The black ink pours in
The white page is pure gold
Wisdom seeps through
Transforming the lives
And the knowledge speaks
To the people in every fold.

as the docile yellow light
tickles at my fingertips,
rested tenderly on your cheek—

i can feel each and every
fleck of light on us—
piercing my veins,

and when the hue shuts its eyes,
leaving the chaos of light to blink—
that’s where we’ll be.

softly in the moonlight,
your silver hands on my cheek.
eyes with flecks of silver
you drape me in silky starlight.

i touch your arms—
golden sparks trickle up my fingers,
heat flooding my vision,
as i melt into your embrace.

May 1st 2017..

The sky is not blue..

It’s broken pieces of lapis lazuli..a diomand prism setting fire at the heart..it’s breaks of light..A blend of shadows..an almost seeming bright..a brimming sight of black, gold & silver linings..It’s a breaking balance of bold beautiful colours & so is life.

we say
that “nothing lasts,”
and we’re too old to ask
why gold can’t stay past
sunrise

we get
by folded, passed,
and sold en masse,
kept cold and
advertised

we choose
to mold and mask
ourselves solely after
the soulless laughs
that leave us

it’s true
that holding fast
is bold, but glass
breaks wholly grasped
when heedless

with hearts left
swollen, gashed
from a scroll-on-past
control mastered
with age

we chase
a goal of basking
in rolling grasses
where something gold
can stay

petals of glass
roses of gold
do you remember
your promises of old?
once was said "i'll love you forever"
that promise was what was holding me together