Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
14.7k · Oct 2018
Blessed Garden,
in my backyard
with alluring flowers
wild flowers, purple haze
green, with a shade of russet

Nature at it's very best,
the visual perception,
of my garden
to the mind and soul
a great aesthetic rapture!

This is my pagoda
I come here to meditate,
in the spectre
of beautiful  aura
and to be at peace with nature,

Amidst my temple
a spliff I shall spark
with a profound  purpose,
to bless my mind
and to bless my soul
with sagacity,
from the universe!
7.0k · Jun 2019
Dance of peace
I stand here;
outside my balcony
amidst darkness
in the company
of loneliness

My soul impertaburbly
trapped between forlornness
and peacefulness

Yin and Yang perhaps,

Forlorn because the soul,
wounded and damaged perniciously by loneliness..

And peace;
because the herb...
well the herb heals
to some extent

My vessel the arena

On a forbidden course
Yang battles Yin
the odds are in his favor
THC to Yin is like aconite to wolves;

And so he weakens with every hit

The melee ends
like it was destined to
tranquil and pure bliss prevail

At that moment;
the wind starts to sing her song

Calling, whistling to his lover
the king of the night
she whistles a beautiful song
that sounds of a gentle breeze
zephyr like pushing aside clouds that
guard his majesty;
grandiosely his image is revealed
in the nightlife

Observe they all gather under the nightsky;
far away from each other
all in different worlds
but it's this energy that coheres them here

The wind starts to sing
the song of halcyon,
ogling at the moon
in veneration and exhilaration
selenophiles danced away into the night.
She was seated there
Alone in darkness
Her amorphous shadow displaced
On the cold floor
By the light from the dying moon
The silence was too loud
And so were her thoughts
Depressing suicidal thoughts
Her soul banished
In an abyss of grotesque
Psychological torture

From a distance
A coruscate of hope
An opportunity to escape
Her anathematized reality
All of this because of him
The man of his dreams
The one she knew
Was absolute for her
The only one who wouldn't relinquish  her
Like everyone did
Surreptitiously he
Approached her
And she  whispered

"Take me with you"

But even he had a type
And she wasn't his
And just as she was before
She remained to be
A piece of **** in a ****** society!
1.4k · Jan 2019
The manifest'o'
Art is a hell of a *******
drug, I tell you
it surreptitiously creeps
into you in a way that is
utterly indecipherable,

and lures you deep;
deep into it as the void above...

For the eye loves
what it sees,
and what's been seen
by the eye
is rather fascinating to the soul,

Amidst all these
Overwhelming emotions,
a harmonic converge
between the eye and the soul
is created,

Fostering a sui generis ecstatic rhapsody!
1.2k · Oct 2018
Poetic innuendo
read between the lines
with an eagle's eye,
only then will you
unveil and decipher,
the hidden secrets of a poet
336 · Dec 2019
Cosmic Pilgrim
I wasn't on earth, not anymore
I wend one's way to a tranquil ambience whilst transcending my divine self
to a higher Cosmic Celestial being
at the time of eternal halcyon...
the Lacuna,that's what they called it in this time (Space was highly praised)

Suddenly life was unending
I guess that's why they use
light years here
it's counter intuitive

A cosmic pilgrim,
in a buoyantly state..
I peregrinated my way to the place in space
I seeked to fill my existence or of it to fill its existence the aftermath resulted twins

My burning hanker being doused with every feeling of passing an atom, I began to feel more drawned to my destination

From a distance, a visual perception of my terminus appeared before me


The third realm to the
East of my origin with
the four daemons seated in
an aligned parallel order manifesting themselves before my eyes..

Ganymede the colossal daemon
The ancient of them all

Callisto the Cherry blossom
the most alluring, artistic and gratifying in sight of all daemons.

Io the Sun's sister

The last daemon, Europa
the soft Pearl

The sight juxtaposed one's eyes for God's
I never felt so alive before
this was the cream of the crop
of the peacefull atmosphere in space..
sending an aesthetic tsunami tide to my soul's core

I belonged
Happy holidays  y'all
239 · Nov 2018
On my desk
two swazi gold joints
a cup of abyssinia coffee
a pen
my journal
Story of my life
219 · Nov 2018
poetry for poetry
The poet
is the artiste,
who uses acrylic
in the form of words,
the pen
is his mahl stick,
to write is to paint,
the reader's mind
is his canvas,
where the magnificence
of his works is manifested
In poetry lies the greatest form of art
173 · Jun 2019
She smoked herb everyday
Her neighbor ask why;

Said she was sick
Vexed by life
Aren't we all?

— The End —