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Robert Ullrich  Dec 2014
Utsubyo
Robert Ullrich Dec 2014
Rafflesia god,
nestled deep inside my skull,
Friend to my hatred.

Full of hell I am
scorched by brimstone. I
am blackened again.

Unable to leave
my bed of molten flames
static blankets me.

I lie here hoping
that you will burn out some day,
Rafflesia god.

Flames crawl inside
searching for your ugly face
but no face to find.
Jaz Nov 2013
I never thought
I would've locked away a flower.

I never thought I would
Trap such a beautiful creature of nature.
The humongous red petals
Stained with water,
Attracting such a wide diversity of insects.

I had always believed that
Gorgeous things should be set free,
So it could live to it's fullest.
Spread out wide in the open.
And so,

I never thought
I would've locked away a flower.

Yet my marvelous mind encaged a
Beautiful beast,
An imperfectly perfect plant.
Locked it away for years and
Hid it so deep in captivity that
I could never have found it
And I would never have found it

Until now.

Years and years and years on,
Since the flower did first bloom,
It's scent has finally found me and
So did Understanding.

The pungent stench that
Reeked from the Rafflesia,
It slowly seeps into the present
Drowning the pretty world with
Pests meant to pollinate it's seed.
The truly gorgeous flowers slowly
Wilt away as

Evil
Ovethrows
Everything.

I once locked up a memory so tight
I never ever found it,
But in the recent days,
It came slowly
Then like a tidal wave:
Crashed down on me.
The shame just filling my heart.
Killing the not even alive.

I never thought
I would've locked up a flower.

But now I wish I'd locked it back up.
Jun Lit  Mar 2019
Rafflesia
Jun Lit Mar 2019
Woody vine’s poor friend
Gave all up for Beauteous end.
Nature’s investment.
Inspired by my seeing blooms of Rafflesia lagascae, a rare parasitic plant, that depends entirely on a wild woody vine called Tetrastigma, on Mount Makiling in Laguna, Philippines
Satsih Verma  May 2019
Corrosion
Satsih Verma May 2019
Some things left unsaid.
I will know you by tremors.
But will stand very still.

You need a space to
feel my lips in silent dark.
Birch had debt to pay.

There was no choice to
break from the past of Rafflesia,
you call corpse flower.

— The End —