bed of colors,
carpet of scents
dancer of summers
majestic ambiance
love in a mist
moon orchids,
sun kissed
pansies laced with orange
graceful, and elegant
on gossamer wings
swirling with passion and eloquence
a welcome of spring
a flourish of blossoms
floating to every posy
vising all gardens
ring around the rosy
dancing on the wind
joyful flight
magnificent winged
expertise despite
began with crawling, living in a cocoon
to be reborn with freedom
until the harvest moon
never defeated
so bright with trickery
a unique design on all
such a mystery
twirling and fluttering until evenfall
some say an omen of good luck, some bad
others believe you are visiting spirits of our lost
touching upon lily pads
until the frost
though in truth you just like the taste
of our skin, the salt on your tongue
compared to the sweetness of nectar, never disgraced
for those so young
bringing birth to new flowers
two spirits dancing in the wind
flying over and under, a shower
of sparkling dust, ever twined
following where one leads
to an everlasting paradise
a show to behold
this twinkling in the sun's sky

to be frail
is a beautiful thing
I think.

with those thin wrists
writ from sheets of unlined paper
and wrought with simple weak.

with those delicate bones
daring to disintegrate
with the lightest brush touch. 

with those supple eyes
wide but suffused of colour
used of black and grey. 

with those delicate movements
from those who do not divide
and the dance with pinned wrists from those who add.

with those lacy eyed lashes
that listen and lapse the lone deserved 
lost in a world of felt and move.

In the untimely event of my demise
Someone please pluck out my useless eyes.
Because when death comes to take its' tole,
I wish not to see that empty hole.

Dark and dingy musty earth,
rot and rancid smells at birth,
doth contend to trust not worth.
Bring forth out of filth and mire to purge mine nose of its' desire

Hear mine ears the worms that squirm,
below that massive earthen berm.
Cast out the sounds of pleading death,
take no more from lungs, my one last breath.

Feel the roots clawing through skin,
take not heed of where the've been.
Covered dirt to marrowed bones,
death waits for the to fill its' catacombs.

Taste of the thy wretched dung,
flick out of the thy evil tongue.
Speak not for grace in such a place,
where time has rendered the thy final resting place.

I don’t wish to be strong.
Falling, wind gust knock me over
nothing more honorable
humble
than that of grass
bending, adapting
enduring season after season
never-ceasing browns, yellows, brilliant greens
stones lie upon it
but,
weaving the way
through solid center,
breaking it so
using thoughts of water,
thought.
Never lost,
reaching for sun, for life.
How can something
so lowly,
so plain,
so overlooked,
be something
so beautiful?

It seems to me
everything is strong.
My arms, branches, branching,
reaching for that same sun.
Please.
Please,
just don’t let me be stone.

Dance in dark
Delight in days
Revel in reality slipping slowly to the gray.
Inky black comfort dripping into haze.

Distraught in denile
Damaged in disdain
Rememberd reason trembeling in shadows to the grave.
Nervous the edge of sanity sinking slowly below the brave.

Cringe in quiet
Crumble in cacophony
Bask in benign indifference to the coming of the fray.
Shape the broken mold into which is squezed the clay.

Form in function
Friction in fruition
Extrapolate from nothing what is real of what is fake.
Drive doom through the heart wooden to the stake.

Damaged and distroyed, disturbed and distrought, this is the friction of the fraught.