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Welcome to spring!
Season of love and liveliness
Occasion of novel beginnings
And opportunities

In this realm of joy
Trees charmingly give birth
To new baby leaves
Flowers blossom
Spreading their sweet aroma
In the air
Rainbow shows up with a smile
Romanticizing the earth

Butterflies exquisitely
Waver everywhere
Birds sing along
Building their nest
Fireflies appear
As Tinker Bells
Rabbits run around
With jubilation
Chipmunks dance
With gratification

This is the time
When nature writes
Its own poetry
In a beautiful form
Garrett Johnson Oct 2019
I’m gone.

Cured in an alley.
Forgotten by the walls.
Greeted by neon hands.
Seared into the corners.
The ash dances like whirlwinds.
Meeting every beat to an azure strum.
And a calm kiss under the clear night.

Garrett Johnson.
Wear a sweater and you’ll be ok.
Hannah Zedaker Nov 2017
You rolled  down the window, and the cold air of the night rushed in.
It pounds on me as a mad woman on the door of an ex-lover,
And as it dissipated, it danced on my skin with feet of lead.
I took this beating, because in the moment
I enjoyed the pain;
.The coolness of the kiss from an abusive mother.
And she whispers in my ear that…
I am alive.
Dawn of Lighten Jan 2017
Seep upon the illusion of vanity,
As your true morality contested.

While all things fall asunder,
None reach perfect atonement.

Such struggle is but divinity of being human,
The tested fallacy in full glory.

In those imperfection lies heart of human kind,
And ridged expectation flow with the wind,
For all things do come to an end.

That precious moments define us,
And our flaws prescribe to center of universe,
For night sky are basked by infinite wisdom.

All things are illumination of life,
And there are no regrets,
But lost ether alone amongst the serenity of celestial plane.
What does it truly mean to be a human being, but the stride to be better in our imperfection, but that makes life little more interesting.  

There are no perfect universe that cradle our senses, but why would we want to clone who we are, knowing imitation is a limitation?
Hypnotic music, joyous sounds surround
The fans, all entranced by the performers.
The drummer happily bashes and pounds
Everything he sees shaped like cylinders.

The hi-hat steadily keeps the rhythm,
The bass drum makes a thud, quite powerful.
The crowd can't help but nod along with him
As he makes these beats so insatiable.

The cymbals create such fearful crashes,
And his finely tuned snare shoots roaring pops
Hurtling towards the off-guard masses,
This manic madness just can't seem to stop!

What exactly does he have left to prove?
He simply wants to see everyone *groove!
Martin Narrod Apr 2014
it is a post-human resistance to still-born meat,
the floccinaucinihilipilification of the catholic retreat;
another God disguised to look like me.

— The End —