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David Hilburn Jan 11
Lions of worth
Sheer actual and letting a moon...
Save this last dance for danger
Creation and beckoning silence, come too soon

Throne of sense, a dissuading knot
Persuaded to live in the opus, the chastity
Of courtesy's phantom, a wisdom caught
A wisdom capable of the roses of vanity...

Vantage one (soliloquy)
Threats of privilege, share the land
Sour or dour, the notion to quell, is heed
Stricken with the mores of wishes, the tongue to wonder

Vantage two (espousal)
Worlds of visit, vicinity, and vagueness
Together for a question, in the form of wealth
We see your tomorrow, for today in a mirrors bless...

Vantage three (fulfilment)
Sweeter as us, than you have a right to be
The tongue of vice, a victory of spirits, and solace or lament
Has the voice of harmony, like the very light we seem to eat

Vantage four (escapism)
The terror of repose, that has been divined
Sovereign to forces, with a greater eye, than the silence of despotism
Has reached the known, the curiosity of a simple sigh...

Sign's of the times
Hatred is our reward, no fool without a yesterday
That has, become a terror with us, the saviors of lives
With a solitude we offer is confusion, and the mercy of angels, which may...
When kings place a ray of sunshine in your hair, flowers die...
Lit by nature,
a flame of beauty

burning fiery
in her eyes.

Glowing like
the
mountains sunrise.
Soft,
and calm
like lilly of
the valley
beside spring.
Modeling silky
smile.
Making my bell 🛎 ring.
Rainbow 🌈 worship such allurment, can really
make carnivores
easily feed on grass.

Beautiful creature,
perfect nature.
Mystery girl intrigue
Raven Feels Jul 2021
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, and she dreams:?

expired sunset
a multicolored sky fired and met
wings of flee burnt rain
dawns of lasts in unseen flames

the table dines
lions chase forests of mine
like when the first sip shadowed
of the water green in lakes shallow

hands shot eyes intake
tremble ripped canvas of french fake
ashes unknown no name
to reach out faces or claim

polished the twenty third
out of the bathing bird
a Sunday morning motions
a faze of a dark table believed bad omen


                                                                               -----ravenfeels
lua Mar 2020
Of midnight dreary and starlight’s end
Singing gentle tunes in the lions’ den
Each growl muddled with a lonely saint’s cry
Drinking in the sorrows of sinners who’ve died
I pray to a dead god, an exploding star in the night
The words overflow, thick and bright
Like blood in my veins, like roses in the summer
It reaches out to me with its cold, bluing fingers
A lion roars, they wither, they die
And in seconds, ever wondrous, they breathe life
I see this, I scream, I shout, I cry out
I say, Take me out
Take me out!
Take me out!
Give me the thing I’ve yearned for
The thing that my heart aches for!
The thing that I crave!
S e t   t h i s   d e n   a b l a z e
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