Saturday, August 2, 2008

Mission the Moon 7/30/08 4:17 PM

I am on a quest like mission.
To one day land on the moon,
Do the earth walk dance with me.
And as we rattle in the midnight grove.
I settle my dues, and learn to have fun with my muse.
It’s that beautiful universal cocoon.
Hatch a butterfly look now it’s a worldly view.
Words are plenty and many People know,
How they want to be living there life.
Hand on the kite, like flying it, late in the night.
With the car key attached,
Swift with the grasp sitting duck a easy catch.
Long boards of wood create the path way,
To walk over the mud from the rain water,
On your new shoes is no fun,
The sun dries them out but they still look like crud.
Hand washed, at the local river.
Based on the message I’m a believer.
A swift reader who is neither wither or either
Hehe
Out of character in America.
A Tarantula in panama.
Serious business at hand. First Class private grade.
Apple juice apricots and bananas.
Tea squeezed from three gypsies.
Poured over granola.
Millions of hands held on the heavenly orb.
The moon,
The miracle of existence. The harvest
Center stance inhale exhale.
Circling breath with each and every step, lunar solar.
The Strategy masculinity balanced with the feminist.
What a coincidence that the coin flip landed on tales.
Exercise the settlement,
Investigate the elements.
What a sexy Ultimatum, silly thing is,
There is no penalty lessons generally teach,
With a chance to learn, no more wood to burn,
High strung from hanging around to much.
Having it all trading it to have more.
Overall pull to understand the view.
Take credit when credits due,
Each step original no matter the length.
Crossing rivers with out getting wet,
Basking in the Bermuda sun. Salvation came.
Along with new sneakers, how neat.
Expensive vacation for the foreigners.
No one seemed to mind, buckets bursting over the line.
Pockets full of cherries,
It seems to me that they are all tasty,
Their could even be a few extra sweet.
Some have definitely gone bad.
Or at least had a better taste before becoming sour.
Inspired still intriguing just not as alluring.
That sweet lusty Klondike river full of gold.
Pour me some reason make it hot with a lemon.
Everlasting aftertaste,
We almost had something solid melt away,
Like a ice cube on the beach,
Ultimately dissolving in to the air,
Back to another form, only to return once again.

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