BASE, SYNONYM, or ANTONYM

Troll Bridge

Far be it for me to exaggerate melancholy
after all, this poem was supposed to be cheerful
like the marriage of a prince and princess
she, dressed in a spotless white silken gown
her face glowing with high levels of luminosity
and he, the epitome of gentlemanly tendencies  
stood halfway down the isle with outstretched hand
waiting to lead his bride to the alter

But. life is such, that if one were a gambling man
it'd be no real show of madness to wager
that the usual strict order of things apply everywhere
and before too long, even the most lush of pastures
become bare with the seasons whim,
and even the best cared for roses become withered

There is however, no need for total despair
because if their two hearts are still bridged solid
and the morning air brings a more lenient tone
than that of the beer and nicitine the night before,  
the original sentiments should be strong enough
to withstand the extortion of feelings
from the troll that resides under every bridge    

Devil Woman



Petulant she is
her intellect on the rocks
mob handling all of his
finances to be lost
her luminosity stinks
of bedraggle , lax embossed .

With each fresh morning
brings scorn and full extortion
not stealthy , slick nor dazzling
she's a troll strict on haggling  
with a cheery , nicotine grin
halfway to paradise
from her sins
she greets I who hates her
for she can't impersonate
no mater .

FRESH
You  have   to   get  focused  on  your  game
in the Morning empty  your  brain  ready  to play
Put   everything  else  behind, forget   your  pain
Then   start  off   by  giving  the  best.

You   have  to  get  focused  on  your  game
Its   useless   for  you  to  fight  hate
Believe  me   its   a  must    to  feel  pain
Concentrate   deeply   for  you  to  win  the   race.

You   have  to  get  focused  on  your  game
Forget  all  the  bad  comments  that  they  say
Struggle  on  the  moment, add  something  everyday
Practice   hard   and  you  will   win  if   you  believe  in  yourself.

You  have  to  get   focused   on  your   game
Since   each   strong  effort  must  yield  success
After   the   worst, there  is   something  great
All   you  have   to  do   is   just  see  ahead.

You  have  to  get  focused  on  your  game
This   moment   you   poses  is  just  blessed
So  go  in   and  use  your  head  well
Since   victory  will  be  the   core  at  the  end.

The luminosity of my despair drills a hole through my mind
The clock is ticking, the one for my life
A forthright tale has come to an end, as reality has hit
The pain sears through my body, breaking me down

The morning to come has extortion of pain
A distant memory of a spotless marriage, so peaceful, cheerful
Now withered with the order of fate, suppressed with no glee
Taken away has the love once seen by all, modest in all way
An original flower of their thoughts bloomed with their actions

Hiding from all is my nicotine I need
No one to save me, not even halfway
My soul is a troll, over and over it rolls, good to bad
They see me fall, hard to the ground I lay, though they think I exaggerate
Melancholy floods through my mind, pulling me harder down below all that succeeded

I act lenient to those who show such pity, I want none of
As if scheduled the pain hits again, powerful with order shall it be
I see fates end right in front, yet pulling away as if to taunt me
It hides and shows with a strict manner, showing me how it's done
As if to sleep I fall by extortion, drifting away, in fates hands I pass

Don't know if I am too late, but lol  Here ya go

Earth Sciences Under The Mason Dixon Line


Hollywood, New York even, has learned little about sweeping star-sand up under rugs in Alabama. Capote was too dazzling for this place. Truman was too dazzling for himself as well.

Siphon how "on the rocks" tinkles
in urban hemispheres,who impersonate stealthy
cores left under nicotine twinkles of a longer
established cheery looking universe.

So, slick like a comet, that troll hauled ass out of here, letting the tail end of his little luminosity shine from under another bridge.

You'll swallow anything when
ravenous for chlorophyll answers
to the hunger gnawing your wood-less
gut with a hot tar tread..

But Harper stayed, finding a porch with a Pulitzer view, where fire-flies are still a child's meteor shower, and a Southern Sunday morning will bedraggle mantled praying any day.

Go on grinding that road
down, subtracting lax miles
from Spring, and Autumn life.
Nibble at the rubble

Cosmic extortion is debt a revolutionary city mob doesn't know how to pay.  But we, on the other hand are ransom-willing  when it comes to Paradise here.

of an Asphalt Winter, splintering
organic ache across chipped bones.
But we'd rather eat Summers of strict
sciences for future endless hibernation.

Atticus was fresh moonlight, with a scorn for petulant pricks of jag waiting to be sucked, black holes, halfway done with their business of seeping out of dark places

where the Bloody ground always faces Heaven