Wednesday, March 11, 2015

It is Written on the Moon

Ending on a lighter note,
from once it began,
shovel that ice cream up
to your mouth and aspire
for a happiness all your own.
You can be yourself.
Scapegoat if you must.
Muscle up the mountain.
Ridgeback whale,
doling out the wealth,
grain for the fields
of the gargantuan buxom.
And breathe.
Open that window and
lick a sticker, click and ladder,
smack a dapper. What does that mean?
Rollercoaster; soft and funeral-like.
I want to take trips to the beach with you.
Ending again, an aged wisdom...
that fleeting remorse
of discolored unions.
A tremendous uplifting
of the seven scarves,
and a slave to the rhythm that
catches my sex.
A softer ending still,
to the ones that took the pill.
Slipped up the rabbit hole and
back down again, is that marriage
sustinance or a nousance?
A weaker end, for the thousand
terra-cotta soldiers. They once
fought and respected love.
Now their souls graze industrial waste.
The last but never the final ending
to a new era of bedfellows.
Lovers in the garden
and bees fly all around...
we remember bliss.

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