Poem 95- A reference for every thought

A reference for every thought

Deconstruct all you think and find the link
To the last time you felt that way
Heard the words
Learned that fact
Disassemble the pieces of the things and
Actions you hold to be true
Find the place in the litany of your life
And note down the author, the theorist
The lover and map the route to the
Conurbation of storehouses and pyramids
Of belief and time
Track each thought, each breath, each moment
That constructed these towns of ideas
And live the informed like evaluating each
Placement
Fortify only the foundations of these that
Hold under such intense surveillance

Poem 94-Kiss me goodbye before you leave the house

Kiss me goodbye before you leave the house

We live here, it’s ours
We like here, its ours
We love here, its ours
We laze here, its ours
We lock up the door to keep what’s ours inside
Just kiss me goodbye before you leave the house

We kiss, we create what’s ours
We sneeze, we bless what’s ours
We explain, we provide what’s ours
We remind, we enhance what’s ours
We lock up the door to keep what’s ours inside
Just kiss me before you leave the house

We smile, we caress, we know, we feel
We encounter, we desire, we request and
Create and sanctify what’s ours
Please lock the door and kiss me goodbye
before you leave the house

Poem 93- Somewhere inside, so deep it cannot be seen

Somewhere inside, so deep it cannot be seen

You asked whether it was there, deep
Inside. I’ll hazard a guess it might be, but
I have no proof, no reason to believe it is.
Maybe, I hope it is, like so many other concepts
I wish I could see. But repeating history leads me to
Believes hope shrivels as it gets no response.
But that’s the way. Hope begets more hope? Right?
Or is hope the precursor to dissolution of mind
And the end of illusion?
Illustrate a world where hope for the feeling deep inside
Is only enhanced by failure. And I show
A path to a place where childish fantasy
And care are the only instructions,
And life is lived on the smoke of dreams
Made perfect, trapped in a bubble.

So, I guess, I hope so, I hope its somewhere
There deep down inside, somewhere I can’t see
It. But it’s warm and safe on a paved street
Sign posted with memories of antiques and
Experiences so far off my little self no longer
Remembers

Poem 92- Lady Malcolm Manchester

She looked to find the meaning of life
She searched to improve what was
Already best
She aimed to surpass all the expectations
Her character had already reached
Every day better
Every day safer
She fought battles to keep control of things
She already had
She dressed with elegance inspite of herself
And others around her
She transferred beauty and peace to all
She encountered
Every day better
Every day safer
She made steps she was too young to make
She held steadfast to her beliefs throughout
She tried harder more consistently
Every day better
Everyday safer
Until all her own suppositions could
No longer cling on and she had created
An igloo of safety
I hope she's nice an warm in the winter.