Incomplete high rap stuff

High, my name is, as a kite, Cody is. Don't slip or trip on the box elder bugs that slurp up the sludge seepin' out your feet, like you're sweating Smuckers, purple, out your sneakers, sans the nut butter. Bit the bun, but don't be beatin' the bread you knead, kneelin' on bubble wrap and bending needles with your but cheeks. Check it, while Charlie chirps a chorus in the chappel, Chuck is cackling there in the backroom, butt fuckin' loud enough to smell it in the foyer.

Denying Sirens

Sirens may lament when we don't consent To lose our will to their woeful, wishful wooing; But if incline our ears, we'll crumble straight to dust. All our space for pleasure, our capacity for joy will be filled to the stretching point, and will fall bagged and limp in a jaded heap. Our curiosity and motivation will melt and slip through our clutching fingers like soaped quicksilver. We'll be forced to live without fuel for interest, move without heart to pump and pull up our muscles to animate our atrophying limbs. Those days they barely do, we'll lumber aimlessly with our senses cemented shut, bashing through the streets like bull or falling boulders, numb and dumb as rock hard carcasses, good as their tomb of dirt. We'll fall into the pit of the yawning gap the siren's song rang full in us like a gong inflating a circus tent, until the persistence of the resonance dissolved the poles that held it up. Like a black hole we'll lose the light of the outside world, and turn inside to empty spaces where our lips, ever sucking, come up dry and dusty, our straining eyes at a loss for any luster. We'll hiss right into nothing, be rust and cobwebs on the doorknob to nowhere, a whisper of "was" with an echo of "never."

Silly funny folly sun, spilling light like sprinters run. Burning bright while no one sees, at night you should be catching z's.

Ineffability

Oh, Life Only the subtle swing will hit you. How you evade the pin of description, deftly dodging the jab of words. To but the yielding you reveal the flowing roll of your chaste breast, your Mona Lisa grin beneath my nose.

Treeclimb

Pine like a flea for flesh, Flag for our limbs to mesh, Friction fries to death We, who fear of feeling left

Symmetrying

As a crooning caress, a tranquil touch, a nudge splitting wide what couldn’t be budged: pry free the frills of my fragile, latent bloom; crack dawn for the flame that aims to reach noon an adroitly shaped mold wiggling an ethereal groove, dignified, humble, profoundly accepting of mood. ignited in spirit, voracious in mind a placid tempest; a benign land mine laughing up time like life eats light, whole as the day that’s a part of the night simple as mud, but one and aware of the multitude, myriad things, wide as the ocean; astringently crisp and mineral rich as the skin cleaving mist it brings loyal as the tide that pursues the eschewing coast. with Eden’s love, and Heaven’s might draws courage to deny the bottomless ego’s boast, careful with words, and watchful of the way she weaves the world inside the quirky twitch in her nose is my sagacious will’s captor as a storm rumbling through in an undulating rapture, for her to fill form, to soak what I see, I must turn around, and reflect her in me

i saw it in their backyard

so light as an Eidolon,
a beast with a torso like fire trembles;
a ribbon flailing in the gale,
a contortionist; scalp touching spine.

it's time under heaven

why must summer violets die,
why do the petals yellow?
is there one unwilted leaf
to set between the pages we stopped reading on?

is there anything save hope,
that would allow the winter months
a chance to do what they never do?
under snow, can a violet grow,
into the shape of you?

is there a prayer i'll see your face,
emerging from the melting flakes?
or is it too far-fetched to think,
i'll be greeted by else than necrotic stink?

the part of me that has a hold
says wait, grow, pray.
don't plant the seed 'till may.

Soon to come:

Regarding a leviathin, pregnant horsefly, and the sincere innocense of humanity.

Ode to 'A'

Almost as an alligator
ascending after Alice with
an aim of saying "ate," and
an apex unaltered in
appropriate, capital attention
almost as though Ala
accelerates with authority to
attain the attributes atoning
for it's absence from the alphabet.
Alpha's always betar, and
awkward announcements are
all that utter after.

Only Couplet

What a cold and ceaseless night,
not shoulder bredth a wave of light..

Of Space, and Time

It seems as though the bigger you were, the slower time would pass. I picture myself as a giant. A true titan, towering a million miles high, looking down at a beam of light passing by my feet as one would look at a spider crawling across the floor.

root chakra request

Oh, my yearning to congeal,
orbit 'round other one,
another,
more.
To cease the weaving of
my pieces,
ground this introspective chore.

