Velvety roses so pleasing to the senses
Convey such messages as apologies and love
The aroma of angels in blue blurry skies
When the spirit of giving comes from above
To brighten your new day
With magic and laughter
A spectrum of colors
So brilliantly captured
A life refreshed
Each moment begins
The happiness of new days
Is the energy we send...
What words to choose for a sudden inebriation?
A cacophony of lyrical opiates,
Amorous with the linguistic calculation,
Submerged in the mind, uttered copious.
Drunk on an emotion in the twilight,
Singing to all the crepuscular creatures,
Language lulling yet never refrains its delight,
Understood like words of the preachers.
That’s how but why?
Because beauty builds on aesthetics,
Through sounds spoken on high,
And rhyming reveal those familiar tricks.
By virtue of allurement construction,
At the hand of resonance raised,
And verse venture until destruction,
Into the silence which shall be praised.
If it is to be said then should it be plainly?
Then what of poets creatively conjuring?
I know why we offer words humanely,
Too create images that are conquering.
my anxiety roots inside my lungs, it makes me short of breath
trying to build a tree inside me with leaves of panic and death
and my chest pumps hard with my drum of an organ
I just want to be happy, I just want to do it for them
because these people are intimidated when they see me in person
because I always look sad and down, like a drama film I'm rehearsing
so I'm on a life long scavenger hunt, and it's happiness I'm searching
and I just want to stand up, but this places just makes me slip
until I hurt all over, floor against my hip and I' just want to sink under
since they just run and leave, hearing the words my lips utter
my thoughts are never white, only black so I guess I'm out of color
I lay in bed, music blasting, staring at the ceiling
temper hot as a fresh cup of darjeeling
darling, please leave me be
because my mind is a cage
I just wish it'd be set free
Eyes wide open, glancing around
Deserted, dark, pitch-black hallway.
Scar on her left eye
asymmetrical bangs, reminder of the past.
Petite hands reaching the glass knob.
pale white paint peeling off...
SHE. HAS. RETURN
We tried our best to make this horror inspired poem...
I was the greatest magician in the world.
Things were going great.
My agent booked me to play
the Mirage Hotel in Las Vegas
for $100,000 per performance!
When I got onstage
everything suddenly disappeared.
I'm not sure if it was all
an illusion or a delusion,
but I cashed the check anyway
just to be safe.
Sorry, I can't talk now. I'm busy writing up a storm.
How about tomorrow?
Sorry, tomorrow I'm bust conjuring up a tornado.