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Ander Stone Jan 4
I dream of you
when I close my eyes
and run through the golden fields
naked of all fear
and covered in the sunlight
of whom I hold most dear
taking in the yield
of passion's highs
as I rush to you.

I dream of you
when I open my eyes
and walk through the grey streets
veiled in mundane dismay
and covered in the soot
of machination gone astray
from the golden wheat
of desire's lies
as I stride to you.

I dream of you
endlessly.

And I dream
that you dream
of me
even fleetingly.
Ander Stone Jan 1
how is it that my sins
are heavier than thine?
and
how is it that the finest wine
is always served with yours?

how is it that my work
does not withstand the test of time,
yet
all your treasures come from crime,
with mischief and a smirk?

how is it that you've built
your monuments on stolen ground?
yet
I can't own even my burial mound?
how is it that you feel no guilt?

how is it that you've shed no blood,
yet claim triumph all year round?
and
how is it that your brow never found
a single drop of sweat in the mud?

how is it that you stand so proud?
Ander Stone Dec 2024
Tell me
Screaming from the rooftops
And I'll swim to shore,
Out of the salt desert of swirling waves,
For to drown in your arms
Is better than anything.

Tell me,
Saying it with your eyes
More than with lips or teeth,
That breathing would never
Be as sweet as kissing you
Until my lungs fill up with laughter.

Tell me,
Whispering among the pines
And I'll brave the wildfires,
Blind and breathless in the choking dark,
For to burn in your desire
Is better than anything.

Tell me,
Voicing it with your every heartbeat
More than with tongue and cheek,
That breathing would never
Be as vital as kissing you
Until my lungs fill up with joy.

Tell me,
Shouting from the shoreline
And I'll climb every mountain,
Up into the ice desert of gleaming stars,
For to hold in every breath shared with you
Will keep time still for awhile.
Ander Stone Sep 2024
there is a small fire,
a flickering light,
akin to a firefly lost
in the cold mists of night,
shining bright where
my joy should be.

there is a deep well,
a profound darkness,
akin to a cavern flooded
with frigid dark waves
echoing eternally
to the sound of loneliness.

there is a lackluster wreckage,
a broken trireme,
akin to a kingly one
that sailed out of Ithaca,
bleeding memories through
a gashing wound.

there is a rhyme,
a shattered syllable,
akin to a muffled shout
that reverberated throughout
those splintered blinks
of a forlorn childhood...
Ander Stone Jul 2024
motherless.

to be sheltered in loving arms,
to be held in sunlight above the crowd
so they may see you bask
in radiance.
to be nurtured.
Would I ever know what it feels like?

fatherless.

to be sheltered in a brave heart,
to be held in moonlight above the crowd
so they may never hurt you
in darkness.
to be protected.
Would I ever know what it feels like?

loverless.

to be sheltered in adoring eyes,
to be held in starlight above the crowd
so you may know truest love
in purity.
to be enamored.
Would I ever know what it feels like?

childless.

to be the shelter.
to hold above the crowd.
to be kissed by a rose on the grave.
to be missed.
Would I ever know what it feels like?
Ander Stone Jul 2024
Scorching,
her lingering gaze.

If only I could bathe
in her greying clouds,
in that black vortex
hidden in the storm
of her restless soul.

Torrid,
her warm embrace.

If only I could swim
in her pale downpour,
in that chilling curtain
hiding the world
in her summer storm.

Sweltering,
her mouth caressing.

If only I could drown
in her torrential descent,
in that ephemeral beauty
hiding nothing
of her thunderous lust.

Parching,
her heaving breathing.

If only I could sink
deeper into her,
into that fathom
hiding so much
of her carnal delights.

Searing,
her thrumming hips.

If only I could float
atop her wanton storm,
into the crackling light
revealing the droplets
on her undaunted curves.

Hot,
her body on mine.
Ander Stone Jun 2024
To try to sing when all your rhythms are loneliness and decaying forests.

To try to speak when all your words are fragility and pungent mires.

To try to write when all your rhymes are complacency and murky waters.

To try to get those thoughts out when all your mind can shelter are words without rhyme or rhythm...

To try...
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