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jerome moore Poems
and with a blast of silence i experience all and nothing and become further consciousness a place where the chains of perception are lifted
Walking Walking Walking
into reality an invisible barrier turn back now to whence you came... like a sheet of glass
I have decided to skip the cold derelict night and stay inside where I am still fairly warm. Totally digging you tonight! our dates seem to end up running away from us and too soon, I could chat with you all day long and still feel like I need to dig you more, You make me happy and I feel we understand each other well and right now at this very moment in my life I feel at peace and everything feels right.
Frottage Heavy petting mutual masturbati...
She tells me to meet her where the street dancers busk it. leaves In the crowd I find her and begin a frotteuristic grind ≈ 'i want your body on me' electric hands on her waist her butt rising in heat and sinking like on the tide of the hip hop. Then I follow her into a changing stall at the galleria where we engage in heavy petting, then we finish ourselves off in the elevator to the street of mutual masturbation … When I get to the apartment with a new shower curtain they are sitting at the table eating some sort of Pasta and meat sauce Cam telling her to EAT! …
The television tells me what I should do and to obey. The church tells me to trade my soul for rules and traditions to act by. The teachers tell me to listen to shut up, there will be a test you must pass. put it in black and white,
give her a little freaky freaky she look...
And This is Richmond
I wonder through a land of great impressions dreaming of Richmond, flag limp against black horizon, bleakly marching through the falling city, scraps thrown to wolves that dance around cinders in snow.
I am a cold rock out at sea and I feel it. I wan't your warm body shipwrecked on me
I see in your body a moist banquet, a loveable feast. I imagine myself a naked tramp, adorned in purloined barber rags, plodding the meringue on grit and vanishing wave, the stink of sour urine and fire walks beside me, through an endless desert, about as wide as it is long pulsating under an oppressive light bulb. With each step I drop into the stinging sand I feel emaciation tickling my toes tempting me to fall wrapping its fingers and slightly teasing me down from the tightrope I walk bare...
I took my drum and beat it
. I took my drum and beat it as they say -sounding like I had a tambourine in my pants! I reasoned that some ferocious sublimation on the esplanade was on the menu. It might do me a whole lot of good,
Cats Cradle! Cats Cradle
Upon our first meeting I began to rhyme. You sucked the saliva from my tongue, then hid away when I came up on you clumsily stumbling you grabbed my pupils and hindered me,
clacking phonemes tiger lilies mute to pounce like fires in hills
Skid Row! its where I'm destined to go beneath the fallen branches and clogged gutters
Drop Bars not Bombs Make Chai not War Baseball not Bombs Books not Bombs
Comments about jerome moore
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
and with a blast of silence
i experience all and nothing
and become further consciousness
a place where the chains of perception are lifted
and I am free out of mind and body
the walls are burning down around me
and I am nowhere