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Neon Robinson Mar 2017
All good things will meet their end.
Even the ocean waves
Returning roar to the shore
Can not prevail past the break
At your soul's cliff edge.
Your love is like skydiving,
   an unnerving thought,
breathless & intoxicating
  elevations beyond exhilarating,
  as it transforms life's panorama
    nothing seemed ever the same,
         after the thrill of the fall
Neon Robinson Dec 2016
I'm into psychedelics and long night of, elapsed time
spent reading poetry, written by obscure personas
attempting to find solidarity
the cosmoroma of life makes me spin
-- is it really 4 a.m again
maybe the third dose of emotions
Are causing my unnatural adderall implosions.

Iv done this before and ill do it again  
Stay up all night and indulge
The war in my mind between who i am and want to be.
Ambitious zeal
A thirst for passions
artistic creation
A fear of not being what i want  
decomposition on the Hawaiian Island
Lose of whits somewhere past the horizon.
island fever
Neon Robinson Dec 2016
The first space station, is still drifting,
—A momentary bli[m]p— ballooning in the sky.
Decaying a quarter million miles away.
Abandoned, by a mass grave of contemporary considerations.

Decompartmentalised planetarised
Offtheearth language
Mangled by sayable’s forlorn hopes
Overthinking imaginary realities
A penchant for secrecy eclipsed by lunar lunacy  
Manifestations of new property in the dark galaxy
However empty it may seem.

Reaching out to its inevitable end,
But instead finding
A hysterical edge of humanity.
-- Rightly or falsely --
Listen for understanding and you can still hear

Modern mans mind in search of its own meaning.
Neon Robinson Dec 2016
Delicacies of darkness,
Intricacies of energy;
Witches of woe
Insinuating that nothing we pass is past,
As all beginnings were long since begun.

Protecting an abnormality,
That would rather be condemned,
By self-centered ambition of men.
An insanity that turns her right, round again.

Now if now only.
Living by wick and glee of natural ability.
You would come and dare,
Old sentimentality and whimsicality,
Rampart of myths and misconceptions.

To indulge in mischievous play
Under the indigo sky,
By the light of a spiral of far fire.
The journey starts by stealing hearts
If only now you would come I should be happy.
Mused by Lia Ann Kaai
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