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Pulsars are Passing

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Are you curious enough to seek?


                        Pulsar Part I

Her pulsar explosions create poetic spires

Pulses burst from light beams buckling her words


Her Milky Way fingers caress starlet themes

Sultry metaphors dance with cobalt dreams 

Melting ice cream girls all over dirty boys

Sprinkling funky shivers on top of surly toys


Her mantra of heat sunbathes deep in your soul

Changing ion silkworms into cosmic wormholes

She hums along with mercury’s hot gilded cries

As the heat from her words command you to rise


Her Textile tongue will delight your decadence

Licking the shape into Venus’s sexy silhouette

Vermillion satin glove sachets above water songs

As those familiar aromas slide off nocturnal palms


Nova filled ink fingers, teach wet syllables to drip

Red seas only part as words slip from her lips

Her thirst for anticipation snap crackling whips

Explosion of wonder, thunder under tortured hips


Searing then shaking gives a diamond studded surprise

While unleashing the rest with those precious jewel eyes

Creating a necklace from elastic spasms and erected wisdom

Staining rapture on a hanging painting of worn out collisions


She vamps in a camp blackened by simmering constellations

In cadence devils swarm into her stimulated angel cages

Burning wings of sweet sauce dipped into sensual sensation

When flying near her campfire words burn up in excitation


She’s a space high diver off the pillars of life

Atlas quit holding earth to make her his wife

Star boarding on comets soft powder tails

Riding the backside of Uranus snow whales


She’s a pulsar, supernova, dressed in halo hair red

Hiding in a sunrise she burns up the living dead

Blackbody radiator skinned within Cinderella’s snow

Photoelectric flagpoles polarized and charged to go


“Blue shifting men readying for the next event horizon show?”



Red Pulsar Part II

She was so uniquely dysfunctional with her wicked behind

She stained me with car music from 1949

The unwanted in the back seat burning fun smelling grass

Quid, Quid and I were showing off our pretty ass                                                                     


Red lined emerald green, skin colored white ice cream

Words wrung out wet and clean, bubbling from her seams

Her torn up weary worries, are now flying on her lover wings

Fame and wishes claimed so soon, mining the poet’s dream


Standing in her word world-she may sway

But into full blown glory-she’ll slay the day

Young fear can no longer send her presents

Fame has claimed her as its latest legend


I will watch from that distant shooting star

As your elevated poems takes you just as far

Finding greatness in youth can be too soon

But for those hungry of loves rhythmic tune


On top of the sun you must now rein

Two blue moons you’ll never be the same

Staining glass from earths falling down rain

Puddles of words will drink in your name


Songbirds are not taught but born to fly

Better to write from the clouds in the sky

Raining down words as they kiss your birth

Find all that you’re worth my little butterfly.


Are you strong enough to be weak?

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