See what a martyr caused.

Bananas,collected.

I way away away away
I manner matter leer cluster stuff me
Plow under the tailed acrylic woman
She said it.

Dexter ambient, annealed, afraid
Omen toad: lick your lips for face.
A mentored narcotic bang.

I like doing freedom as dressed in frilly colliding parading straws.



The limousine to my asylum is waiting.
Sex is teaching.

To women: it's okay, to feel strong to feel like I do.

Save it.

Hate equals love, judged.

I hate my friends for being strong when I'm a fool and a crackhead and a shit.

I love them for being messy for themselves: me thinking of why.

Love your daughter.

Love your neighbor.

Love your dreams.

A "supposition": my brother wanted me to FEEL like a bitch.

I need his love.

He is running to suffering.

I must stop hating.

I love life; I love home; I love the Goddess. I am not suffering (drugs).

(I give) Shit for safety.

Ask to grow to life.

What I'm not saying: coldness is death. I brought my hatred of suffering to pain.

I must not feel afraid.

Safety is pain.

I must remember that I am chasing cruelty because it makes me share love with night.

What is night?

Poem of darkness is teaching life to myself.

I growed.

Live and be your gold.

Be your hopes.

Be your friend,who is love.

Men are good. I am happy for that.

I like the freedom that I dreamed of.

Yes I do give love to feelings.

I live to be me, who is mother of crown.

Being good to love. Being good to change. Being a mass of coldness (pain, doubt, fear). I love hopes for home.


Religion makes me feel like hostess.

I was deaf to men.

I was deaf to love.

Now I need hope.

List lust lost.

Ahh, March!

What a promising month March is.

Here in the S.E. of Arizona we are having record high temperatures in the upper 70s. My angiogram was "normal." I will be going to a local writer's group in a few days. I've found myself understanding my mother a little better and have declared a break from everyday contact with someone who may not have my best interests at heart. His ex (who introduced me to him) likes my poetry. I believe I understand what it is I am trying to get from and give to men (and others). Now I just need to find something to do with my life, and be prepared for being on my own somewhere some day.

My injections are in abeyance while I wait to discuss my chest pains, which apparently are not cardiac, with my primary care doctor, a very attentive man who seemingly does little. I picked up a pack of cigarettes yesterday before getting another copy of the AZ drivers' manual. I've been in near constant contact with people (everywhere but this town) and I've had a record number of notifications on Facebook tonight (4!).

So apparently my mind is working, and my body is not too bad, either (heh!). I suppose I ought to enjoy the moment.

You know, of course, that Plato would have banned poets from his Republic, yet there are so many interrelations between poetry and philosophy that I would like to become more aware of and use in my writing. Both deal with De Res Natura [???] -- the nature of things. Both are adjuncts in my mind (tools) to heighten sensitivity to spiritual issues. (At least my spiritual issues). What is life? How is it lived? How do the dark and bright aspects of existence combine and influence one another? How is it that the common pursuits of humanity -- the pursuit of happiness -- have resulted in the pervasive conflicts among us? What is desire, and what place does it have in our lives? Etc.

I have become more in touch with my own will, CEG may be pleased to know, and probably RMM as well. There is beauty in determining what one desires to accomplish, which for me, if I can try to remember what I decided, has to do with being alive. I truly hope that the promise of these March days will reach fruition in spending my days in a worthwhile and happy fashion.

Next: Spring (Ostara).

P.S. I am hopeful that there will be beauty in your lives that will sustain you through the Wheel of the coming year.