This


Fragile


Shell


Has


Cracked.


Our world, that lies
On the turtle's back;

Roots planted,
By the Sky Mother's hands.

The moon hoarsely laughs,
Through its throat ****
As the fish swim,
In chaotic patterns;
Mocking the circumstance.

While the west wind
Swiftly sniffs,
Blood rains down
The daughter's left armpit.
Her corpse kisses dirt,
We smoke her heart that grows;
Asking questions to the sky,
In our heavy clouds of smoke.

On my right hand
Lies stains of grace,
Rolling hills,
Blossomed buds,
Serene still lakes.
The flesh of creation,
Fingers that have mastered life,
And flipping the coin to the side
Where death will suffice.

My left hand represents
All that is ugly,
Lying through the grime of death,
Hiding in the darkness,
Concealing its grotesque appearance;

Crooked fingers and choices
Digging nails in search of healing,
Some form of sorcery.

We wash our hands
In love
And aggression.
Pushing and pulling knuckles
In cooperation and competition,
Are we not mirrored,
Ourselves just reflections?

Who is glass

And

Who is skin?

We shatter each other
For a deeper look within.

One and the same,
In opposite of ways.
Blending into grey,
Necessary to remain.

This fragile shell has cracked,
The world on the turtle's back
These empty hands must find
Palms to grasp, to keep the balance
In life's weighty strands.

-SLuR

A beautiful rose grows on a grave
It is cared for by the caring
Watered by heaven
Raised by the sun
Given rest by the Autumn
Reborn by the spring
Under in the rich earth
The life that is just sleeping
Just waiting
Offers life into its roots

My words hold no importance,
Glance at them and forget.
Ignored by those I worship,
Rejection's written on my skin-
A pale, fragile page.
I am a book, a worm-
A maggot birthed by flies of hate,
Trying to wriggle myself within
Your putrid, rotten flesh
But, you deny me entrance;
The world's so bitter and old,
I'm so alone, lying in dust
All contorted and curled.

No body wants to be my home,
Nobody hears my sadness call.
Hello? Are you there?
Please, pick up the phone.
I am just a parasite, without a host.
Something lost, that belongs to no one.

Ignored and alone,
Ignored and alone.
The warmth of the sun feels so cold.

-SLuR

Dying animals trapped in barbed wire
Man-made men all flailing to conspire
To cross the sea of destiny for hope
to design their own form of misanthrope

Building fences of ignorance and tears
for the respect of their own group of peers
Creating borders to destroy their own wealth
to hasten the decline of their own health

Living animals limitless and free
with untold abundance and scarcity
Roaming the planet to frolic and breed
to the farthest reaches spreading their seed

Happy with total harmony and peace
with no concept of coverings or fleece
Communicating only by their senses
unless of course they start building fences