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nat-lipstadtPoems
*As the surface clouds cleared and the sovereign sun arose My perspective was no longer fixed on what lay below Yet on what awaits before me…..the unknown. I fly, with the rocky shoreline behind me.* Maria ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ the emperor of the solar system demands obeisance but for half of our life ceding us to the super moon's sequestration, a velvet coated, cosseted, the other-half-of-a-lifetime remainder reminder of the divide no poet can supersede yet, even these planet pulling, tide churning bodies are eclipsed, their torrented powers have human shortcomings orbits prescribed, predictable, they too can only look down upon us and wonder what if and what lays beyond their lawful curves but I can look up to you watch you, human, so powerful are you! you, you, you can reset your course, irrespective of tides, gravity I can watch you rephrase your life, knowing that my eyes   cherish what ere, before in time, what will be your course selection as I write, I wonder if my thoughts sufficiently clarified, do they require editing? no matter, the way they fall is how they'll be served I live with the same orbs, and the winds that lifted your wings, changelings of perspective, now but the breeze that coats me, were the hot air currents that lifted you, now here, days later, my genlest cloak, as I inscribe to you and the waters that I see, not lapping today, but modestly erupting, the same Atlantic green you have seen days pre-me, but my shoreline sandy, rocks removed, for your comfort, awaiting your arrival the woman sends the seagull, French Toast is ready, (one piece, that talkative white bird's commission) coffee hot n' salted all ready, prepped to your taste and for some reason random, clueless why on, in my Long island offshoot sheltered isle tears wave over my cheeks, which I must erase/disguise, before the repast begins Surprise! How came thee to be at our table? How good the meal will taste, now that you chosen to fly/stop by! and this gibberish nonsensical cup of words is your welcoming present, for here, humans are the sovereigns, and the celesetes bow to our wishes, we select our own direction, regardless of how the orbs try our souls, we are most powerful human, sovereigns of our selves
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Jul 13, 2014
Jul 13, 2014 at 11:00 AM UTC
The Sovereign Sun, The Super Moon (We Are Human)
*As the surface clouds cleared and the sovereign sun arose My perspective was no longer fixed on what lay below Yet on what awaits before me…..the unknown. I fly, with the rocky shoreline behind me.* Maria ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ the emperor of the solar system demands obeisance but for half of our life ceding us to the super moon's sequestration, a velvet coated, cosseted, the other-half-of-a-lifetime remainder reminder of the divide no poet can supersede yet, even these planet pulling, tide churning bodies are eclipsed, their torrented powers have human shortcomings orbits prescribed, predictable, they too can only look down upon us and wonder what if and what lays beyond their lawful curves but I can look up to you watch you, human, so powerful are you! you, you, you can reset your course, irrespective of tides, gravity I can watch you rephrase your life, knowing that my eyes   cherish what ere, before in time, what will be your course selection as I write, I wonder if my thoughts sufficiently clarified, do they require editing? no matter, the way they fall is how they'll be served I live with the same orbs, and the winds that lifted your wings, changelings of perspective, now but the breeze that coats me, were the hot air currents that lifted you, now here, days later, my genlest cloak, as I inscribe to you and the waters that I see, not lapping today, but modestly erupting, the same Atlantic green you have seen days pre-me, but my shoreline sandy, rocks removed, for your comfort, awaiting your arrival the woman sends the seagull, French Toast is ready, (one piece, that talkative white bird's commission) coffee hot n' salted all ready, prepped to your taste and for some reason random, clueless why on, in my Long island offshoot sheltered isle tears wave over my cheeks, which I must erase/disguise, before the repast begins Surprise! How came thee to be at our table? How good the meal will taste, now that you chosen to fly/stop by! and this gibberish nonsensical cup of words is your welcoming present, for here, humans are the sovereigns, and the celesetes bow to our wishes, we select our own direction, regardless of how the orbs try our souls, we are most powerful human, sovereigns of our selves
nat-lipstadt
Written by
nat-lipstadt
99/M/NYC/Lippstadt/Kraków
Jul 13, 2014
Jul 13, 2014 at 11:00 AM UTC
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