~
Ivory-teal ruffled his parochial feathers
His tongue dipped in languages
He wanted to learn the pronunciation of life
As he folded himself in Egyptian ink

He opened his mind against the dioramic surface of syllables
Painted in alloy; dripping from a papery canvas
He brushed his ivory creme feathers
in crimson and lavender hieroglyphics
Bleeding their pictorial valor inside a golden sepia lantern

"Go on, light the world with your suspense and mystery"

Ivory-teal twittered to himself
Wrapping the bijoux night around his little body
he disappeared into the stars
The teal birthmark on his forehead; glowing

He took the lantern in his gold beak
fluttering away into spirals of smoke
Toward Mythology mountain
Where a storm of butterflies
were winging their seasonal weather

Ivory-teal sometimes wished he could be a candle flame
Flickering in the darkest of moments
Letting the sunshine bleed through his beautiful feathers and soft skin

But his destiny was a bit different
He was folded in cultural prophetic proverbs and
sewed neatly in parabolic traditions
Where nationality is mixed into colorful pixels inside skin
Accents are curved in throats and lilted on the edge of tongues

Ivory-teal was carved in diamond flex dreams
In a temple of mythical patterns
Imprinted in mercury cocoons laminated with knowledge
The Angel Apostles printed him in their book of Dreamtales
Where he became a bilingual silhouette

He was birthed right here on this mountain
As he balanced himself on thoughts
He had learned to love himself to this point of his life
He wanted to be the change he wanted in the world
He gently lifted the little lantern

It rose up toward the sun and exploded into rainbow fireworks
The contexts that were inside split sideways
Tilting and pressing themselves into the air particles

If birds could smile then that would've been Ivory-teal
As he laughed quietly

"Now breathe in earthlings, breath in the wonders and knowledge of life"

He then spread his gorgeous ivory creme wings
tattooed with all the languages of the world and life itself
He twirled into the sunset and bled himself in a cloud

A mountaineer had been watching and wondered to himself
As he unknowingly breathed in the context from Ivory-teal's lantern

"If flying is a language I would love to learn and speak it with my wings"

But shouldn't he know that language already
For it is the language of freedom
Ivory-teal is one of many symbolic accents
Of that beautiful language
~

~
Sitting on my rhinestone lotus pond floating around in my oceanic bedroom
The haunting begins its sinister buzzing with a silent ‘vroom’
Wooden door opening by itself
My jeweled heartbeat falls from a bone frame shelf

Demons hanging like poisoned vines from the painted ceiling sky
Gods then pours their breath inside my empty soul, drowning all insinuated lies
Butterfly piano keys fluttering their enchanted melodies
The notes dripping pearls of discarded lullabies into my hidden pleas

Lost dreams entangled in my seashell hair
As I sit cradling broken memories in my emerald iris, the ones I’ve forgotten to share
Dead skin peeling from my fingertips as I turn a dusty page in my notebook
Loose frays of secrets coming apart, falling away in my Underland outlook

I remember the day I recreated my being, as I drew Self into a mermaid rose
Piercing my revolving face with a jagged pen,
**** fairytales bleeding from my lips, a new world I chose
My dress of ivory seaweed has caught onto a sharp end
I sink into the onyx murky depths of my rhinestone lotus pond, wishing for a friend

Discarded
Bombarded

Licking death, seeing the dead
My attire drifts in the sulphide air, swirling with the essence of dread
I now leave my surreal sanctuary
As rhinestones melt, the pond drains, the lotus folds its metal origami

I’m back from the world I created
Back to reality where a sententious poet is constantly hated
Back to a butterfly wallpapered bedroom where hallucination spend
Yea I’m back, but not for long, not until inspiration comes and I swallow my pen
And into my notebook realm I will be back in my own world again…
~

