(...)

there are houses made of grey dust,
but painted with all the colors and the shades.
and old people know all of science,
and all of history of moon that never fades.

at last there are children of the sun
with complicated dreams and simple eyes.
and there are students of the wind
who won't stop staring at stars and cities in the skies.

sometimes i run in fields and gardens.
those are on moon but they, too,
came from Earth.
so here is nothing else i need .
but join won't join me, dear, come ye forth.

"so bow to her when she is full
and then take off with her light"
and so did i one starry evening
one darling full moon's night.

and so i took off into the void
and winds would escort me up.
high and higher than that i went.
there was no sealing me to stop.

then there i had my soft landing,
i found myself under a glasslike dome.
i've come to the biggest moon city,
to my new and never sleeping home...

long time no see, huh, fellows)
Demy Molentor Apr 11

Silk is the tent,
woolen is the floor,
Silk dome our teen divas have painted,
Woolen dreams our little fellows have imagined.

And now we are inside,
Just how did we fit.
And our teachers, both sit in the senter.
She plays her ukulele and he watches the fire burn.

The little girls, all so fast asleep.
Pretending to be lost in the funny shadows, so calm.
The little kings, all slowly wander,
Trying to get the older ones to tell stories, curios to know.

And the middle roses, never tired.
They sit in a circle making their flower crowns.
Oh, the middle strangers, always daring.
They play card games chatting in such a low whisper.

and the teen sages, all quiet so much.
Girls hidden in books and boys searching through dreams.
The ukulele is sounding.
The fire is burning.

Oh, moon and wind, both alive.
They both outside, guarding the tent.
Dark are the trees.
Bright are the stars.

finally I made myself put something down and work on it
 Apr 8 Demy
Anonymous4070 

Sandy beaches,
frizzy hair.
Sunglasses, flip-flops
not a care.
Being whoever
I want to be.
For just a few weeks,
I'm truly me.
Friendships and laughter
by the shore.
Ending each day,
wishing for more.
But then it ends,
school comes back.
I say goodbye to me,
and put back on my mask.

I love summer camp...
Demy Molentor Apr 4

A strange ghost, he walks through springtime city streets.
A wild dancer, he listens to the music breathing between beats.
Unruly, he moves so wierd with headphones on and silent moving lips.
So funny, he spins and runs with a raincoat tied around his shaky hips.
He was a hurricane, he was emotion's fearless young manifest.
He is now calm, and to beat, his heart should do it's very best.
Now he is calm
Wondering through shiny houses and trees.
Now hurricane is calm.
And you can end it of with with all the ease.

Demy Molentor Apr 3

In that forrest children chant
They chant for the trees to wake up.
To wake up and give them shelter,
For their snowy shelter is now gond.
And so it rains.

The children smile doubtless and laugh.
They so loud for tthere is no one to obey.
For obeying is the fate of the lifeless.
And so it rains.

And yet each of the children is so lone.
As loneliness is the freedom cost.
And so it rains.

So they all search for the forest now hidden in rain.
And so it rains.

Demy Molentor Mar 30

I gonna silent fall
until the return of fall
I will sometimes wake myself
but mostly my heart'll be on a shelf.
and i can't find a single peace of my brovado.
but when in fall i finally do, ya might as well call me tornado.
and then i'll be as alive as blood is red
and yet until fall i'm as worthless as dead.

Next page
Message