Wednesday, June 12, 2013

Queen of France

Poetry: A Chorus Line

New york beckons.....
a summer with chorus line tickets,
light on the over,
the over-foyae,
accounts of her new,
cigaretted fetish,
learned in recent days,

Bright, under-sexes possibles of momentae,
it was on the stage only that day.

Expenses on the pay-out rant through,
does the virgin have to?

Jazz, some of them do sump-in without a spaz.
eclectia bright, away from all that jazz, critquia spite,
call it back to bun-head, too uptight,
but, its such a lie on me,

Diversions all-around,
aspiring to be sex free,
in the summer of 83,

and the bring goes on,
time to trash,
as the garbage strikes' on,
spired heaps intensiating initiae,
demands to a virgin,
a virgin into cancellae,
rancidia reeked on,
the thought of get
New York there,
was wrong.

Why am I so truthful,
to the lead on,

Now, I'm a sexed-in wimp,
fearing to overshow that display,

Where was I, waking into, the variations.
they can be entertaining,
where was i,
living in the was when,

This one is too old, this one is too romantic,
this one's a porno poet, and they go on and on.

Even exageratum recalls
into happiness thinking back that way.
no, I don't think so,
I was the only naked
swinging out of a window that high.
2 or 3 levels, don't do it, please don't try.

Not sure on detailing all the where's,
sometimes it became a quest,
a character role
to avoid the bathrooms rest,

Near a forest on the echo,
a castle calls
its afore hards of yet,
stairs into experience,
as a knowing
henced into met,

Island only there in boat-of-row
as river quiets and fades into a know,
poison sumac glazed in summers glow,
nakeds innocent plundacious
within leafs delerious and redaeshious,
golden grailed forested light,
calls into a kink, a-have-to
of being tied up that night.

Grodes of grodacia
swoonic heat
caves of cavacia,
grime'ing into afternoons
away from meanders greets. 

Dropsheeted to canvas vote-in
greys political concrete
of remember then.

All the housery
locations on recall
saddens to the list,
another house space,
adorning domestias enchantric race,
"Beloved, home sweet home"
I really loved it here,
saying to the realtors,
While selling the place. 

Reminisces time into a reminisce,
when trash was heaped up so tall.
a very unbrave there,
I was not a get,
still living in 'yet'. that's all.

Pianos calling Liberachi
time to grave-fright them out,
"This is a bus tour inside room,
always on a walkabout.
invisiated unfuns,
ghosted into gloom.
populated world,
seems to be their rooms."

"It was an isolated expensia",
who knew..., localian limits,
"Only blue lagoons".