diaric, poetry

B sounds

Itinerary, Inbox, Insomnia
get a hold of yourself. 🙂 / 😐

Increased core strength and she’ll stand.
In weeks, she’ll grip words, too.

Instead of that cold, drafty tower of talons,
House of Gucci again for me.
For they know best gratuitousness.

When you look up from your work and confide to her,
this working is not working.

When one story is about moon drops.

When inspiration sparkling at the periphery—a hummingbird
cake. Toasted pecans are a must;
a can of crushed pineapple
with the juices. WITH. Do Not Drain.

this is a picture of sparkling black sand, probably after midnight, on the way to your dream's fortune.
Photo by Adrien Olichon on Unsplash
diaric, poetry

Heart: Start Ignition

when you’re blue, instead.
when you should take a nap.

Mooncats, when the compass rose
meets the revolution. will no one
say it outright?

They’re there, roadkill
I’m here killing streets

I’m The Hottest.

When The Devil lurks
and the universe repeats itself: bend us to you
We await.

of course, of course, of course
on repeat of course, of course, of course
because, once again, disco,
Disco never died.

Photo by Vance A. on Unsplash
diaric, poetry

Engaging Glamorous

When it’s a life of illusion
and I am the Magician.

way back when, I always wanted
a twin. an older brother—a shield,
a knight. later on, when i discovered that i must be,
i am, my own brother.

Here come the words!

remember when:
she used to love to say, ‘you are dumbern a sacka hammers’
then kill herself laughing.

when oh, all right, I’ll be
your villain.
You comfy?
Now what?

Photo by Blake Cheek on Unsplash
diaric, poetry

The Romantics

House of Flowers
Gates of Love

by Zeus, it’s a lightning bolt(!)
storming expansion in our hold

(allow me to tuck you in, sweet darling,
your little duckie blanket all snug)

Halls of Power, pirates,
singing queens, sunset sold;
Flying scoundrels falling
in love, myths retold;

House afire,
Magic bold.

When it’s never smart to burn white hot
(lest you flame away)

When this side is paradise.

And when it’s my birthday.

Photo: Robert Katzki via Unsplash
diaric, poetry

Nothins gonna touch us

when the belated gift is now arriving,
when you gotta float all calm-like in the highest altitude,
when even the dog bosses you around,
(yep, still float)
when authority falls down
(yep, still float)
and you look directly at the camera.
(yep, still float)
when you put on your shades and ask who cares? the sun’s going
to explode anyway

Photo by Uninteneded Concept on Unsplash