Under the full moon after a twilight evening I light this flammable paper I rolled as I hark back to our faded moment in the back of the cab that night...
I lay shirtless on your marshmallow soft like thighs while you caressed my back with a rather fade a way shy but intentional touch which sent sensual chills down my spine
We were both drunk, me more than you trying to decipher if these were just my chimera postulation episodes or a series of real time occurrences? Whatever the reality, it didn't matter as long as you were here with me in this moment, I was at a tranquil state in time and finally.. I understood what it meant to hypothetically float in space..
But as the moon faded into the morning sun and the cigarette burned to the filter tip I couldn't help wonder if nights like this could last longer or when will we re-live these drunk jiffs as sober moments?
Oct 19, 2022
Oct 19, 2022 at 3:04 PM UTC
I wasn't on earth, not anymore
I wend one's way to a tranquil ambience whilst transcending my divine self
to a higher Cosmic Celestial being
at the time of eternal halcyon...
the Lacuna,that's what they called it in this time (Space was highly praised)
Suddenly life was unending
I guess that's why they use
light years here
it's counter intuitive
A cosmic pilgrim,
in a buoyantly state..
I peregrinated my way to the place in space
I seeked to fill my existence or of it to fill its existence the aftermath resulted twins
My burning hanker being doused with every feeling of passing an atom, I began to feel more drawned to my destination
From a distance, a visual perception of my terminus appeared before me
Jupiter
The third realm to the
East of my origin with
the four daemons seated in
an aligned parallel order manifesting themselves before my eyes..
Ganymede the colossal daemon
The ancient of them all
Callisto the Cherry blossom
the most alluring, artistic and gratifying in sight of all daemons.
Io the Sun's sister
The last daemon, Europa
the soft Pearl
The sight juxtaposed one's eyes for God's
I never felt so alive before
this was the cream of the crop
of the peacefull atmosphere in space..
sending an aesthetic tsunami tide to my soul's core
I belonged
Dec 10, 2019
Dec 10, 2019 at 7:21 PM UTC
I stand here;
outside my balcony
amidst darkness
in the company
of loneliness
My soul impertaburbly
trapped between forlornness
and peacefulness
Yin and Yang perhaps,
Forlorn because the soul,
wounded and damaged perniciously by loneliness..
And peace;
because the herb...
well the herb heals
to some extent
My vessel the arena
On a forbidden course
Yang battles Yin
the odds are in his favor
THC to Yin is like aconite to wolves;
And so he weakens with every hit
The melee ends
like it was destined to
tranquil and pure bliss prevail
At that moment;
the wind starts to sing her song
Calling, whistling to his lover
the king of the night
she whistles a beautiful song
that sounds of a gentle breeze
zephyr like pushing aside clouds that
guard his majesty;
grandiosely his image is revealed
in the nightlife
Observe they all gather under the nightsky;
selenophiles
far away from each other
all in different worlds
but it's this energy that coheres them here
together
The wind starts to sing
the song of halcyon,
ogling at the moon
in veneration and exhilaration
selenophiles danced away into the night.
Jun 28, 2019
Jun 28, 2019 at 7:39 AM UTC
Art is a hell of a *******
drug, I tell you
it surreptitiously creeps
into you in a way that is
utterly indecipherable,
and lures you deep;
deep into it as the void above...
For the eye loves
what it sees,
and what's been seen
by the eye
is rather fascinating to the soul,
Amidst all these
Overwhelming emotions,
a harmonic converge
between the eye and the soul
is created,
Fostering a sui generis ecstatic rhapsody!
Jan 8, 2019
Jan 8, 2019 at 10:31 AM UTC
The poet
is the artiste,
who uses acrylic
in the form of words,
the pen
is his mahl stick,
to write is to paint,
the reader's mind
is his canvas,
where the magnificence
of his works is manifested
Nov 17, 2018
Nov 17, 2018 at 2:42 AM UTC
two swazi gold joints
a cup of abyssinia coffee
a pen
my journal
Nov 10, 2018
Nov 10, 2018 at 4:14 AM UTC
She was seated there
Alone
Alone in darkness
Her amorphous shadow displaced
On the cold floor
By the light from the dying moon
The silence was too loud
And so were her thoughts
Depressing suicidal thoughts
Her soul banished
In an abyss of grotesque
Psychological torture
From a distance
A coruscate of hope
An opportunity to escape
Her anathematized reality
All of this because of him
The man of his dreams
The one she knew
Was absolute for her
The only one who wouldn't relinquish her
Like everyone did
Death!
Surreptitiously he
Approached her
And she whispered
"Take me with you"
But even he had a type
And she wasn't his
And just as she was before
She remained to be
A piece of **** in a ****** society!
Oct 21, 2018
Oct 21, 2018 at 3:10 AM UTC
I'll probably be getting drunk on some alaskan thunderfuck or smoking some courvoisier yeah my world is discrete from yours.
Oct 16, 2018
Oct 16, 2018 at 2:38 AM UTC
I drift off to be found by my new reality, an amorphous existence where winds carry a challenging honesty,
the incarnation of rhythm itself
Amidst the breeze, I meditate
swaying in the rhythm,
my limbs become like quicksand,
a physical contemplation
of the depth of character
A quicksand entity,
I am the being who abides
the infidel to patiently infect,
and engulf,
A suffocation mentality
Oct 14, 2018
Oct 14, 2018 at 2:11 AM UTC