where the conformity sees a

(blank page)

we see scarlet letters and ink
of hues unimaginable . those
who don't know what it's like
to fight origami dragons, thin
as wafts of ***** smoke, the
wings of which having the po-
wer to knock their worlds to
the next millennium and the
flaming jaws to crush chrod-
mum skulls to powder . those
stars of their scales tell tales .
of woe . the beat of their heat
like a tribal drum from Hades
but all the conformity sees is

(blank page)

we see billions of suns already
extinguished . wraiths of cloud
wrapping around the tip of our
pen . we see . android humans
and human ai's cannot . we are
given a unique ability as poets
we make something blank into
beauty . ugliness . banality into
exquisite expression . cheers!!!


SoulSurvivor
(C) 1/2/2016