Love Poem: Inferno Yawn
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Written by: Jim Cross

Inferno Yawn

rise and shine deflect common sense while white dilapidated guts spawn oppossing beats an treats that are not so daring as uncommon feats and relativity clings to gravity and in spite of everything nothingness has texture while tasting peripheral anxiety and a habit with no friendly reputation thats ever the same while changing the channels of worn out waves and pick me ups spinning invisible collisions and whose glancing judgements color lessons and love songs and frustration taken aback with the same acceleration as calm sighs and backgrounds and colorful harmonies whose chances of fate dare speculative rhythmic pixilations that lack for words that were not easy in context but preferable and the memorized bass of an unhappy day can't mold guilt nor regretful smiles shyly content for the moment and it will pass like it or not they stay the course and take a chance and listen to a suggestion and you just never know hard work and disappointment can color statements and tug judgement and the sum of comfort quake like a landslide with hypnotic flashes of sensory recognition that cannot relax nor take the intangible paying attention and in between today's brazen and challenging statements that smile and feel it all like a whisper of a happy hurt while sensory breezes determination and hopeful wonder turning while crashing sequential harmonic miracles and so what's said after the dead is opening floodgates of fear and hunting for beauty while recognition hints of a champion like disposition and lawless sensibilities cater to the masses and aligning nuances making way for challenging statements faded purple cheap and reasonable hesitation and coming apart innocence begging impractical indifference and action of supreme suspicion and four legged masters of intention rest with eyes open and the irrelevant and irresistible bite of life's stories in a world of their own lie listening and not caring and running as if someone cared about beaming perspectives and suspicion and weeping roots whose branches wither and stay together but not too close and space and grace grant appreciation for one but not the other and treasures replicas of misguided history not for greater good nor for lack of trying or understanding because we're not here to rest but to learn about meaning of one another meanwhile they're on fire and frozen and fill a void and take space while providing sustenance for the human race each point of light perfect with purpose and hell bent to reach upward and downward and inward calming everything and coming together like magic the lines with hooks whose feet are endless and beyond we've no chance with exceptional unknowns and impossible tradition and all the while unknown intergalactic artists reign from the beginning to an end and a stand alone comedic front stand upright and proud with purpose and clever combinations so old by day and night and search out to not destroy but to achieve inner light and what she gives we take and after all is done and nothing said with what's lost over and over while unintentional u-turns provide opportunity to learn and beauty's contemplation cause awareness of inhalation and meaning and planning circumstantial tangible truths by listening to a voice no matter why the sickening fact that we like to capture pain as an entertaining nutrition and not know when or how to end it while seeking noise and who needs who anyway does not matter having something to say that is known to all beings to just keep from dying and without so much guessing not even close to answering uninformed questions and most accurately known as an interpretive stone whirring and blurring and ringing forbidden where uncertainty is a dead king and she is a beauty queen and opposites don't attract they simply react to an eternal dance so let's start over again in love's inferno yawn - 

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