Rolling like balls in motion When the breeze hits the holes In the veins pass the air In drops and the dead breathe to laugh Like a circus clown on a roller coaster
Dust restless on the cement floor Settles on the grooves and the garden sands Move on to the beaches where Dogs crawl over their masters' footsteps Digging holes to defecate Throwing a shower of yellow around in circlets
Boat shaped petals hang in hesitation On the branches not knowing their present For colored days have passed To the soil because it sucked juice through Roots and licked the wind as syringes Educe blood that dry in ruby drops
Clothes thin out in sheets like an anorexic And make the first holes when stretched Like rubber bands and the water makes them Softer so they wear out like parts of a machine Cells of hair, grey streaks bring nostalgic visions To the eyes, lost songs to the lips once again
Re: No Bukowski doesn't write like this at all. It's true I don't follow one specific style and every single poem I write is of a different style because that's my poetic experimentation, but I don't imitate anyone's style either.
Reviewed by Jerry Bolton (Reader)
Reviewed on August 30, 2007
Realism to the nth in this Bukowski-ish poem . . .
Reviewed by Victor Buhagiar (Reader)
Reviewed on August 29, 2007
Life seen as it can be, no romance but harsh and real. In poetry one tends to fantasize, you draw a different picture. Excellent poem. Victor
A way to use your mind for silent communication. Speaking about the methods in the book I have used since a young age.
21st Century learning. I also have a GoFundMe page to ask for funds so I can research with other people and add their experiences
The second book in the telepathy series. It contains more ways for the up and coming telepathist to experiment with the sending and receiving of thoughts and is at the end of the story about future telepathy people found unexpectedly chosen by the go
enjoyed.....
Art Sun....
Thank you,
Chris
ET