~
Symbols danced in InkGirls eyes

As she twirled herself

Onto the stage

Pen in mouth, her skin the page

-

Rhythmic sensuality

Bouncing inside her veins

Her enunciation popping sounds

In the eardrums, of those listening

-

She dances

Her heartbeat prances

Her ink is like France; beauty

Her statement like the Eiffel Tower

-

Poésie Je t’aime

She cries

As she bled herself

Into the diamond around her neck

-

Poetry becomes a worded butterfly

Fluttering toward InkGirl

But when he lands on her

He began to melt into her

-

The words on Poetry’s wings

Became apart of InkGirl

The audience ooh’d and ahh’d

As the swirly word magic robed the girl’s body

-

She became a poem

While she pirouetted

Her body a poetic language

Speaking to the eyes only

-

She is a ballerina Poetess

As she swallows her diamond pen

Her eyes blue pearls

Her lips; poetry

-

Je suis devenu un poème

She whispers

She loved Poetry so much

She became it

-

[Although she is stuck to the stage

She is performed; over and over

The theatre is her birth and her grave

She is chained forever, because of love]

Sweet
Tangy
Tantalizing
Orange

Juicy
Delicious
Dri­pping goodness
Mango

Teardrop
Juicy juiciest
Yellow
Green
Pear

Bittersweet
Acid
Tongue­ biting
Kiwi

Color of rich blood
Fruity
Sour
Ripe
Cherry

Picasso's sky inside a bowl
Rich
Sunset
Sugar
Flowering ornamentals
Plums, Peaches
Almonds, Apricots

The sun shining at the edge of your tongue
Tasty
Bright
Smooth
Soft
Banana

Sunrise
S­unset
Island
Ballet
Citrus
Lemony
Lemon

Colorful paint on an artist canvas
Bitter
Pungent
Sweetness
Translucent
Oval
Ber­ry
Grapes

Gold at the end of a rainbow
Amber
Sticky
Sweet
Organic
Healing
Honey

­The fruits of your heart
The flavors of your soul
The unfolding of a liquid sky. . .

*Shall we indulge?

Ink wounds sketched on her wrist
Prophetess unfurled her diamond proboscis
Hungrily ******* the pollen muse from the lyrist flower
She bounces her piety on the edge of her eyelids

Her azoic eyes flashing
Like a chrome apochromatic
Phonetic voice spinning a tune
Stylus fingertips dancing on a spinel canvas
Outlined on her metal stomach

Though eccentric
She is sterilized with intelligence
Tilting diagonally on insanities thin line
She is straitlaced
Self absorbed
Cryogenic

With upside down crosses imprinted on her throat
While her proselytes unthread dreams
From her coliseum heart
Bowing down to the collage God
Sacrificing sacrifices

“Pull more, pull more!”
Proselytes cried
Sunbeams painting their ash faces
As they pulled more dreams
From between the Prophetess lashes

Her hips becoming a petal chakra
Her vertebrae evaporating into bone butterflies
Fragments of every churchy elements
Pinning themselves to her skin

Her leather wings flapping a nursery rhyme
She spins out of control
Her musical clavicles creating a glassy chemical

Which shimmer and shake
Tattooing her pearl bones
Infusing her thoughts

She grafts herself on the minds
Of her Proselytes

They worshipped her life
They worshipped her body
They fed on her lies

Until one day

Error religion snatched her out her skin
Turned her into sacral fiber
Planted her whispers deep in a field of shredded dreams
And stretched her moon soul
Across the sun stained sky

For all to see
Her star spangled faith
Misshapen into unbelief

She had become her own religion
Her own personal god
But without any meaning

~
As I walk in to the public
Stares reform, deform me
Part of me care, the other doesn’t
I can’t help who I am


My world is psychedelic
Twisted
Not right side up
But up side not right


Although my thoughts
Is like a grid
My mind crafted by genius
I don’t talk much


But I can draw
A masterpiece in seconds
My mind is photogenic
I remember everything


Gifted
Yet different
Misunderstood
Yet understood


I don’t understand the world
Like it’s supposed to be
My way is better [to me]
I have to be organized


I do things differently
It may be strange
But it helps me


Wielded . . .


I live in my own mind
My learning is slower
But sharper
I’m not cursed . . .


I may not be perfect
But I am who I am
Love me for that
And I shall love you back


Emotionally fragile
Yet agile
Autistic . . .
I’m still human
~

Thoughts form in my head

Perfected

Neat

Unscathed


Until . . .

My mouth opens

My tongue flip-flops

Words reform


Tilting inside each other

Melting

Into a demented figure

Then a volcano erupts


From my inner

I scream

I cry

I shout


But the pen touches my fingertips

Quieting the beast in me

“Bleed me”

It whispers


I did

The pen bled my pain

It bled my deepest thoughts

Seemingly only ink cures


My dyslexia
~