Genius, someone once
Told me, is where
You do something
Significant
(Although I know
he meant fame worthy)
To influence our -
- out of
Balanced world of overrun
Thesis. A lateral sweepstake
Ignoramus' not getting
To the point
Of pricelessness
And all sorts of
Languages that
Come and slap each other
On the back.

I don't want to fall like the leaves in autumn.
or like the snow in winter,
or rain when god is crying down to what a disappointment I am.
I want to shine like the sun, I want them to notice my sparkly lip gloss and admire me, like Athena.
I want to guide everyone through the night with my moonlight.
but I fail to their eyes because they dont see a success,
they see the opposite, they see ugliness. well now I know to never try again.

our nights we are plunged in spangled black
-no street lamps here to dim the stars

you have to be careful
beware getting lost out there

bewitched, spellbound
a great wanting to be consumed.

the abundance of possibilities
is making my stomach upset.
i feel like i forgot something,
i feel like i'm always catching up.
the ceiling is getting closer,
i think i'm about to throw up.
everyone's asking who i am
while i dream of a factory reset.

the sun's bleeding into the horizon,
the sun's taking its time to settle and set.
the infinite number of possibilities
is making my stomach upset.

i am sober many years, coffee and poetry

is there any art requests? i speak irish,  raised that way

see how thats missing from america?  everyone is unable to know how to fix the homeless homekey crisis

justice being blind and poverty being beyond a shoe being shared

and italian girl and an irish boy get along
her family, law enforcement and former mafia convictions

we live away from the persecuted homeless who subside without progressive drug policy, thats a violation of civil rights
those are bodies being assaulted

martin luther king jr got shot for doing what we are

somewhere i belong is defining civil rights violations with irish poetry.

hopefully your wells are an act of kindess a day to, thats basic police work without a badge in a civilized european town.

like a watercolor in a wooden
frame standing in the rain. Reds
bled with the blues to create
a purple hue. She wore it as

a brass weathervane high
in a cornflower sky blowing in
the wind, spinning in every direction
till the **** broke off

like a piece of poptart. She
wore it like a river running into
the valley. There was erosion from
all her emotion. She slapped

it on like thunder clouds
clapping out loud. Lightning
striking down a cherry tree. Swimming
in shards of jubilee.

All seasons have come to an end.  
The shining eyes,  
The smiling face,  
The yearning heart looked even happier as the seasons passed.  

Why was this magic fluttering its unique tune all around?  

Was it a blessing that sought to embrace you, sweetening the corners of the heart?  

My sad look, without wanting your gaze in return.  
But your look made me feel as if I had regained tremendous faith in you and in myself.  

That sad look, my sad look, is now an understanding look for me.  
Yes, the seasons have passed, and so have the reasons.  
A smiling face,  
A yearning heart looks even happier.  
©shivpoetesspriya

Whenever you come to me in white,  
Your grandeur walks away with my heart.  

It takes my heart away and carries it with you.  

Whenever you come to me,  
Notice me; you are in white, while I happily watch you in adorable yellow light.  

Your white and grand light,  
Do look into my heart,
A heart that has left the possession of rosiness  
To feel the mighty volume of its light within itself.  

Do look at me in my heart,  
And for the sake of this peace,  
Do dip your hands in its grandeur yellow light.  

Whenever you come to me,  
In white along with your grandeur walk.  

I will be at the corner praying for you  
With my yellow heart.  
©shivpoetesspriya