Title: Purpose with Projection

Title: *SPIRITUAL GROWTH* Light Orb painted by Rev.Bola

Title: Purpose with Projection

Surprises curtain 

bottle frostbite sins 

scent melancholic

Denver joints

beggars flames 

languor tears swing 

keylime stalker

handsome and berserk 

saxophone chortles, 

murky dead and copious

pain meows, nude liquids 

ranting bee mimics, smug

coagulation a woman in the branches a tissue of lies 

I met her 

on probation 

all hunched over.

        

I can still recall 

those training 

pants she wore.

    

She was 

crawlin' through 

the prairie in

 the twilight,

        

And I knew 

she'd bought 

her dentures 

in a store.

Well ... 

    

Her rabbi said 

I'd warp her 

mind forever.

        

She said to 

me let's order 

up some pie.

   

But who'd 

have thought

 she'd sky dive 

at the hoedown.

        

But that's the way

 that pygmies 

say goodbye.

ghosts of factories forest deer culled by the road truths scratched from the dirtTangled within the dark wings of lustful desire, I await thy 

arrival my love

Each cloud-like 7

touch of mine, dies to explore every inch of thy sacred valleys 

and holy arches

Tangled within

 the dark wings of lustful desire, I await thy 

arrival my love

Each cloud-like 

touch of mine, dies to explore every inch of thy sacred valleys 

and holy arches

I gaze upon 

thy jeweled eyes,with sinful thoughts of thy icy kisses 

upon my neck

I stand before you. 

Thy humble servant seeks only to please thy royal satin flesh and 

silky skin

I gaze upon 

thy jeweled eyes, with sinful thoughtsof thy icy kisses 

upon my neck

I met her in a treehouse with a jogger; I can still recall  the hearing aid she wore; She was talkin' in Swahili with Led-Zeppelin,      and I knew that she would be an easy score; She asked me if I'd hate her dog forever; She said to me man wasn't meant to fly; But who'd have  thought she'd turn green on  her 'Workmate'; She sent a hired  thug to say goodbye. After the rain of tears the leaves cry, Beside the river of discord the women sing, In the streets of the dance the young ones journey, In the dream of wanting young lovers speak, Inside the meaning of discord the trees escape. ------------------------------------- Mixed Poetry by Rev.Bola [copyright: 1.Mar.2015 -ARR] ------------------------------------------