R.O.L.H.
{Roaring Ominous Lounge House}
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@boycaughtunanimous
R.O.L.H.
{Roaring Ominous Lounge House}
Everyone stop what your doing... CANNON BALL!
pool party music. Let's go .
Boy Caught Unanimous- #Invisible Rulers#
http://soundcloud.com/boycaughtunanimous/invisible-rulers
BARBARA LOVE
It is weird.
I can't place it.
Familiar faces from my past make it hard to taste it
and I can't tell if its worth it.
I want the worlds light to shine on me because I deserve it,
but certain emptiness makes me divert or curve it.
I float just south of the line where I'm meant for,
waiting for the perfect time
I have spent all of my worth towards.
I am the most powerful substance I have touched,
so its weird mixing with barbara love.
The must I excrete every moment
when inhaling her lust
is the heart I choke on
and its hard on my lungs.
Im too soft.
Too ready to commit to my future and the existence I emit.
Swallow hard and escape for a bit
before the long inference of my fait's pigment.
Light and soft like blind cops
So see through it's lost
and no one can hear me, but the crickets.
The deafening silence is sickening
like an empty rocking chair;
ricketing
on a lamp-lit porch
with a low burning torch
made of oak and nothing more.
In the sky I can only sore
if I could reach it
but it seems so far from my fingers
when I reach for the stars.
Deeply empty and way too far
for my stretching limbs;
impeccable and bizarre.
My future is paper thin.
It must be heaven to be a star.
Let's begin and forget to end.
Lift your leg and get in my car.
Forgetting fear is far from sin.
I am
Happily ever after.
Poetiquette
I've disconnected from interacting with women in my natural way. I think I have become damaged goods from the waged warfare I have accumulated in the field of romantic interaction. I don't feel like myself anymore. The gas has damaged my lungs. It's my own fault though. I now notice that I am uninterested in the majority of women from past experience pre-determined templates that I ignorantly fit their character into, but maybe ignorance is completely inaccurate. Maybe intuitively, I have become sharper. Just sharp enough to choose who or what I should let in to my world. Although polarizing, both theories have contributed to my current state.
I feel a need to re-connect with the feminine sex,
but haunting emotions keep my heart hesitant;
a simple defense mechanism for protection.
It's been 2 years since I have experienced mutual love,
or maybe three.
It runs together.
Red wet paint drips on my face
from a saturated ceiling
it gets harder to breathe
as I lay in place
waiting to re-awake.
Sleeping Beauty.
Years since I have been let in.
Not since I have loved,
fore I have missed in the near past more than once.
I have fallen for beautiful silhouettes
and failed to communicate how deep we connect.
In the spark of our ignition, it wasn't enough.
I wasn't.
I didn't set the hook.
I couldn't.
I tried, but each time she wouldn't bite hard enough,
so they turned and left with the wake.
They turned and left me more than once
I'm infected with their scent to dissect in nasal depths
reminding me exactly how she went
the other way.
They left me adrift and led me astray
like a floating anchor.
Inept.
Alone in the billowing blackness that consumes my stale emotions
that she used to claim as her own.
She created them.
And she stamped her name on my heel
like Andy
then gave me away for free.
Goodwill is so handy.
Two years since my light has reflected on a face I have chosen;
someone I wanted to burn with.
I can remember the feeling of hot wax dripping where icicles now clasp.
My heart-shaped locket is cryogenically frozen.
I have fallen for too many bear traps.
It's either head first or softly dip your toes in.
Baby koala, I get a little attached
And nothing in between.
I'm fucked up and cracked.
My romantic shins
have been
compound fractured.
My love bat has been netted and captured.
I can't walk and he can't bite,
so he hides from the sky.
No more propelling through the smoke malnourished,
so thirsty he chokes and sputters out.
I want to help.
I want to sooth his cotton mouth,
but he's out of reach.
I could
appear to be cold,
but it's warm beneath my coat.
My mind built him a splint out of a violet kite,
but his tendencies lead
to blood-sucking stale Fat Tires;
left-overs from last night.
Actions transpire
through his tired glazed eyes.
Black from soot.
He's not right for flying,
simply put.
Vulnerable girls have drained all his light
like a coughing hot air balloon.
So he'll wait for a woman's touch to ignite
instead of wasting so much time.
Imagine orgasms over the moon.
The hook is set. Deep and tight.
Deal them away with a mop and a broom.
Start brand new.
It's the least I could.
Regroup.
Take advantage of the night.
Once again
I am an abyss of radiant love
as I feed her lust with a silver spoon.
Eventually,
all there will be is me and you
and I don't want to wait for our lives to be over.
TTwinflame
I don't eat for fun.
I eat because my body tells me to.
I can't let my flesh deplete just yet.
First, I have things to do;
errands to run;
skills to ingest;
letters to deliver
in order to manifest what we are so close to becoming
as a group of humans.
But soon we must redefine the nature of our association with nature
or her skin will dry, crack, peel and suddenly blow away in the wind
Leaving her insides vulnerable to feeding.
We could apply lotion to her pale naked perfect body
while she's sleeping
allowing the sun to bronze her delicate dermis.
Her beauty is sooo close to being seamless.
Heavenly with the addition of golden surface.
I admire the talented work of a professional seamstress
that god is.
I think physicality is underrated.
Contributing to her beauty is why I exist.
If you think the cover and pages are unrelated,
Then you don't understand what a body really is.
Depths of souls reflecting.
I think my love can enhance her life,
consequently making her love me freely
deeply propelling us through galactic night.
I suppose we will both be surprised
at how high we can fly together.
