Wednesday, June 19, 2013

Queen of France

Poetry: Indianic Tycoon

what-ifs and he went... where to?

for years and years, queried through,
far to distant peaks
non-plundered in seek,
awaying thoughts of easier sunders,
and the others of meek.

high, high-up climbing, breathing air
wet humid instacias wealth in felt,
sumetric approaches
why in reason was, i ruining my health,

fetished in coric state
ramping a return in, borrowing anothers
well known of before fate.
meeting in with their hi,
the next scheduled gravian date.

thinnic shelters,
of mindnesses keep,
regrettable foragers, 
quailing-into known-of distances away,
not a heaven always,
painted-in as their runaway.

pay for it,
mr. cashed-in flash,
looks to have stopped there,

sweetsie auntie? phonemania,
westernia unionatica...
no, nowhere,

didnt mean to dredge you out that low,
there was supposed to be something available,
youre remembered,  
cash aquainted regular with us
connectivity there,
thats whats holds persons thus,
even though youre gone,
experiencing philos of be,
roaming indiaticas hills
hearing befores never knowns
under satiations trees.

selling herbals?
goic insoons!
isnt that better than sandalian vinagaroons?

jesus fricken christ thats the wrong religion,
hesensia vidals sassoon,

they just dont get it,
its not about the rack and pinion
its else without the where,
the place discaptured,
the place of the non-found there.