Where in our myriad of color could foundation lie
That kalidascope expressing amour
Those expectant ventures we’d traverse in joy
Those visions we came to adore
They be our height and buoyancy to depth
They were fancy within our minds
So Fancy Colors, psychologically
Gave birth to our infinite finds
They lie at our dawn, rooted in pace;
With the exceleration we learnt should be cheer
Humbled we were to those silent pells
Only in heart could we hear
Let us wake clever our fortitude
We were models in love’s living rudder’s
T’was the conviction where our foundation lie
A tenacity for Fancy Colors
My woman is
sensuous fibers of
Laughing out loud.
She hides her
behind sunlit blushes,
And never shows weaknesses
through sighs or tears.
Being raised by hero’s
under southern skies,
She knows how to sop buttered bread
in mayple syrup.
She’s a lover of today. . . . .
Tomorrow’s dream love. . . . .
The Subject Compared
I am the subject, compared by you subjects, for your pleasure by subject,
This subject compared.
To compare the subject, the subject compared, one must honor as subject,
The first subject bared.
So play as the subject, with subjects in view,
Subjects from old, and subjects made new.
Such cancels subject’s issue, doubting subjects for “why”,
Enhancing the subjects main subject, you lie.
One above is an absolute, written above to view.
Guess it later or guess it now;
Nothing’s old made new.
“God”, you say, is subject’s issue,
Whether you laugh or cry?
Well it’s love I give, in a subject’s fashion,
A subject as mine, no lie.