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
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
And setting my dying-for-love lips on your full-of-love lips.
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.
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!
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