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What fallow fields
we have seeded,
whilst ripping out the roses
of possibility.

The waters of love have been wasted (more)
Its summer time,
a poppy grows through the floorboards
of a barren woodshed.

Plenty of space,
till fall starts whistling through the cracks. (more)
Sometimes I too fall
then night brings tears, not repose
my elusive love
It seems I cannot
hate is not in our cards dear
I love you too much.
Until you come to claim me,
I shall run as wild and fey as I please.

Perchance I shall take a step
and be born aloft
upon an Elvish breeze. (more)
At last,
the hour of crackling fires
and bows hung in Cypress cones
has arrived.

I find myself tangled (more)
I do not ask for much.
Not for the Sun, nor the Moon,
nor even the Earth.

Do they ask after me?
I have nothing left to say.
Everything has fallen to a fixed meaning.
Autumn has come
and the leaves are falling out of my hair.
The wind speaks of new horizons. (more)
Music echoes through my wandering woods
dew drips as sunlight crests the tree tops
life teems with unheard of possibilities.

What more could one ask for
what prayer could contain such reverence (more)
Gorge yourself upon the fruits of wisdom.
Fall wildly into your own fermentation.
Abandon worn out illusions amongst the roots,
Liken unto a drunken moose.
I wish:

To have wine with dinner tonight. To hear the whine of a percolator making coffee. To have a cup of coffee ready for me every morning. To never stay long in mourning. To elongate my waking hours and always be rested. To take pleasure in every(more)
Gonna ride around to this bumping beat,
the buzz is here and I'm feeling fine.

Loving is easy and riches abound,
'cause its sexy, see
to live like me. (more)
I thought I found you
in one thousand different faces.
But, it was merely a glimpse, an inclination.
I was left with the face, the character-
Delightful exuberant creations- But, not you!
Patience takes the road less taught.
The world may not wait,
indeed it scorns those that do.

Love's transference, clings in uncertainty.
Moving with the ease of bumblebees. (more)
In cursory attempts to master the dilemma of a dirty mind, I have come across a curious holdout:

That of dirty math jokes.

You see, this particularly delicious slight of folly (more)