If I Keep On Going
Tending Until Full Season, Will It Release
A Spell, A Crooked Scar Of Lightning,
A Slightly Poisonous Kiss,
And Awaken The Vivid Maiden From Her
Voyeuristic Crypt,
Because I’ve Cast The Dice So Many Times,
And Tumbled Down The Stairs,
I’ve Procured The Better Half Of The Wishing
Bone,
And I’ve Lined Up Army Men In Honor Of
Her,
But Is It More Likely That I’ve Run Out Of
Important Letters,
Vowels Dripped Until The Sheets Are Wet
Spotted,
Coins Of Wishing Cluttering Up The Well,
Echoing Without Recall,
Undoubtedly I’ve Said So Much, I’ve
Run Against Myself Sleeping,
Drooling On My Sleeve,
While She Nimbly Takes His Hand And Sails
Out Across The Hall:
I’ve Said So Much Before I Understood
I Shouldn’t Say Anything At All

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Mother Thinks There’s Something Wrong
Around My Eyes,
She Should Know, Its Her Heredity:
Too Much Caffeine And No Sleep,
Bad Poetry, Rhymes-
I’ve Been Hibernating In A Well Of Hallucination,
Now Look At My Shadow Swing Across The
Wall, Like It Did In Kindergarten,
It Is The Only Thing That Is Real.
I Am Reading Auden, Six-Hundred Pages
Is Not Easy, So Intermittently I Ejaculate
On A Green Towel, On A Cloud,
And Ask The Simple Colony Of Gods Which Sting
And Eat Their Own, If Rimbaud Wasn’t
Real, But One Of Them, And Verlaine A Kind Of
Courting Thrill, The Way The Sunlight Might Often
Fall But Only When A Body Is Alone,
Reckless And On Mowed Grass, Insects As Azure
As The Bottom Of Airplanes Exploring The Sky.
A Glass Of Coffee Between My Legs, This Little
Dog Wet From The Thundershower Which Broke
The Horses Until They Trampled Over Arrowheads
I Stole And Gave To Her.
Too Many Of My Poems Use The Second Person
Pronoun To Be Anything But Helplessly Amateur,
But If The Roses I Bought For You Are Still In The
Infant’s Vase Upon The Window Sill,
They Have Turned Brown For Such Awhile.

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Palindromes And Paramours Walk Back
And Forth In The Night,
Tell Each Other Secrets, Kiss:
Floods Of Bicycles Suddenly Speed By Like
Schools Of Wheeled Fish:
They Are Having A Race, Slick Like
A Dream, Ready As A Coffin:
Two Girls Say They Should No Longer Make
Love, Even Though They Are Ready.
Underneath The Palms They Fail,
And That Is Where They Are Still…. Making Love.
Though, My Children Are Behind A
Red Aquarium, Sleeping On The Couch-
I Haven’t Touched Them Since Their Mother
Turned Into An Eel And Swam Wisely In Our
Bedroom With Another Man:
Now Their Fingerprints Glow Forensically On
The Inside Of My Skull.
There Is A Serial Killer In California Who Is
Seven Foot Tall,
And Today I Am Drunk And Out Of Work,
And Sleeping Under An Overpass Where The Cars
Proceed Like Vaporous Waves,
Commuters From High School Laugh Toothily
In The Air-Condition And Fart Self-Consciously:
Outside The Park, There Are Tools In The Work Shed,
And Games To Play Till Dark,
And The Pet Rabbit Sleeps In The Owl’s Lap,
Who Is Well-Sated And Cheerful, And All
Around Us They Are Singing Of Peace, All The
Women Are Beautiful, All The Children Blonde-
There Is No Reason To Be Fearful,
And Its Time To Move On

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 Amazing & Funny Photos

Mil Bant Ke Khana To Koi Inse Sikhe Portrait Made With Coffee Beans And Mugs Awesome Rainbow Rose Beautiful White Peacock. Toilet Shaddow Art Re-Use Of Waste Materials In An Innovative Way Khas Bando Ke Liye Khas Ghadi Today’s Home Work Done Creative Art On A Matchstick Dog Sand Art Creativity

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Funny Veg Jokes

Meri Pyari Madam
Madam Ne Ek Baar Class Ke Bachho Ko My Teacher Par 10 Line Likhne Ko Kaha Thodi Der Baad Santa Ne Uth Kar Poocha S

Biwi Marne Ki Saza Bas Itni Si?
Ek Baar Santa Apni Biwi Ke Saath Jaa Raha Thha, Raste Mein Usse Ek Dost Mila Jisse Police Ne Pakda Hua Thha. Santa

Ab Aaya Oont Pahad Ke Niche
Ek Ghar Mein Ek Moti Aurat Rahti Thi, Ek Din Uske Ghar Mein Chor Guss Aya Moti Aurat Ne Chor Pakda Or Uske Upar Beth

What Can Stop You From Falling In Love
Nobody In The World Can Stop You From Falling In Love. But Two Powerful Weapons Can Do That. Mummy's Chappal &a

Aajkal Ke Bikhari
Santa Road Par Chal Raha Tha Raaste Mein Use Ek Bhikhari Mila. Bhikhari: "Aye Bhai Ek Rupaya De De, Teen Din Se Bhukh

Top Bret R. Crabrooke

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