I can be at times alot like
broken English mixed into
off beat stanzas making no sense
to anyone but myself cause
well...I get like that
like one piece written on
white paper with black ink
pencil and 2 different crayons
just cause I feel random
at times and do shit like that
but with him it's cool cause...

cause see he
go off and say shit
that is as calm and collected
as sonnets but can singe
some if read out of rhythm
so he know how sometimes
his haiku be bumping
into my tankas crashing
syllables all over the place
hurting my feelings sometimes
but always able to free verse
sketch me a smile back
on my face...so
we be...

we be beautiful erotics
in real time with slow music
embedded courtesy of Imeem
laying like acrostics with legs
spelling out what time will tell
one day as the prettiest prose
ever composed on blank pages
of scattered and tattered
still able to be flattered emotions
that whisper soliloquies toward heaven
a measured mix of muse and moody
I love him cause he love like my poetry
all over the place and passionately