#poetry Homes Need Domes #poem

Homes Need Domes

Course, rusty cloud, and cluster all’s crown.
Cast our bated desires; swim our pleasure view.
Clearly, give us names, old hues, clues to bones
submerged in hunger’s stew. I do risk a chew…

Lady lip flutters by butterfly wings, and we’d,
duly, rather sip manna dew, construe fountain
complexities as simple to dos. That old rust dye
illusion vaped, counter to lies’ cut crusts’ escape.

Fuzz’n’balls brush mutilated memories of songs
that cast off clouds, that no longer do as a cue
of justice, as it claps the cracks you, inside, know.
Eyes turn, you see, bolt by bolt, motion-sensed.

Colossal chip chunks bolted by electric flashes,
raw, electric funds, chip and collapse and crush
closet wishes walled by stormy, flag pole pinnacles
that our view rarely escapes. Homes need domes.

#LYRICS #song #title !? #good ? #think of a title #never have put #music to lyrics

“Offshoot of an Old Root” 

It’s no mistake you know
and I don’t forsake you know
as I bake and bake and bake
and go and bow down like you do
see the unbound and frown
at TB I’m an unsound clown
like you too shake it off… off… off…

outside weather
mete whether
sustain tether
or care either
should I
you could
my bleeding
bud believe

I’m an offshoot of an old root, not lame to the game, and hip to the joint.

It’s a mistake you know
and I forsake you know
I bake and bake and bake
go bow like you
frown unbound
at TB a clown
you shake it off… off… off…

CHORUS

weather outside
whether mete
tether sustain
either or care
I should
could you
bleeding my
believe bud

CHORUS

#FD thanks Vicious Circle Writers Group #atL

https://twitter.com/captaininsaneoh/status/856641920273186817

 

 

 

Bottom Lines

Bottom line, natural, wild bird on eggs, loses keys.
Free birds are out nights, musically, and, alive.

Night time, I spend alone, on drives; old walnut
crushes crest the dash edge. I thrive the old hive
a butt to my tires, babies no man touched or putt,
as blusters shade singers; it’s spring, and I drive.
Blusters blow smoke out. Walnuts surf dash butt
rim and out smoke more; and I attempt to shrive;

in, goes numerous beats; in, goes plum sensual elixir.
out the window, mind on you; out the window, dope.
in, goes elixir air; in, goes fixer air; in, goes airy dope.

Bottom line, natural, wild bird on eggs, loses keys.

#dis #is #da #ban #daban #nastyban

Throw out your coats; grab your goats and your throats; you’re a roasted beacon of flame, toasted, set assail, shipped, and seabound, fairing from the coast of things, dead as ash, released from your cabin of torture, floating the balmy beach of the forum, cast by your shadow friends with closure, as there your system broke and your cloak of childhood, your palpable lack, situated by a frank departure from the foam of substance, had departed.