Glenn McCrary, 26 july 2012
A wild posy
Shriveled and perished.
The evening-warriors chuckled ---
But the day-warriors fussed.
A wild posy
Shriveled and perished.
Glenn McCrary, 13 june 2012
Voodoo cryptograms
were the mirrors
alleviating all that is
bred of elementary nature
having spaked in tones
that could quake the bones
fashioning humanity’s frame
furnished by deathly tales
Glenn McCrary, 13 june 2012
As the bark of fear ascends
callow pages crease
illustrating a youthful doxy
abreast a sheet of smoke
waltzing betwixt velveteen lips
as if tomorrow’s mistakes
mattered yesterday
Glenn McCrary, 10 july 2012
Those eyes that flicker in yonder light
flourish like snakes during summer nights
So seasoned and cultured unshaken they float
Though none can tell what’s pristine or trite
‘tis often I ponder what spare
pages you sought to share
A question mark be thy beauty
such a being surmised as rare
her smile benevolent as summer’s breeze
Upon my knees nimble I appease
And in that time I recollect
These memories that are elder keys
Glenn McCrary, 10 june 2012
Versed within aureate calligraphy
Each syllable we’d partake
Defined by moments
When our lips would graze
As we lie in the bedsteads
Fashioned by the finest mirth
Born of cultured artistry
Glenn McCrary, 19 september 2012
Tones of depreciation eject forth estuaries of spittle
Causing unsought billows of panic
Why can’t society be more appreciative
Instead of dejecting them
And divesting them of criticism
Communication is significant
Yet people omit it’s qualities
Glenn McCrary, 30 may 2012
A sharp, harrowing burden
Fashions mirrors of fear
Virgin pages designed
From white nothingness
Tattooed by black teeth
Eyes everywhere
Bold, brave, and daring
To decode the freakish nature
Ascending from duplicity
Glenn McCrary, 22 may 2012
Distance cleaves us
Though we drink of the smiles
Bubbling from the corners of our lips
The colours of courtship begin to swivel
Locust echoes bloom ever so fearlessly
As fair passion sweeps through the fog
Glenn McCrary, 17 july 2012
What is there within this vagrant lady
That I can neither hear nor see,
That I fail to acquire or fathom
And still it beckons me?
Is not she but a blood stain in the moon---
A bit of water, plasma, enzymes?
And yet she plays upon her bong a truculent tune
As if Karma had not kissed her with his fangs!
Glenn McCrary, 30 june 2012
The hours screamed
Fine warnings eclipsed
By the science that is
Her lovely masquerade
for no woman upon bended knee
have I fostered much passion
The love of my sexy nightmare
Breast of the famous queen
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