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1.1k · Jan 2014
Windowpane Sights
Landon Green Jan 2014
Wild orange green trees
     Blowin' in the chilly wind
There must be something to me
     That does sit and bend
A bell that does not ring
     During a infrequent quiet bliss
A dog that does not chew
     At the bones of harmony’s miss

Loud white green mockingbird
     Singing in misguided hymns
It’s a big sad shame to me
     That love don’t bend heavy at the limb
No apple blossoming
     During that good old summer dream
No façade I can find
     Bustin’ open at the seams

Unyielding angry closed friend
     Yelling in the rain
Sorrow seems to accompany me
     When I am all alone
No person to keep a garden
     In the deep scarlet sun
No deep unhappy person
     Has a medal that company’s won
753 · Jan 2014
Solitude of Nighttime
Landon Green Jan 2014
Grapes grown on a crooked line
Make amongst, the most sour wine

Flowers of the dying kind
spoil and rot the bright sunshine

Butterflies in the pouring rain
Fall and die in roaring pain

Views change across eyes
Sorrow keeps the oil lit
Silent sounds are comfort
in the solitude of nighttime
358 · Feb 2014
Territory Moving
Landon Green Feb 2014
To property with a high degree
That puts to shame anyone with soft soothing tea
Moving along past inscribed miseries
     On peoples faces
     Oh, further fast, going places
Board that silk laced train without hesitation
Gather white flowers, take no intimidations
For the poet writes only about rays of mitigation
     That breaks open the shaded
     Which is ignored and faded
For the true painter paints, only what they care to see
Not what others are faced to be
Once they decide their messages for he and she
     Each tree they will chop with a fake type of force
     For the poet now has stolen their horse
On which they rode to the promise land
With the dead, the unborn, & the hand
Of what is what & who tears the bands
     Apart for they don't speak
     Only listen, repeat, and creak
Soft now please, go to the beach with the swirling keeps
Perhaps there will lay the sleeping sheep
That you wish not to be, for they are meek in heaps
     And do not know every meaning
     Behind every tower leaning
Learn something there, then return
For not your destiny everyone yearns
Rather it is peace and a chance to learn
     About a prophecy new
     And culture few
Or perhaps that is a lie
Like every tear shed through an eye
That hopes to gain something through a tight tie
294 · Jan 2014
~~~
Landon Green Jan 2014
~~~
Death starts religion
     and marries them
          in red velvet ribbon

— The End —