White noise in the sunrise
A bloody nip at mañana
As chameleons in the summers’ hazy end
Smoke fine thistles
To flank the dire straits
Of their good faith lovers’
Blessed promiscuity
A reason to embark the risk
Of Magellan winds
Majestic swells and jagged
Machismo sheathing grace
Seeking an Indian ocean
Unharnessed power to embrace
A harvest of white lines
White lies of express distaste
For the demonic masks
Of thug life gait
Hooded conquistadors
Spraying bullets in the untouched brush
The talent of a Harlem River project
Scarlet petals settled in the courtyard
Rest in paradise
In cosmic memory
And long live the rose that grew from concrete
A Machiavellian truth
There’s a (dagger dragging/dragon) under the moon
A labyrinth of corporate fascism
Leading a nostalgia for the monarchy
As if the fear of sanity were to be insane
Shaking cracks in the (white lies/white lines)
The retraced figure
And skating by the hollow shells of misplaced hate
A driving force
He spun a hammer to the ground
And landed in a ballerina’s pace
Proper and seemingly motionless
A natural solitude
Like a lady
Krasavica
My intellect is enamoured
Of dark red curtains and clear glass panes
As with the working girls of Amsterdam
On the late fringes of a spliff
A dire finitude
Swaying her hips in the icy acid rain
Feckless evocations braying off her tongue
The hanging line is slain
There was nothing left to escape from
The vicious anger of daring to love
Had swelled well beyond the contingencies
Barreling a stream adrift
And the ladies flocking to their nests
Sometimes my passions leave me broken
Utter and spent
Subservient to the worldly order
A tragedy of loveless abyss
Wherein the holy spirit (evokes/drifts)
On through the cracks
A blind river sense
We feel around a shell of (solipsism/finitude)
The dark well of youth in perpetua
Fountain of a Catolic façade
To evade in some absent good faith
The demons of an existential hypocrisy
Just another soldier on a road to nowhere
As the war has long been (over/gone)
Anastasia crystalline
The glass apple is a mirror
Where the eyes of the people can be seen
Stealing the show
’Til some angel dancing on the courts
Entices the martial solemnity
To ease into the theater
We are spritely masks of an evening harbor
Having ridden the brightest swells
We approach an empty night
And live our days in epitome
Perpetual despite
And never far from starving
An imagistic élégance
The canvas of the transience
Riding walls as we well please
The world as such is tabula rasa
A dance project how quite perpetual
Dasein’s collective choreography
The everyday
A white canvas of Bohemian memories
Without a trace of recognition
Escape artists
In freestyle to the rhythm of the heat
Yet empty of a speech
Chameleons in the mirrors
Of material deposition
Passions in our souls
And we are nothing more
God save the Queen
Mañana
Salud pesetas y amor
Y tiempo para gozarlos
Apasionado y en el amor
Y amor y amor y amor
Eternity
If I am not burning inspiration
Then what is all my sin expiring for?
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