Is Hope Of

A word perhaps to me is hope
and hope you used to use a lot.
Without perhaps it being hope for naught.
A lot of hope about the things you are,
and you are all the things I hoped about.
You of hope at night the moon the light I write about.
And you write about the thoughts of hope,
and make them come to pass and write of that.
Ardently your mouth of hope, not going over there.
You who are without to be and I am crossing over.
Green bushes hold within my hope, blue open flowers.
Afterwards through fog or loam a stream flows slowly after.
I saw so bright the torch of hope from here to there beside us.
So there are we.
And are we there, for loving it sits about us.
Me I simply am, you and I, comes hope a certain thing.

poem by Is It Poetry
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writing Poetry

writing poetry
stories of love
one happy marriage
sex and the sun
deep pale moon
hot my passion
can run cold as ice
smell the rose
lily is gay
sugar and spice
lilies nice
water stay mirrors death
skipping rocks
breast feed the beast
without baby a day
night loves between each toe
god holds off the devil
wine, drugs death more sex
hurting children is worse than bad
one child can make peace

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Takin a Bite in Liberty

Hold on let me grab that rattle snake
before it bites your utters and they fall
off no milk no hay sad day Ola) it(s o.k..

He will go to a different ranch the ranch
of pain, where we send the women hawks.
You know those old looking dried up ain't
had the sap God gave a pine tree seedling
for lightning strikes) it(a year from next week.

You got me all side traced from pain and
suffering plus I'm gettin excited thinking of
) it(swellon up after the snake chomps down
and shoots half an once of liquid fire in pop's
ole jhonson out board don't run nomore no how.

That's) it(s turning blue and green purple looky
veins busstun he's outa gass anyhow you git the
genral direction the winds blown your fun ifin you
stop to long in our town of Takin a Bite in Liberty.

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The Ditraction, S

To make you a word,
UN repulsive, soft alive,
sharp to cut, blush to rush, is experiment's,
half of life.
To holds you still, pinned as emo, boy, girl
cutting around up down, while the mirror,
calls your name.
You, ..your rose it's softness unconfined
in silks plush, cupped breath of hand,
you are it's name, it is what..tell me?
You Sir: chained to the wall, gagged muffled,
it's she, hears you SOB uncontrollably, as she in black
leather lays it on again, it's more again, than not.
It's OJ that you run our town, after all we golf together.
Disruptions, pour mad T.V..unremitances, eruptions
controlled guided, on preachers court, our time rushes
in on one last glorious,
round of applause, you know,
your show must go on, without pause.
Remember to smile at the usher, crushed verve's is back..

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The Hand That Rocks The Craddle Pink

Pink used to be the preferred color for boys.
Clouds of white for girls.
The cradle... optimistically oufitted in pink,
is the color for boys, that for a girl being true blue.
Blue) a Virgin’s color (
used once for girls and pink for boys tossed out.

Pink, is as a shade of red
was considered masculine it is a “fierce color”
while blue is frilly and decidedly delicate.

Reason goes is that pink being more a decided
and stronger color is more suitable for the boy,
while blue,
which is more delicate and dainty, is a prettier fop
than poor the toiling girl.

Boys in pink.
Blue girls and is quite tamed in us famous,
but she also has a less known work called,

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Robert the Bruce

Meditation you and to it barges are pulled out parades
and mediate your purple reigned will
shrouded too you comes the effervescent rain
and glands alive deep inside
the brain one half or to your it's other
live and let live but to die
far a slice of English pie, curried in favor
the sun when it rises the hill covered top
full with, 'Robert the Bruce she keeps full with snow
when it melts whom but the keeper must know
and i will but a will made of old yellow paper
and roads well known when I changed
and lines drawn out not in sand but in minds
are they kept as the tide moving out can come in
is more land made thus simple with machines
and sea walls of dark stone where none there were
mixed with shell and cypress for color
and purple thick cedar is Caesars a barge
where it rests it is marked, marked naught the sea.
as Sara, her gown how it glows................

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Sexual Attraction

At the hospital where he works.
Speaking he can convey,
with the ninety two year old corpse.
Mirrors every where warm trees cold bushes.
92 leaves speaking she shakes it only for him.
Bony old woman no ham.
After finding the light corpse
he checks the cotton on the rigid smile if it was.
Ninety two years old where you are detained.
You can hear the limbs cracking as the corpse gives.
Turned over on it's belly I seem like observer.
There is no sound commonly appreciated with sucking noises.
It was the very first time,
I had ever seen a shoe horn used on the moon.
Except for the golf swing by Shepard.
Brutal crimes on the dead better I think than on the living, still.
The family has a long history of patients and of those.
Emphatic and it has resonated a cord completely.
Watching him talk as if and it is somber fearfully.
You read to late it written before he came a dying declaration.

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Treatment-Resistant Depression

I have been treated for depression
but my symptoms have as yet to improve me.
I think,
I may have have treatment-resistant depression.

Taking an antidepressant or going through
all of that psychological counseling.
What (psychotherapy) puts me through,
I am ill at ease
then comes some latter I date your depression.

Unlike most people
whom for not most if not all are such people.
This treatment for treatment-resistant depression.
When standard treatment was never enough.

Flakes of snow leave white claws and dark marks.
Before I was born
and the world knew dark matter,
I was left such like you to ponder it all in depression.

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Piles Of Half-shells

while watching and we all have
and all will
why do most deny it.
weather it is this or that.
climbing trees untill the
very tops
even if the vines
around it
take you out of your way
you feel it in the tree
right before.
even if the first few climbs
result in
and or catch you off guard.
tree or vine symbiotic
host or hostess
one or the other as the
fingers clutch
at each nook and cranny.
some times forcing an early

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poem by Is It Poetry
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Death Married Death In Death

Death looks at a flower, screaming I am beautiful
look here I am, come eat me, alone.
Death hovers, smiling, never waiting, walking always
by, knowing that,
any thing that touches it will also soon, never die.
Death is love, love is death, why are you both, death
is your pet pink pig, and two flying pearls.
Death is a dry cracked nipple, sleeping, holding on
to the flesh untill it falls off.
Death is a bullet fixed, never moving, why does the
world move you through it.
Death is a voice always quite, sounding alarms to
walk across the street knowing you look while you
come running.
Death is a woman, who is crazy, thinking the world is
spinning into her coffee.
Death to all men who think they can save the woman
by marring death and eating her sandwich.
Death fingered you, you loved it, now you finger me,
leaving my bee exposed on the flower, you buzzed.

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poem by Is It Poetry
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