7200
This Totally
Tubular Thinker
Touts Taylor Swift
(distilled from
the playlist crucible
quite some
time ago,
but happened
upon just today).
(powerful piquant
punchy pheromone
producing playlist,
plumbs psyche,
prestidigitation pricks
paparazzi phalanx,
prompting peculiar
poetic paean, parsing
piecemeal perky,
praising pronounceable
puckish packed
performances, presenting
physically pleasing,
powerful pipes
predicating personal
prevailing preference).
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Thee Mademoiselle found,
or made a place
in the world for yourself
aching like a boy
out in left field
pining to catch
that high fly
there there ain't
nothing 'bout you,
(nor Brooks
and Dunn) I can attest
even if hypothetically,
we spent eons
at an all night diner
where culinary staff
knew thee
all too well
and perhaps
all you wanted
(shared with
Michelle Branch)
perhaps positing
the rhetorical question –
am I ready
for love?
With an
American boy
or a bosom
best buddy
re: best
friend forever
with an
American girl
if someone
got cross,
tis beneficial
(in this
one republic)
to apologize
regardless, whom
ye choose
as a confidante,
the following refrain
plays in
your mind
baby don't you
break my
heart slow
(at least according
to Vonda Shepard)
memories
no doubt arise,
when thee hapt
to be a
baby girl
thoughts unspool
back to December
beautiful eyes
peered at a
fractured reflection
before the love story
would begin again,
while ebbing,
and flowing
with my baby
recalling
Bette David eye
(taking visual
delight sans
world tour live)
reminding self
how better off
the choice made
tis much better
than revenge
but umpteen
times bother
I will
asper boys
and love
combustible mix –
nonetheless
always reminding
myself to breathe
deep, cuz
being breathless
likened to
a taste
of death,
(I admit
better than Ezra)
learning how
to act
points back
asper being
brought up
that way
lessons oft
learned
getting busted
oh...and
by the way
can I go
with you?
Can you feel
the love tonight?
Discern
ache kin
to sand
castles crumbling?
such granular,
or solid state matter
doth forced
to change
attested to
by chaperone dads,
who dressed
as Santa Claus invoked
that Christmas
must be some
thing more
especially, Christmases,
when you
were mine
ah...closest
to a cowboy
as “sigh” ever got
or tasting
Gunstock rattle
snake pulverized,
yet countenance goose
(and found you
under the care
of Chet Atkins
at the
make believe
medical center)
shivered flesh
against cold
as you
though desiring
thee to
come back...
he here
no doubt prone
to announce
crazier requests asked
even crazier
(as demonstrated
by flash
mob generated
by Hannah
Montana,
one live wire)
if able
to glean
my sentiments...
cross my heart
aware as
an adult feeling
the life
source of daddy
or mommy,
while hinting
with a
stone temple piloted
cold stare
double dare
you to move
(or switch foot),
one to another
das feet –
planted within
pitch dark
blue Tennessee
dwelling
with thoughts
of ma
dear Digdan
or writing
an imaginary letter
starting...”dear John”
ample melancholy
maudlin material
to complete
bind a
diary of me
yes concert
cavorting circumstances
avoidable,
though didn't they
make chase
like butterflies,
and don't
they hate me
for loving you?
so please
don't tell me
you want to,
when I don't
want to anymore
argh, yet
impossibly unshakable
the recurring
thought don't you
act indiscriminately
as when
down came
the rain,
washed
the spy dir out
following suit (wet)
drenching yea...
one drama queen
with chin amen
along pearl
harbor drive
(in conjunction
with Alan Jackson)
presaging Jiving
drops of Jupiter
(train chugging,
clacking, clattering
railing gestalt
of alien nation)
and all of a sudden
like how odd though...
thinking about
eighth grade graduate,
when lifetime
seemed enchanted
now everything
has changed
eyes open
(“hunger games”)
maketh me –
fall back on you
instant
messaging you –
fall into
me fearless,
though only fifteen
and how
against pyrotechnics,
you find your
way back home
on the
fourth of July
perhaps led
by a zeppelin
sized firefly
ah, I ask myself
who is
the foolish one?
Me for you
forever & always
(a platinum edition)
for girl
at home
(donned in
deluxe edition)
going bananas
in reference
to Amazing Gracie
swaggering,
and immune
to gun powder
& lead,
(whose leading
lady Miranda Lambert)
whatsapp penned
left her
looking haunted
heartbreaker –
(my words –
like Tom Petty)
about her,
but unsure
if our
thoughts aligned
anyway, here
you go again
(Dolly Parton)
a hero heroine
so...I clamor
to yell out
“hey soul sister”
and hey Stephen
along the
boulevard of
broken dreams,
this ribbon
highway don't care
about trumpeting
his lies
nor desecrating
holy ground
honey baby,
yes ye in
the mom jeans,
I feel hopelessly
devoted to you
(as doth
Olivia Newton)
instinctively
keen how
to save a life
bobbing buoyantly
amidst the fray.
