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 Nov 2021 Seranaea Jones
SCHEDAR
Sometimes,
in the fall of deep
silent despair
When,
there's nothin left
but prayer
Time builds a staircase,
out of nowhere

With it's every step
brings closer, the clarity
of sound mind
It’s a quarter past 3 o’clock in the morning
Full moon overhead , makes the mood just right
This beautiful song comes on
From my old music box
That was left unplugged
On the old coffee table next to my bed
My old music box always has a bad habit
singing on its own without warning
Even while being unplugged
Almost as if
There  is a ghost sharing
The house with us
But this time
The song released was beautiful ,
Beautiful because it was about love
Or
Maybe perhaps  it could’ve been
About  hatred
Half asleep I really cannot tell,
But anyhow,
In between of the sweetness
Of the artist voice
Us howling at the moon
And the record’s hoarse,
Lies , violent skips
I dance, I dance anyway,
My gentle moves in my bed,
Over, under
And
In between the sheets

And
In her steady arms
And her sweet caressed
I found solace and forgiveness
Until the light of day
 Nov 2021 Seranaea Jones
SCHEDAR
Just let me
be
in my castle of snow!

If I am so
cold
only a hot headed
Snow Man
be invited in,
to melt my
frozen heart

Together,
making slush
out of nothing but,

Snowfall
in a sky full of fire? When did
the pain turn to desire? It rains
splinters in the yard. Every broken
shard is sharpened with the axe,

and thrown back, poking holes
in their stories. They trumpet, the morning
glories in bright blue, climbing on
a twisted vine. Cutting their twine with

a searing hue in burgundy
till they bleed out their petal heads
jerkily. Smirking and mounting the steed,
riding off after planting the seed!
He trails.

He turns.

He falls behind.

But always discerns.

Fortunately our tastes for this
sort of life coincide,
except in the matter of sunrise,
which he likes to see up and dressed,
and I from my bed.
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