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Noemi May 2020
My laurels means nothing
They're tenderly held together by
cheap glue and crumble to ash
a little bit more every time I touch them
yours are made of gold and sapphire
they're sturdy and I bet if they fell
they'd hold together nicely
but they've never fallen
gravity doesn't seem to affect you the way
it does me
AD Mullin Aug 2018
Think about it,
She off-handedly remarks:
Formality is separateness

Lost in one of the nebulous folds
Of my cerebellum
I acknowledge her comment with a thousand yard stare

Eagle eyed, I surf a warm updraft
To rise above it all
But I can't slip the prison of pre-conception

Amuse me, she says.
Whisper me your pretty little lyrics,
Sing me your song

You have one of the most interesting faces I’ve ever met
I brazenly tell her, and
My minds eye is full of anticipation

I know it’s pedantic
I am not so romantic
Maybe we should not peel back the veneer, but

A peak

It’s inexplicable

Naive and unassuming, with
Bashful sincerity, and
An enduring patience

Awaken: open your eyes
The serpent goddess counsels

And you will find your way
Written January 6, 2016 with insight from Cath Maige Tuired
So should a seed
does grow must leave
its home:

Earthly walls,
empty shells
he covers himself with.

In nakedness
must Adam gather up
sewn up leaves.

While surrendering
into the dark
and foreboding earth:

Miles wide and miles deep.
Alone, into the sweltering
and blistering heat of the sun.

Armed with but
a leaf for Mercy!
cries his clothelessness to the wind.

So must a flood pass
once, twice, over and endure
in callousness and tenderness.

(Paolo Jerome D. Cristobal / August 5, 2014 - Bulacan)

— The End —