Tears, tears, tears
we all shed them
now and then
from all sorts of fears
my face, just like the amazonian rainforest
full of life
yet washed down with pouring rain
this feeling in my chest
is telling me to stay
to do as I should
to be where I should
but my mind is telling me to go away
As the fire burns mercilessly
I am saddend that
My favorite forest is dying
I can hear the screaming for help
This reminds me of a day I lost another beloved
Forest behind my house.
Inferno we bring into our lifes
While we speak the sweetest lullabies
We do care about the buildings we made
But the biggest rainforest is not interesting as Notre Dame
What is more important , our biggest rainforest or some piece of architecture? So how it is possible I heard about Amazon rainforest fire after 2 weeks and Fire about Notre Dame exactly the same hour it happened..
A story isn’t a story without the beginning.
A beginning that told us from the start that there was an end,
An end so near that we were not ready.
I was afraid of the cliffhanger that approached quicker than a rolling thunderstorm,
A storm that looked only of dark skies with hopes of a drizzle,
Not a flood.
Our passion died like the fire within that storm,
The drizzle that turned from a downpour into a flood warning into a whirling tornado of unhappiness.
My dear, I wish I could say we were the storm but I was the rain and you were the fire but the thing was,
You saw me coming.
You saw the storm and the rain yet you lit yourself upon a dry Sahara of promises and the secret I do’s we whispered to each other during the night.
That dry, crackled earth turned soft and squishy from the waves of turmoil that rained down onto the surface,
The fire doused with remorse over a lost lover.
You weren’t dead,
You just left without saying goodbye.
The ****** was nothing of a ****** but a steady decline of I love you’s to, “Have a good life,”
To barely talking,
To trailing down a hill to the very end of our story,
I regret everything but you, my darling.
The damp earth will grow again and while I may remember the dry Sahara,
I will grow a rainforest of color without you in it.
resting high atop
lush rainforest canopy
the bold magpie sings
i stopped writing
the well was so full it overflowed
and the trees were killed one by one
i felt finished and defeated just as the rainforest fell
my heart is like the well that is now
empty,a hollow shell
im now half full instead of half empty
i see things without my eyes
my heart is dying rind of an orange
the mold poison you see
my hands are just legs of a spider typing and weaving its words
im no longer part of a person
im just a part of this world
time-thank you to my lunch table
Psychotria Elata needs your discretion,
its hot lips' bloom is premature,
****** showing at her best.
Close your eyes,
don't watch her flowers coming out,
the shock will **** your desire.
Psychotria Elata needs your protection,
its secret toes that root the soil,
may soon be dangling burned and bare.
Open your eyes,
stop the men ravaging the forest,
stop them from taking what they want.
The 2018 presidential elections in Brazil have presented another politician preaching violence against man, nature and common sense. Among his supporters are the persons who take away rainforest territories from the local people, burn huge areas of the land and emaciate the soil by growing industrial crops.
The flower of Psychotria Elata has become an iconic image of the arousing beauty and the innocence of the tropical rainforest. Cf https://g.co/kgs/5jxRdt