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 Feb 2015 Kevin Eli
I will seek
in darkness, and in light
to find every buried treasure
that glistens bright.
hidden /waiting...
to be found
like all the gold that's glistening
within the ground
intuition picks up on every sound
our spirits
really have no bounds.
I know inside
what is true
I see shimmering gold
reflected in the eyes of me, and you.
I will search far, and wide...
for all the answers that may reside
buried deep like fortune
inside my soul
for me to hold
I will share
my buried treasure
to all I meet
I will carry this treasure
to their feet.
© Krisselle S. Cosgrove
I have traveled far
On this journey we call life
And I assure you
The true road to happiness
Begins within your own heart
just to
let you
you are
to resist

only you
your eyes
in my
i still love you
i'm still having those crazy dreamz of you and me
it’s morning light
not a time for a ****** fight
he prefers waiting for the night
it’s morning light
he is so quiet
he’s not fighting even for his right
ooh he’s a serial killer watch out for your life he doesn’t have pity killing just make him feel better
it’s not morning light anymore
he isn’t quiet like before
he took his weapon and passed by my door
oh dear god i ‘ve just seen a dead body on the floor
i guess it is not safe anymore
he is right behind my door
ooh he’s a serial killer watch out for your life he doesn’t have pity killing just make him feel better
he is coming armed with his shotgun
he’s coming to have some fun
the serial killer is a creature of night so don’t expect to see him in the morning light
 Jan 2015 Kevin Eli
 Jan 2015 Kevin Eli
I feel like a photograph.
One taken of myself
while I was moving too quickly.
The shutter didn't capture me
with defined crisp outline.
A blur of me chases my every move.
A clinging specter.
A lingering sensory experience.
A light trail, as I head towards the dark;
as I leave you behind.
In gravest, gravels of untouched soil,
Spearhead of purple, beyond the pale,
One statue of siege upon a windy foil,
What mires meek airs in all you survey?    

Like a frost of summers, you are lord,
To hold that seed in your spiny face,
Depressions of land your promontory,
All up with arms, iron clad as a mace,

Beneath you, the grown motley fields
Are desolate, all flowers bled, blender,
Spiders and birds know you unyielding
The lost aleatory scent of no surrender.
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