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sparklysnowflake Jan 2019
i want blue eyes
glistening like moon ripples on
mirrored lakes

i want blue eyes
burning like sapphire flames
in the furnace of half-baked
dreams

blue eyes
that churn glittering snow
and overflow
overshadow

blue eyes
like
liquified winter skies
dripping, seeping sorrow
wings of iridescent dragonflies
fountains in secret grottos

blue eyes
like yours
lost
            in their own ocean labyrinths
            in thought
            in other dimensions
where brown eyes
            cannot follow

sometimes i think
that maybe
if my eyes were blue
too
maybe you would

take me with you


            take me with you
AU
sparklysnowflake Dec 2018
i thought i was special
i thought she went home and
            spent hours combing through my irises searching for
            colored flecks that match her own

i thought she was hoping so hard that i felt
            her wishes dissolved in tears
            seeping from her palms
                        when she cradled my cheekbones

i thought she always knew what i was thinking –
            that if i let her stare for too long,
            she would find the hopeless poetry
                                    brimming with bitter-tasting imitations
                        that i etched into my retinas
            and the thousands of tattered fading photographs
                        i plastered onto the walls of my mind
                        – a record of all the moments when she
                                    let me go

but really
i've always known she loves you more
i know because i can see your name
embroidered in the fabric of her spirit
and mine is
only
fading in temporary ink
it will be
g    o        n                e
soon

when i am faded and forgotten:
i hope you remember how special she is
i hope you
            tell her everyday ...

            while i cry,
                        missing her,
                        desperately clutching
                                    the skin she touched
                                                now peeled into open wounds
                                                burning in the cold
                        and waterlogged, bodiless papers
                                    covered only with
                                    bitter-tasting imitations,

i hope you
listen as her words melt through you
            as her laugh sparkles in the empty air
fill your cracks and gaping canyons with the gentle blue
            she pours from her irises in silky ribbons
etch the feeling of her delicate fingers through your hair
            onto your retinas
                        maybe you will be able to immortalize her
                        and everything you see will
                        glow
let your pained tears drip silently into her cupped palms
            as she holds you in her sweet rose-colored warmth,

and pin just this one moment
                        onto the blank walls of your mind
            the moment when she held you and
            when, inside, you knew
            that
                        she would
            never
let you go
AU
sparklysnowflake Oct 2018
i want to pick myself up
            head in pinched fingers
pull my tired body out of reality's
stone walls and
            blurry vision
aching steps
            and charred black worries

crumple me up
            melt me down
and pour me
into the tiny orange flame
of a tall white candle

let me hover over
life
crackle softly
rest peacefully
and
burn

slowly
breathing the turquoise like lavender,
and sipping the blue summer.
bitter cold clouds glide and morph lava lather,
floating whispers cut by sweet pineapple sunshine.

soon, a moment, now
rhythms ripple the sky like skipping stones
we jump the music like puddles
splashing in the frequencies.

cobalt bass rumbles the earth hungry,
pumps the air with springing spirals
pushing and pulling the senses,
reverberating through cells.

heavy mud humming, stomping
echoes through our atoms dizzy;
balancing tuned body to innate electricity
the fizz of circulating lemonade energy.

we jump the music like puddles
splashing in the frequencies.

strawberry melodies spilling ribbons,
dolphin leaps of the spaces inbetween beats,
lines of colours overlapping,
colliding, mixing, merging, blending
in with the forest.

washing over souls the life fire sparkles
like a clear water cleansing harmonies,
sound waves crashing against inertia.
phosphorescent glow of re-charged love
for the world, for being, animation

flowing through burnt smoky ashes
of sapphire charcoal skies;
dimmed radiation of chlorophyll emerald days.
the smell of salt, dry bark, fluffy carbon mists,
trembling lights softening the eyes'
grip on outlines, loosening lies.

watching the cycles of patterns
tumbling colours through a mill rotating,
and the silence of listening
when the music comes to an end.
Something I've been working on for a long time on and off since 2015.
sparklysnowflake Sep 2018
Beauty is everywhere … isn’t it?
Truth ribbons twisted into knotted nests
housing corrupt filth and crusted lies
            remain deliberately ignored
to spoil further
and pollute the air with
            smog the color of rupees and shifty eyes

why let sleeping dogs lie?

too many can crowd your Mind
steal the breath from your eroding lungs
press against the brittle glass of
            moral compasses
                        and shatter
            rights and wrongs
blur lines between
            honest ambition and power addiction
            use and abuse
            the lower classes and
                        “untouchable” garbage scavengers plastered
                                    with muck and grime
                                    too filthy for water to clean
                        deprived even
                                    of the life of a sleeping dog

absolute power corrupts absolutely
Power is not love
            whether you are crooked slumlord of Annawadi
            or All-Holy Divine Servant to God Himself
and neither is pride
Love does not burn tongues
            except when it is not
Holding me with his right hand
and scarring me with his left
is not even half-love

sleeping dogs don't deserve to lie
It is my universe to disturb
They will bite me but
the crushed Purple Hibiscus
            underneath full bellies
will unfurl their petals and rise up
again.
Written as a synthesis of and response to Purple Hibiscus by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie and Behind the Beautiful Forevers by Katherine Boo
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