i by habit try to find a bond as it's usually there, like feeling for tank strap when i put a tube on, of oxygen.

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

too long?

he threw the soaked walnuts out
when he later unknowingly, still in earthquake swirl anger,
admitted that his stomach is more sensitive
and to him it's rancid (like chemical sensitivity
or feeling cold when the other person is hot
in the same metabolizing temperature,
but that doesn't mean their perception models all else
<i>and maybe we can sympathize for their weaker state</i>
although we can take the logic
that life is better without harmful non-environmental products
just as if we eat riper,
a benefit of its own,
then our temp and temper evens out,

but we shouldn't tell the burning up crowd
to get sweaters or they'll freeze to death
because YOU are when that would add to disaster,
no mights left of shade,

and so likewise i calmed down to reckon
that maybe it would work for all of us
if i more regularly ate nuts,
making him happy when they're not in our fridge
dry for six days,
myself loving the task of taste,
& Mamma wants me to include them
to help clear up the flakes of acne
even though ironically some kernels to accumulate
crumble in dad's bag
like acid turns to alkaline in the body,
but even there i don't eat them a healthfood,
i just love them and then they become what's healing
like IDC if i'm overweight or lazy or about preventing that in rote,
though i will go for dance which seems to take care of such
like having someone clean for your house
and you see the results w/o the exhaustive work,

and the body is its own when it comes to upkeep
if you offer it energy balls that you don't have to open
as long as they're not rocks
but digestible that it can break down
like giving a bird's beak what it can gnaw on right away

so similarly i'm not gonna be like the world
who is SCARED of their food,
like maybe kevin gianni perhaps has an excited face
not mainly for or because of sharing a range of raw food
but his wife probably holds the camera ,
to look into it is to look into her and her smiles,)

like when he announces a shirt of mine
was too much for him to keep soaking the perfume out of,
i'm almost dumb to ask where it is
because by then conversation is outdated to the trash
as the info in books may be by the time they're published
or his hid designs that he can never get done to sell
because he's always changing something
like contradictory love he discernibly hoped to profess
in 3D P.H.D too but doesn't always get the label
whereas i want the degree of being soothed not a career ~

yet if you have  a center principle,
that's not ever old
& we can try old-fashion family talk and books again,
still inside our 'borders' that hasn't 'closed'

how happy is he now that he pays for my arguing after the fat fact
like that facet did not satisfy me
when i did my hair that way,
reminding me of how at living on the second floor
of one of our places years ago
Daddy 'apologized' for throwing
the stationary bicycle down to the bottom cement,
in front of us the concrete was and we saw him,
yet his solution in that mood (it actually shocked me)
was to 'should've done that \"peacefully\"
when you were sleeping.'

All I really wanna say is don't leave me
in bed during an earthquake!

well, the dulse that got choked
into my throat from yelling
what i figured was rightful yet it's an oxymoron
when i also heavily cried
which sucked the seaweed sequence down halfway
jumped to fluted conclusions and salty tears
[not the same as iodine
just as much as crying tastes different
than the flavor it gives to food,]
and it never got back to my tongue to swallow properly,
yet it melted,
like the argument never concluded in free breath,
yet it melted --

but my tears are worse like gulping kava wrong,
it's a poky solid that only gets rubbery
but not gone
like sun helps melt hair oils but not off,
contrasting how good not goof food liquefies fat,
rather spreads it as an artificial facial rainbow
breaking out away from sun instead of through for it,
also from bad emerging oil blocking the useable ones
extracted in another damaged way,

so that tickle to cry huffingly
& have mucous
like coughing thoughtlessly
AND having a like runny nose from the flu that loses,
of influence influenza,
only went away right away
when Mamma surprisingly put her flat hand on my hair,
like a plank to not hunch into collapse of relapse,
to demonstrate what Daddy should've done

seaweed decomposes
but sorrow doesn't as easily when stuck at those oceanic roots

the leftover sniffle flow kept coming like pen ink
that i use to relaxingly write,
and i wiped it on my empty hand the whole time
like where i would hold my pen,
not getting too tiring for my wrist/nail muscles
(like the flu didn't wreck those in minerals amazingly,)
and the nose runs on my fingers are not too raw
to saturate into skin until done with my poem

Then, I'll take off dense tenseness,
and wash.  (no worries - i already did for reference.)

maybe he's the one who's the 'religion food'
because some of those don't examine,
and a sentence can be poised in poison,
and should be taken to the lab
more than foods that God created in balance for us,
when language from our minds need watched

his point is so close to mine
and yet it's like when my bangs
line up right with my nose now,
when crying the tips had to get sticky,
like his has to swing confrontationally
when there's no barretted room
for body fluids and discussion,
like trying to see the sun through curtains in the morning,
and you really want that bright cheer
after not having it all night
like Daddy gets frustrated
when we aren't moving on with him
when it's just motions,
[yet am i supposed to be like part of the whole house
unearthed in the earthquake
not trying to hold onto escape
even if we need to reunite our bond later?]
yet so many never sing
where its vibrations blow the gauze drape to the side,
like the buzzing wings move a grasshopper

the endings are my titles,
like when i fill in the subject box
the screen jumps up like close-knit kids seeing what you're doing,
i guess...





Submitted: July 05, 2011

© Copyright 2022 tuningbrunospiano. All rights reserved.

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