Afternoon Prose

I've been sitting on this mountain pass at Vinson Massif for what feels like months. Hector should be back anytime now. Where's he been? The sled dogs couldn't have broken off again could they have? Ugh.. It is August.. I wonder if there was a storm.. All I've been left with is a single coat, Kevlar gloves, my hiking boots, and three greasy Slim Jims. That guy's is treading on my last nerve... What do the people speak down here?... Are there even people?... I usually know things like that...
"CRIKEY!"
"Stay tuned, 'cause after these short messages, we'll see what I did to cure violent boredom on, 'Steven Irwin as Bear Grills: Wayyyyy Down Under'"

COMMERCIAL BREAK

(90 second time lapse)

"We appear to be having some technical difficulties. If you'll please remain patient, the problem should be fixed in a short while. Thank you. . ."

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Click... "Ugh." Click... "Kerry looks like a pterodactyl." Click... "Hmmm.. Baked Alaska... Sammy would freak if I surprised her with that for the reunion Saturday.. I guess if I really want to, I can look it up later though." Click... "MTV is for mulattoes that wear Usher brand cologne, and drive cars their parents can't afford. Hoorah melting pot... Why do I even care? Why did I waste fifteen seconds talking about it? Wow.. Why am I still talking about it?. I would not do that for no reason/."
CSHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHTSTSTSTSTSTS!
"What the hell?!"
The glass from the window spread across the living room floor as the 6'9' tribally clad Amazonian pulled himself through the opening onto Austin's T.V.

Duffodeelas

The alchemist isn't turning his head from the soul,
The alchemist is the soul tilting its head over the walls,
The alchemist does not need to look for his source because he is it,
It is the eye that looks,
It is not off or in juxtaposition, It has no circumference or innate gravity,
It is the ubiquitous element that births and connects the 'real' and the finite,
It alone is there.
All else is just All most.
No deductive reasoning can scoop its hands collecting the high border of its scalp,
and retrieve God for the stomach as thorough sustenance,
that would be suicide and irony that has nothing to be for,
Not the thought or remembrance that it was, to recount, or liberality for itself,
It is Atlas, apathetic and weighed down like a machine that can't be untouched,
And has a cracking Vegas nerve that consumes the rests' like a juggernaut

Savvy Hump-backed Bell Basher (fe) probably vs. Benedict the XVI

She shed where the banshee is going evaporation follicle debris the shortest visible wavelength. A is after B ecause that shot bolted stout shouting fig ferocious water bogger (liberal) is a A LOT bigger than any of us here in the crowd today. We’ve come to honor the situation as it is. We come to exit in all the grandeur of all the things like a penultimate infinity shooting towards a singularity and all is taken over except the final possible amount. In penultimate infinity we find all the matter and meaning, more than the labels of feelings themselves but the actual exponent of the omnipotent component. The deity can make itself collapse for nothing but nothing cannot make the deity collapse, or erect itself for all the ‘thing’ we could know, or never know in the penultimate infinity. This can’t be a vain act allowed by phalangial steak or something that flows like a river with crimson element through what the mass thinks is only its’ own possession. And to think we are separate or broken or in need of symbol is just as temporary as the number on the clock that is always intermittent and punctual there, but only counts if we’re looking at that time of day or night, or hear the utterance of another’s presumably indubious recognition. The sun keeps his games in that area. From what we’ve told it to be, it became. Is that not a lopsided ratio of delegated sovereignty? "Pish posh," said the hard clipped sosh; and his chamber pot was promptly emptied into the streets of the Vatican.

2014

The cleaved wet obsidian slope that is adulthood's front yard,
crushed down and made obsolete by Nostradamus' terminating date,
two turns since shows a petrified Pompeii replay,
a quivering static gesture,
gray matter factory made matter of factually grayer,
Quanta cadavers composing the mantle tsunami and a final subjective thrust,

suspended weightless,

a mosquito in the sap of omnipotent insouciance

There once was a boy from Cameroon
He needed a bite to eat soon
The boy was so tender,
Starved, battered, and slender
That Death fed upon him with a spoon

poppedubE

end left open.
E's sharp!
b flat.
lift my lips and lose the lid.
rush of stash to mosh to ish
to end on empty

noitpecrep fo thgieW

Yellow Purple.

Spirit Body.

.sdrawrof

gniht emas ,elcyc emas ,emit emas ,nosrep emas

?noinu eht edistuo rucco yadretsey dna worromot od

crazy motive.