Many Tapestries are Woven
The sun beat down upon the globe
saturateing rows of blue miasma
Hues of yellow threw reflection
scattering like condensation
cast before a strobe light blinking
upon the vast horizon's mirrored
ocean of sinking constellations
Shadows fray from midnight twine
roped over planes of spacial awareness
Knots untie and rip the lines
displayed as appropriately framed
right angled protruding grades
constrained in lower dimensions
where this contour hangs
diluting grey
Foraging through the void of depth,
time crept into layered realms where
strings untangle every second
stretching into decades after
Hours draped like stalactites dangled
dripping from the ceiling yet,
their patterns never settle,
dragging faster across the celing rafters
Plaster breaks revealing
all their metal structures
resting underneath
Shapes solidify in space and
trace their source's essence back
across dissolving acetyl mazes
growing larger among the shade
Only light dissipates beneath the
growing twilight haze
Vaporizing acid rains
storm and drain before the flowers
drink their poison showers or their
dew drops melt the grassy plains
Every cornerstone is held in place and
tied to the dimension beneath, repeating
patterns search for meaning, wich
several different needles stitch
each thread into a lace
Here we are observing, learning,
breeding, and obsessively searching
for purposeful meaning
while we maintain these vibrant shapes
which often trace the jagged lines
crisscrossing the void of space
Eventually these strings will rupture,
torn by the very structure
created when dimensions
touch their tapered ends together
Stars are punctured pin ******
testing spacetime elasticity
before stretching it back straight
Life has been assimilated
by the crystalline structures
which have woven its own tapestry
blissfully in place
Jul 14, 2021
Jul 14, 2021 at 9:51 AM UTC
Meaning eludes midnight's lament,
as constellations leave their welt
lined up in the star scattered skyline
Gravity shackles with iron grip
aligning chains to Orion's belt
now resting in a milky row confined
Galaxies are made from ripped sheets,
pieces of torn cloth, and felt
sewn together with Poseidon's trident
then dealt across an oceanside
wading the obsidian tide
pelting midnight's shoreline
He spoke expanding entropy
with a voice rasped in depraved sickness,
washing his hands guiltlessly
before lifting this jet black awning
over top the veil of existence
These feet drag on
dancing in lonesome's brigade,
music grows like Kentucky crabgrass
bursting cement to meet the rain,
breaking free through a concrete slab
growing out its swagger and mane
A siren's lure has kept me skured
on the end of a driftwood dagger,
bleeding I stand profoundly for
desire is latched to my stature like
the feathers on a bird
Hills of fire beg for rain,
why must the clouds forsake them
by roaming among plains
filled with mire and several tethered chains
strapped between two mountain ranges
like a meadowlark inside a cage
By light of the moon foreboding gloom,
shredded cotton rushes through with
lightning strikes inosculated
stretching from rows of falling rain,
blotting out the sunlight with a
monochrome shadow, and
washing out every storm drain
yet not a single flower blooms
Nothing green will ever soothe
such an arid desolate city
where not even a storm cloud will stay
I wonder how they escape
Oh, I wonder where these storm clouds
drift so swiftly swaying
while thunder hounds
on leashes yelp
howling and strictly baying
So grey and still the cyclones pose,
farther and faster away,
not guaranteed to blow this way
or find their twilight
desert rose
Jul 12, 2021
Jul 12, 2021 at 7:10 AM UTC
Legislators of social stigmatization
hand out identity before child birth,
reluctantly judged by your pigmentation,
you're given a name
and a pew in a church,
assigned to a gender with implications,
while ATM balance determines your worth
Bugs will certainly inherit the Earth
Disguised as your neighborhood
privacy invaders,
cops kick in the door
at your mother's front porch,
enforcing law written by legislators
for a routine seizure and search
Police brutality couldn't mask the depravity
of their warrants nomenclature
Capitalist crusaders terrorize Americans,
but can't keep the bugs
from their Earth inheritance
Men will shroud their evil nature
Malicious intent hides below the glacier
Camouflaged vindictive behavior
is electing dictators across the equator
Truth serenaders lobby for
congressional persuaders
to pardon these murderous
capitalist crusaders,
fitting agendas with tailor made suits,
who infect Mother Earth deep in her roots
Antibiotics couldn't heal or stop this
infection these players gave her
Pray for fire and fury
to burn away worry
when bugs surely crawl from the dirt
to inherit what's left of our Mother Earth
May 8, 2020
May 8, 2020 at 6:30 AM UTC
Brokenhearted and distraught
your eyes like rifles
loaded and cocked
enraged and disgusted
with their whites blood shot
You aim your gaze
when the lever engaged
and depart from the room
like the white waters rush
All your rage hung around the house
it lingers like soot clung
to a burnt out fire pit
Soon I'll be begging for
your return if
not by midnight when the candle burns out
You're back-and-forth always pacing
scattered like the wind blown rain,
but your image is quickly beginning to fade
with storm shadows racing
across moonlit drapes
sliding as darkness frayed from the shade
Nightmares adjust to the crest of day
plunging over the steepening cusp
of a burnt orange skyline slipping
from the horizon into tomorrow's dusk
Air inhaled as oxygen
has failed your breath now poisonous
The iron in your blood
corrodes metallic
flaking fragments settled in rust
Smoke lingers on the wall
clinging like a frameless picture
cockeyed and covered in dust,
with loosened staples brushed to the floor,
blackened as pieces briskly
burn into a crust
Sunlight reaches through a slit in the curtain
reflecting off of floating debris
spotlit against this grey smokescreen
Fire bellows between
load bearing walls,
bathing in kerosene cider and bourbon
Stay engaged despite an
eyeful of rage
staring down the barrel of a rifle's gaze,
assuredly fueling this fire to the
brightest and bluest of flames
May 8, 2020
May 8, 2020 at 6:02 AM UTC