O. C. Woods Poems

</>STARS MY PUNCTUATION
FOR THIS CHAOS INSPIRATION
DARK SPELLS NEXT TO MOONLIGHT CANDELS
THIS DAY I'VE READ THE NIGHT, SHE TOLD ME I WAS YOURS.
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</>HE IS SITTING ON THE BIG RED COUCH
GINGERBREAD CRUMS ON HIS CROUCH
WONDERING MIND AND SWALLEN ANCKLE
RED SHIRT ON and a need to tackle.
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Back from The Black Cloudy Weeks
Tired but on my feet and ready to eat the tricks
Days like raindrops I'll never wanted leading the end
Getting ready for goodbyes, again friend
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The muse of mornings and evenings
is running from room to room, in small wooden steps
procratination's fading away when she shines
tears dried up under her purple spells
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My favorite destination is your shore
that bright golden clear sky you pour

You walk I run to fill the gap of life being not what I've wanted
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Build up things that will perish soon through easy wind
broken kaleidoscope and road told awful but I'm not blind
green gems on dark lively earth and her litle woodhouse shines
many pictures of different posture sweet Love of ours
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When mornings Winter wakes I'm lost, blind
meadows to valleys blurred with seas
the need to cross is no release
betting on the continuation through time
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TIDAL ARMS AND TWO PEOPLE TO CALL MINE
PREVENTING ME TO DREAD THE EXPLODING SUN

THE END IS NOT NEAR FOR US STARS
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The song is new so are issues
When closeness is erased by distance
I feel sitting in one of these '80 windows' across the street
Blaming panta rhei or the definition of a degree?
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Dear old friends my soundtrack for a white night
Snow or sleepless? both and killing thought

write on this day that the poet is dead
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