i want to dream about you!
                             because I want to palpate your pink masculinity
(in a stargaze-like state)
I will take your shining sun in my shadow soul
and breathe in the algid air
                                              Alive(again)
                                               with my ebon eyes stuck on you( only you)
to fight forlorn sorrows
                                        scuppering in my saturnine soul.
No sorrow shall scupper in your sun,
your pearl-like eyes
                                            I have now completed the mystery of love
I will wed with you
                                 After battling my bedevils.
I will be always smelling
                                          roses
          And setting my dying-for-love lips on your full-of-love lips.

Maybe the first poem I'm actually proud of....

the
    moon
            is
shining, sparkling
in the dark
                 like
                       the sun's bastard sister

Another moon poem for y'all.

This is about me being a bad child, and my brother being the best

Genius siala, a modest master
of music and song, he is robed
in royal blue. Air is ample.
He needs to rest. Maybe
he will sing a song  (or two)
in a peaceful, prideful pitch.

Prideheart. His waterblue wings
start to spread again. He is off.
Watching for worms,
his baby, blueberry head
barely moves as he hunts. I cannot confess
what kind of pretty power is at work. He dives
down, and dines.

What is a bluebird's furor? I do not notice!
Such a sweet, suave soul. His soothing
songs impugn the hunter inside. His recherché
mien moves me. His ebon eyes stare at me in
awe and affection. A playful pet. Snacker of seeds.
He hovers high once more, to manoeuvre me home.

A Keatsian/classical ode on my favourite bird, the bluebird..
You can also call this an Ode to Pride.
I personally think 'Genius siala' (his Latin name) means Genius of Song, but I can be totally wrong.

a cigarette is short
like a smoker’s life.

i'm a bit redundant to publish this because it's short as f++k..... but yeah, I may be "punk" but I'm totally against smoking.

Don't smoke!

the yellow sclera of saffron gold
shined like a lemon.
bordered by a quadrillion question marks,
it sits on it’s stygian throne
alone, alone and so alone!

I kinda have an obsession with the moon, this is an ode, i guess you can also describe this as a ode to solitude as well I guess. Also, the question marks (stars) represent my uncertainty of the future due to my bipolar

love's lieu is to pall pessimism

love is a land
full of moonlit multifloras
and sunlit sex, and is saturated
with idyllic "I dos"
&throughout this land of
love, hope hastes to
the land of marriage
never to return

The opening line/title of the poem basically means love's function is to shroud us from pessimism and despair. I love Nate (my boyfriend) so much...

foxes(
     who, have
   eyes dark as
   l
   iquor
   ice

   tw
ilight)
ro
  am
the
  dar
     k
      for
        est
hun
ting for
prey, and
       their
          pass
             ion
                to
kill
    is
great
      er
  than
     putrescent politicians

Just an anti-politic poem, they are so corrupt, and sly like foxes!
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