What to see,
when the sea,
of my ocean has no
Where my shoe left my sandals,
of all laces,
I can see the peace
where i left that piece.
to encase all that which is not even tangible
to fill and to sort all of nutrients
with all the cesspool what all of
So at least it can take out all shit from it.
To find the fingers which can construct a word, a verb, a noun.
To make a statement out of a sentence, and to subdue all clause
to form a paragraph into a story.
Then you know The heart does matter,
and the Poem has gone away,
coz the navel of the novel stayed.
a definitive accusations wherein lies a heart dismantled.
. . of one’s own amusement;
. . of one’s own lamentations;
but only one true construct
One heart remains beating to the rhythm.
would that be,
who still loves us,
Who can . .
This conduit can make my eye,
yet all of the sea of my tears cannot look.
Blurred love is all I get,
Obscured hate is what I take upon.
Why would all of me,
wail and flail about every time
you question my love for U.
Once upon a dramatic love I sheltered,
At the heart of which to Love,
is not even to be at peace,
waiting on trust that is always paid,
that of betrayal.
©oam ®artsydhude, 97-18 ™XENOphagz
Break apart my heart,
it wil cry,
it will try.
Go ahead kill my soul,
you will try,
and yes I will cry.
At the art of my own two arms,
I will unfold,
I will make my fingers bleed to my bone.
the art of my heart,
®artsydhude, all artworks thereof. 97-18
A coat and tie seemed wrinkled at the hour of 6 am to main avenue.
For this frap stain came late before this hot mama was in line,
a smirk of a smile, then txted me her num as she bumps three people in tow.
At third and quarter past, a vid call came in,
then a beautiful shout from someone I never saw,
yet it rang the bell as the doors cannot yell.
muttering and said myself to sleep,
as this frap creeped into my sock,
Fired again for the first day,
I can’t even keep.
For all those who work 9- til,
this is for U.
w/o U all, we can never survive.
Sincerely us grunts.
®all artworks by artsydhude 97-18
Tell me what is the first thing in mind,
List it some say,
Do it anyway,
or have tech do it for U.
I’d get me one way ticket to the land of the rising sun,
where the hot mead doesn’t bore the soul.
In a stupor of wanting more
a blonde aryan who can never speak,
but the butt and or it busts
your alcohol down where it
follows to where Nidhogg speaks.
that be the land;
of ice and stone,
of the love of all gods dead and reborn,
of all wisdom in a mead out of a horn.
Then tell me you puny humans,
scurry about what life you can lead,
into a nonsensical greed of the weed,
that do become nothing into the air we all breathe.
©oam® all artworks by artsydhude 97-18
what were you thinking when you have left me in the memory
at least there I am well fed first by my hunger of these greedy fingers and hungry eyes
to know how and when to stop reading without technology to tell me to sleep.