[Untitled]

Here it is,
Everything once calm
Shooting down
Flames of fixtures that sit and split
Into two separate beings.
Non-human, this body of ridged cotton feelings
Keeps on flopping on the structures of music and rhymes.
Forward, always, scooping up fragrant sparkles
And looping fingers through
Stretchy springs.
Collapsing and tugging
At the depth of high morality.
Scribbles of happiness falls
On heavy wet leaves, green, crisp
From the sun’s warm rays,
Touching the face of something great.
Two plus pages to let out
all this special, marvelous calling.
The calling to just
be
me.
Open up those shut, starched eyes,
Open them wide.
Plastic and stride.
No rhymes, because
Running out of time.
Struggling to finish
This diminished
Plushy perspective.
Fritz the anxiety
That melts into continuality.
Don’t judge these precious calls.
The calling to just
be
me.
Whap, then slap
Parched throats,
and soak all that marinating pleasure.
Funny noise from outside,
Exasperating giggles
Swell up in this
Four-walled-room
Into a great balloon
To fly straight up
Into that winking blue sky.
Shadows face sun kisses
And beat up all fly-ball misses.
Womping, arting, solfling.
Made-up words to carry through
Loads and
loads and
loads
of phew!
Thank goodness!
One exclamation mark!
Then two emerge!!
Give in three, so they can flee!!!
Now, four, before they escape!!!!
Finally five, so weakness can learn to look alive!!!!!
Fear swishing down that futile
Well of hell.
Keep it going,
Keep it flowing,
Keep it growing.
Distraction of the white mist
Shirt
That alerts what the sun dial
Has to say.
Leaning on tree posts,
Bed-throws,
And salt toes.
Taste the space
Between
Teeth that graze
Sparks bomb this world of spit and song.
Random red
Spripes ahead.
Look out so life won’t wed
The pills and thrills
Of tomorrow.
The calling to just
be
me.
To be free
From burdening fails.
Flapping shiny wings
Float on the width of the clouds.
So damn proud!
Like what is willed,
From the flutter of exciting frills.
Covering up life in pink, brown, and orange
Patterned flowers.
Everything situated,
Yet shifting
FORWARD.