Penny Candy Too much trouble thinking I could just get of bedPenny Candy by ~Inallgoodtime
and maybe play, but time froze and let's pretend
my hours are built like pennies,
over slow years,
into towers.
The copper dollar.
And each tootsie-roll moment
(bent sagging in the heat)
if used properly,
could buy me a boat
on which I'd sleep
from the exhaustive amount of infinite labour
it must have taken to have such patience!!!!!!
And until
recently, I would have said "whoa."
"that's not for me."
My candy bar, my phone, my guitar, my kitten, my pouch, my house, my car.
My fine white line, my mice army of children I haven't yet had. My golden dream.
My viscous Ame
Potatoes PotatoesPotatoes by ~Inallgoodtime
Robots have overtaken the yard.
My house is a cage.
Out there in threatening blue
thunderheads the sun sculpts
rainbow
Theory:meditation hums us
down with the mountains.
No more pilgrims chewing oat.
My thunk tank has ingested itself.
Methinks thought may be bored.
How do we save it, poor thought?
In the cellar again,
shoots of stellar activity
crawl along the walls.
A stranger has been in.
I know by the shadows
of his shy step.
What is it about us
that we feel
when we think
what we breathe
why dust where went the sun?
Spooks smoke.
Holes leave heavy heads.
Still none of us are dead.
Down here fingers poke
Another Poem I fear this.Another Poem by ~Inallgoodtime
I fear that.
Let come what may
I fear nothing.
All stuttered sentences
stuff themselves
and be damned.
I need a reckless thought to whack Havoc with.
This reeks of Nothing.
Ain't that something?
No.
Just dry ramblings
from an ancient pen
half-cracked
from the mad fool
who held it last.
Snapshots of a Day 1Snapshots of a Day by ~suckerforsunrises
In my dream last night,
I made a balding Viking pacifist
out of green legos and
an empty pastry bag.
After peacefully pillaging
a plastic English toupe shop,
we ravaged two raspberry scones
and marched on to Oslo
for intense meditation.
2
My imagination throws a costume party
in the A.M. When I show up
in a towel and flip-flops, she laughs
from behind her Queen Mab get-up
and hands me a Solo cup.
3
I did not believe his burgundy flannel shirt,
but his bloodshot eyes
may have been from
sawdust
marijuana
conjunctivitis
so I'll say he's a lumberjack,
that
couldn't care for your Clocks -couldn't care for your Clocks by !warblytwitflizz
let's say time
is not a century
or second,
but is loss
of limb,
a taut skin
brought to mutual force,
by which all bodies
attract one another.
let's say time
is not that which is fixed
by clocks and calendars,
but is what
alters you,
slobbers
and swallows you
to eventually
succeed you,
casting what were
your most meridian
thoughts, most large,
moist brain,
ginger skin
and bone
into myriad rewards
of the universe.
-
Confused 
I've placed a link to it in the sidebar of my journal page.
Sta.sh
