Where I come from only a ferry stands between me and paradise.
And paradise is separated by oceans of water too fast to swim across.
Water too deep to thread and the air, fresher and I am accustomed to.
There are more corbeaus than humming birds where I come from.
The stench of decay rises from houses made from bones.
Ashes mix to paint clouds and,
Mourning ushers mornings making melancholy known to sunlight .
Sunlight however is mostly appreciated by excavators,
Happy to exhume new corpses.
Rain falls from firearms instead of the sky and tears pour from open wounds instead of tear ducts.
And night is every horror movie given existence.
And night is every nightmare given existence.
And Paradise is somewhere behind the line where the sky kisses sea.
And sunsets are swallowed whole.
Deneka Thomas 2015
Apr 2, 2015
Apr 2, 2015 at 2:26 PM UTC
Glass hearts can only break after falling...
And they know that, but they fall anyway,
Counting the time between gravity and the earth so that they could make every second of their wholeness count.
They've lived lifetimes in that space,
Not succumbing to the laws of physics because science didn't teach you how to love when all hope was lost.
It was instinct.
It was soul.
It was whatever existed beyond shape..
Beyond form,
Beyond glass shells that could undoubtedly be put back together.
Changing shape forever.
Missing pieces forever.
Imperfect forever and ever.
Apr 1, 2015
Apr 1, 2015 at 10:25 PM UTC
Dancing rainbows heckle the sun.
Jealous that everything orbits the star.
Grateful that the Sól of the universe contributes to their existence but they curse in silence...
Appearing unannounced and bringing smiles on rainy days by ironically displaying multicoloured frowns.
Holding grudges over sunsets.
Plotting against sunrise,
Conspiring with the night.
Unsatisfied with it's mere moments of glory.
Still whispering silent thank you's
Bipolar rainbows.
Apr 1, 2015
Apr 1, 2015 at 10:29 AM UTC
First it was a tornado,
Then it became a lion,
And one day it'll become a memory,
Floating...
Somewhere...
Burning paper tips at the end of clouds like ember,
And sunsets dipping below horizons,
To conclude that life...
Moves on...
Isn't it beautiful though?
Ripples like an angel's vibrato across waves.
Singing in harmony with perfection.
Silhouettes and dancing shadows,
Stretching beyond vision,
Disappearing under currents,
And making itself known in another hemisphere.
Peaking and rising and sharing its beauty with someone else.
While its absence is mourned.
Until it returns in the morning again.
Bring new hope.
Oct 14, 2014
Oct 14, 2014 at 10:10 PM UTC
A thousand love poems yoking to pages you will never read.
Though some have slipped from my reach,
Seeking refuge from the muse, responsible for their existence.
L is for lion.
And is what you are.
Oct 14, 2014
Oct 14, 2014 at 12:54 AM UTC
Nuclear bombs still explode in my chest.
Miniature mushroom clouds rise from my insides,
Because heart palpitations,
Isn't enough to explain the way I feel about you.
Eagles still flutter in my stomach.
Their wings still cut me from the insides,
Because tiny little butterflies,
Doesn't even begin to explain how nervous you make me.
Roses crawl up from my mouth.
Thorns, wrap around my tongue,
Because being at a lost of words...
Is only half of the story..
My legs are amputated with diamond blades.
I have had enough phantom limbs to last a lifetime.
Because getting, weak in the knees for you
Is a terrible understatement.
This is emotional genocide
And you are on the winning side.
Sep 21, 2014
Sep 21, 2014 at 11:00 AM UTC
My soul is in surgery.
Tattered pieces are currently being sewn together.
Needles, of diamonds.
Stitched, with Ivory.
Repainted. With shades of ichor.
None but the gods have the power to save what little of it remains.
Their hands, claw deep into my being and it pains,
Once they are through,
It will be as good as new.
My soul needs beautifying.
Lavished with Koi ponds,
To replace the craters.
Polished with Orchids,
To replace the dead roses.
I somehow trust that someday
It will regain its glory.
And that the world will see it smile again.
It no longer wants to be in ruins.
Sep 15, 2014
Sep 15, 2014 at 1:09 AM UTC
This is the highway of fallen kings.
The place where pharaohs go to rest.
The dungeon where crowns are thrown,
Because they no longer have value.
They mean nothing.
Everything you touch becomes nothing and,
Even the strongest fall under your scrutiny.
This is the wasteland of dreams.
The place where hopes go to rest.
For nothing conquers your unconquered heart.
Nothing will florish under your glory.
Every territory is under your dominance.
playing with my heart
toying with my mind and
Evidently pulling hard,
Ripping at my heart strings
I guess the mighty *****
Isn't so mighty.
This is the epiphany of heartbreak.
The sudden realization that...
Pharaohs will fall.
Crowns will also fall.
Dreams are sometimes nightmares.
One can only hope.
Superiors remain supreme.
And of course...
The weak is forever at your disposal..
Sep 15, 2014
Sep 15, 2014 at 12:09 AM UTC
Heaven knows of the wishes you make in the dark.
In fact, the light is a bit jealous.
Glimpses of tiny paradoxes,
Peaking through pin like openings.
Ones the naked eye may mistake for mirages.
The darkness is so vast,
it is almost as if you are visually impaired and...
Better days unimaginable.
Every twinge or hope promises solar flares,
But instead, it presents sparks,
Quickly extinguished by,
Ominous woes and epic eruptions in the balance.
It is absence,
Humming,
Surfing on the air,
So you only manage to overhear scraps of,
The only means of your redemption
But cannot actually grab onto to it.
How are you making it through the day,
When you hate every bit of it?
Shadows laugh at your despair but I beg you,
Stop feeding the darkness because it will only grow thicker.
Heaven knows the wishes you make in the dark,
But it begs you to stop searching..
Stop searching for the light.
You will never find it in front of you.
Because it is inside of you.
But you are too preoccupied in your own misfortunes
To see just how equipped you are to handle the silence.
Because you have refused to listen to anything but sorrow.
Too blind to see that your own heart,
Radiates like a lantern.
To worried to see that you don't need fire,
You are the flame.
Darkness is carved like caverns to make you lose your mind.
Don't rob yourself the opportunity to be freed of night.
Force yourself to see beauty and Beauty will cling to you,
Overshadowing all else,
And light will illuminate.
no matter what you do.....
Know that,
Sunrise is only a breath away.
Breathe will you?
Let it fill every nook,
Let it occupy every space of every cranny..
Let enlighten you..
Let it lift you up.
Let it set you free.
Let it keep you calm.
Let it motivate you to smile.
Smile your troubles away,
..... Will you?
Because it will be the most beautiful ...
You are beautiful.
Sep 14, 2014
Sep 14, 2014 at 2:56 PM UTC
How much time do we have left
Until we take our final breath
Why isn't it enough to know
Our time is finite
To protect the flame of love
Instead of fanning the fires of hate
To work for human needs
Instead of needless greed
Trading hands full of sand
For a fist full of dollars
But our pay is already spent
Before we even touch a cent
We can taste the foul stench
as we inhale
Of a wick burning out our last
bit of air
Sep 14, 2014
Sep 14, 2014 at 2:54 PM UTC