I have come full circle.
Suddenly, I think I need that tether.
A year ago,
I didn't even know I had wings,
much less feathers.
How could you blame me?
I was dizzy and ashamed.
No wonder I couldn't see.
I believed it was Halloween
and I was dressed in black leather.
She is my twin flame
and I won't stop until I get her.
5-22-12
"To Whom It May Concern:"
My Dearest Pulchritudinous Queen,
Your traced figure glows in space.
Ghosts are passionate entities.
You do shift faces, but little things give you away.
Your tall dark shape vaguely communicates identity,
Usually, but not always.
It's hard to decide and follow through. I wish again I could have you.
I wish I could travel back to teen night dance floors.
Back then my tendencies could see the mystery in glitter and glow sticks.
We were 13.
I could slowly ask you to slow dance slow with me awkwardly
dripping in poetic kerosene
once more.
I talk with myself mostly.
It keeps me sane,
but maybe it's you.
Can you hear my brain?
Chase the string if you can.
Do not become consumed.
Easier said than done.
You soak in magic powers in crowded rooms
opposite of the sun,
spraying the slaves with superior fumes
and pheromones that allure the rest to do their best to please you.
They blush when they meet you.
I have eyes I can see it with, but I don't need them.
They greet you wearing it.
They bow to you.
Begging you to let them keep you
company,
give you money and drones to speak to.
You are so numb.
We share one view.
I feel you.
The disposable selected few
give you orgasm moans
that teach you how good you could really feel,
but its shallow and evaporates with the moon,
proving to never be,
what you call,
real.
The manipulated living.
You need it to last.
How deep do you possibly feel?
Is this rock bottom?
It can be so hard to handle it.
In the dark you are a lost follower.
Trudging through the rain with a candle lit.
Hollering.
Unconsciously doing the opposite.
Baby you are angry.
Desperate to hold it together.
Please invest.
At least try to stay on top of it.
I can hear it;
hollow ringing of sirens singing.
Snap out of it.
Turn and follow the clues glued to bear traps under royal shoes & steel high heels.
Burnt and hollow your tracks paint flashbacks of hunting tree swallows to break bones and joints.
Clipping wings and rounding points;
Bad Intentions.
Your scent lingers like supper.
I have a knack for disappointment.
Make a point of it
like the bell-ringing fingers
of my butler.
Come and get it sly cat.
Drink from the saucer.
The twinkles that reside in your devious eyes
sprinkle goosebumps down mischievous thighs.
I couldn't help it.
Then again,
you may be the anti-christ,
but perhaps
So am I.
I couldn't help but
leave you behind.
You know,
we don't have to be alone,
but we choose to.
I'm getting better at identifying you.
I'm a bandit. It's my secret.
Try to hide your slightest tell, but I can see it.
I bet you seek to understand it.
Olly olly oxen free. Please stop trying.
I held my breath and kept my parachute when I fell.
Then I just continued.
I'm tired of this venue and sick of the smell.
So I intend to
make like a hermit
and begin to
claim a new shell.
I miss you more than you know.
I will be looking for your shape
in cloud space when the brisk breeze blows.
That's why every day I wear my cape,
just in case.
It's a bit hard to get a head-start
by running in place.
I learned the hard way.
Anyway,
I just thought
you should know.
Love,
B.C.U.
Nyquil Rain Shower
Evolving into the sun or seizing to grow.
Sleeping Mars revolves around me.
What's behind the moon? Does anyone know?
Nyquil star-gazing makes me drowsy.
We need to flow. Well not all of us.
I'm holding the reigns, but he steers himself. I'm drifting.
Float through a dark verse like single-cell earth,
Soul searching the surface night. Sifting.
Does earth second guess her past?
She's most beautiful from this height.
Would she do it all different looking back?
One could say she might.
Her love is a small forest naturally housing pyramid power.
I'm a mad florist experimenting on wildflowers in a Spearmint fortress.
Far away you caught me spectating meteor showers with eyes up and a Venus Fly Trap.
I Piggy-back Boris, my only tangible friend besides my purple night cap.
He's a Galapagos Tortoise, but I don't hold it against him.
He's old and strong. He loves the night walks. He's quite wise; he wears knee-high socks.
He chomps tall grass stalks with his grinning dino chops
to make way for mud-fossil footprints like Spike.
Yeah I'm Petri.
Herbivore buffets full of feeding ficus and watering tea trees.
Within your garden radially.
I've become invisibly sneaky.
Black-fronted bush shrikes are full of themselves.
If it wasn't for the pain
I'd like to open him up to take a look inside.
It must be peaceful to know your meaning.
Numb skin on sympathy strike
Instead of flailing around and chaotically teething.
I'm a stupid baby.
Clear the smoke before you choke.
It'll drive you crazy.
You're too close.
Next time, I have one request.
A One-Track-Mind seeks an Orbit-Quest.
In space please place me?
I try to keep up, but I'm broke.
Doc says I caught pocket watch syndrome.
You see? I need the THC smoke to medicate me.
Can you hear the tick-tock?
This place has begun to phase me
like Marvin's lazer glock.
The world's a vase and I'm the water,
but I don't wish it to shape me.
Luke warm I am your father.
Black Vader mask and cape me.
Suck the power from my veins.
I have enough to feed you and maintain.
Take advantage.
Taste me.
My heads progressed to hazy places
once ingested through porcelin faces.
It's crazy to digest.
My flesh will manifest life.
some day I'll be pushin' daisies,
although right now it's only night,
when the sun comes up,
evolution will replace me.