Email Lady Aleena on Blogspot Lady Aleena on eBay Lady Aleena on GitHub Lady Aleena on Google+ Lady Aleena on IMDb Lady Aleena on PerlMonks Lady Aleena on tumblr Lady Aleena on twitter Lady Aleena on Wikipedia Lady Aleena on YouTube
Lady Aleena's avatarLady Aleena

Brian Hardie

Send a message to Brian Hardie.

Tomorrow Is Yesterday Is Today

Maybe the under garment was a diluted
Invite to sit in the rain. I'll take the gift
And be on my way to the anti-suppressant
Seminar. Tomorrow and the recent past are only
Of great consequence in the meaning of truth. Tall tales
Collide when my hair is below my eyes, requesting
Permission to be blown in the wind. Reduce chest pains
By taking the anemic side.
Replace the rubber love boat by sneaking up on the great white.
I'll sit on your porch and linger until a visitor comes to take
The silence away. Bring on the melodies under the surface,
And conduct an action of superior social livelihood. Bring down
The buildings, who ask the heavens for a little breathing space.
Walk past the racial differences in this October summer cold.
Bypass on feelings that concentrate on a friendless man in
Desolate bindings.
Forget punctuation and write a masterpiece.
Building blocks to a new failing future rip up the pages
That carries a childhood scent. Make public the little boy
On the sidewalk that opens his arms to any windshield wiper.
I'm too small to see when the resident explains.
Walks right through me and
The daily paper notes. I'll fast until I have to leave this
Criminal state of bliss. Walk to the empty room and leave the badge
Behind. Scribble your thoughts and keep a divine presence. Maybe the clouds
Will clear for my journey home.

Affronted, Northeast Portland

Even, the basement was empty, the
Sounds of trickling would inject into the
Gutters. The sounds unpleasant to the leafless eye, apart
From the needs of yours truly, Mr. Destruction Enthusiast. What are these lips
Trying to say? Frankly, the elucidation does not ratify your sermon.
But who is to blame in the first place? Your Soul Provider? The crooning
Homeless just blocks away from your temporary residence?!
…I cower
…I crouch
…I crawl

Alone in the grass hills, the wall returning the ball. You
Call out to imaginary players, wishing, "vamoose, vamoose!" as
They randomly drop anchor.

Making headway, pushing on from unwashed carpets. If you feel
So obliged to understand, remember this: You are burning away
In a land of guilt, your feet are a Roman spring in the sand, all but to
Petrified to swim away. My friend, do not feel accompanied by gentle hands.
Exhale with half a breath and let the tide weep in your wake.

Toxin-Laced Letter

Step into the light once
More for the benefit of your own speculation.
Down under the lights on the street fabricate
Your dawn-to-dark, destined to be taken in the mask
Of a growing dependency. Observe much? Shed the
Twilight in the making of times. Memories
To play for, when there are no more clouds to bombard.
I take an Image and make the weight gain more
to wake up the
Connecting temptation.
This slope of a process.
A spiral buried in the sand.
Troublemaker's sight
The gesture and awaken to the fountain of youth,
Fixing their tries. Are you ever inquisitive about what you channel?
The escape of a lost cause, defining the moments in unison, hanging up.
I encountered the same situation tonight under a black dome. Little holes,
Spectacles of light.
I came home a simple man.

Earthbound Ghost Need

Incognito, with long hair in a green caravan.
She sits steady and speaks fast.
Building her future in front of a paused moment,
In the past.
The pale moist contains the key to a short life.
No more food to hide.
Witnesses perform a circus beyond the grave.

Glazing defeat.
Discovering the next country that will embrace the beast.

Chocolates tarnish the path to where I write.
I hold it to no god to inject fathom and insight.
"Live, and let live," deemed the up-town character.
"A whistle will clear the hills of killers you'll try to beat."

Rise above the subsided constraint, believe
You will keep the bar straight.
Cast aside the flame of doubt, and keep
The ashes to dream about.

Eating Raw Bread With A Mammoth

The kitchen floors are covered with my memories.
Like possessions I left behind for friends to endure.
Their reasons unsure to me,
Though perfect legacies for their tough
2 bedrooms.
Oh, those thoughts could burn out
The lamp on those latent, patient fiends.
Springing a concern only to compose a lie.
Animal instinct almost hid the gun.
A models figure saved facts,
To sprout violence on low income.
Vanilla candles wont cure those tattoos.
Only if saving time leads inclination
To thirst for truth.
A seed, symmetrical of walls, dividing planted emotion.
Time lasts the time of losing weight.
Rib cages are puppets for my stomachs stress intake.
Transition needed on my peeling skin.
Wasting another take as I wade my mates in.

Attracting Worms On July Something…

There's always an agenda in the Willow
Springs, there in Sin Territory.

It's not another drug bust,
My darling,
Been reading on the top,
Now scarring.

Taste the beatings of random visits;
I hear their delight with tragic, positive wits.

They watched from an angle,
To put us in the clear.
"Her bus stopped in L.A.,"
Some said, around here.

History is repeating itself, monotonous.
Trust there will be gay men adoring the both of us.
Trust itself…
Learn from the need of drugs.
Who is willing to walk to the corner of
6th and Pseudo Thugs?

The environment smells of new breeds in the back.
She would pull that knife out before she had more
Worms attract.

Sure thing to be the rose.
To castrate paranoia wont appetize, I suppose.

Democratic Rash

I'm marinating naked, in the early mourning,
Preparing the frost to bite into the future
Of my brides trauma.

Leaking.
Yes, a word must describe the synthesis
Of my possessed polarity, scratching notes from a Polaroid era.

Since history has set their feet into
The Throne,
It hibernates. We can make
The stature racist and ill tempered
A sad willow in the wind.

Democratic Rash- I'll scratch if you spread.

Comments