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bonvkiller Dec 2018
i stopped writing
because
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
Feggyr Citack Oct 2018
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
Aaron LaLux May 2018
Remember when,
the Amazon meant the rainforest,
remember when,
Birds were winged creatures that flew above us,

remember when,
our memory wasn’t something on our phone,
remember when,
memory was something in our minds?

Do you remember?

Do you remember,
when we were Light Beings,
not confined to physical bodies,
remember when being a being wasn’t so disgusting?

Remember when we lived,
without farting or pooping or bleeding or sneezing,
remember when we loved for the sake of love,
remember when we’d get together without needing a reason,

Do you remember?

Do you remember unconditional love,
I mean real unconditional love,
back when what we did actually seemed to matter,
before we gave up and stopped giving a fck,

before we threw in the white towel,
and sold our souls to buy in by trying to buy the right vowels,
remember when we had each other to believe in,
before we bought into the dreams they sell and we sold out?

Do you remember?

Do you remember when we lived freedom,
and it wasn’t just a dream we believed in,
do you remember when our little personal revolutions were evolutionary,
do you remember when we could trust everything we were seeing,

now the whole background seems like a green screen,
now the whole world seems like a crime scene,

in a Mandala of Samsara,
trying to break the cycle with Tantra Mantras,
and I wan’t to be Dr. Jekyll all harmless,
but sometimes I scare myself and become a monster,

but I guess that’s the price we pay to play The Game,
ah this life is expensive but liberation is priceless,
so I pay my dues and keep moving through,
making moves like there’s nothing to lose but this life I shine until lifeless,

taking trips without falling to destinations that are calling,
my name by ship car or plane trying to get it all but in the process forgetting everything,
so I preemptively apologize if we meet again,
and I admit that I easily forget and have to ask you to please remind me your name,

remember when,
the Amazon meant the rainforest,
remember when,
Birds were winged creatures that flew above us,

remember when,
our memory wasn’t something on our phone,
remember when,
memory was something in our minds?

Do you remember?

∆ LaLux ∆
sunprincess Mar 2018
In a rainforest
admiring everything green,
A blue butterfly
Bryden Jan 2018
A parrot, clothed in a robe of red,
sits and stares and admires the view;
A canvas of blue, untainted by cloud,
illuminated by life below.
A slight breeze bends the droplet shaped leaves
to stick out their noses and praise the sky,
some point fingers towards the parrot,
preoccupied with the scene.
Slender green snakes engulf the plants,
that take their slumber on the jungle bed,
while pointed leaves,
stiff and straight,
stand like cardboard props.
A monkey perches under a fruit crowned bush,
it’s brother watching in scorn.
Tempted like Eve, he plucks an orange from the tree
and cradles its belly, swollen and ripe.
Below,
a leafy cage swallows those who disobey,
observed by the guard in his uniform of blue.
Above, pink flowers
held up by tangled arms,
soak up the last of the dying flames,
as the sun is extinguished by the canopy.
Tropical torches flicker blue and white
playing hide and seek within dense undergrowth,
while the parrot still sits and admires the view,
amongst changing shades of green.
A poem based on 'The Exotic Landscape' by Henri Rousseau
Kristen Hain Sep 2015
Often times I’m staring
Awing in the curves of full blooming lips
Carved jawbone covered with deepening dark moss
The journey through the damp forest after warm rain
It is all awake alive and breathing clearly
Rising and falling like the rare drops from deciduous leaves
I cannot tell you how inhuman you feel to me
Your skin darkens around your eyes from nights up
Long evenings too many and whiskey that never even made it to a cup
Sometimes I cannot break a gaze from the casement around your pupil
The pools of honey drip further toward me
My feet find it impossible to remove themselves
So much like quicksand but sweet calming and warm
Smooth and simplistic in youth the way skin drapes
Hangs over structured bones in the most phenomenal way
Just as your eyes are lavished in graham brown
You stay glowing even in the cold weather from blessed ancestry
Down to tender arteries and muscle where I’ve placed lips a thousand times
Shoulders swoop outwards like broad boulders
Distinguishable markers play connect the dots toward inked surfaced skin
Permanence of scarred lines forming a hot air balloon and anchor pulling it down
It’s from your favorite band, I’m noticing synapses collide on the concept
Elongated extended vines lead to tools that hold and create masterpieces
Strong slender hands with fingertips that press and pluck strings
Coat themselves with paint on late evening or early mornings
Tread lightly on my skin and illuminate my face with a coaxing touch
You are the rain forest from sunrise
My heart thumps to the sense of danger behind a corner
But I know such things and if they were to **** me,
I would be treasured in becoming a tall Kapok
With roots buried miles deep
mark john junor Sep 2014
her happier eyes
brilliant even in the sun
but she has a rough feel to her soul
she walks along the hot sidewalk with a dozen bags in arm
looks like it would tire an army of horses
but she says shes fine
"don't bug me with that 'good guy ****'
know your good, just not right now...
cause id rather be mad"

three thirty in the pool of a streetlight
we both swim in reasons
we both have battleships on fire
and its really only the hot humid air that keeps the blow by blow going

by dawn we are curled up in a park
miles from home
making love cause there aint much left to say
shes still mad
but shes ready to cry
i tell her i'm wrong
but we both know that don't matter
we both are just confused by the her that aint here
we are just confused by what should be

her happier eyes brilliant like twin starlight trains
keep speeding over me
and i keep kissing her hand
cause it s the nice guy thing to do
two hopeless romantics lost in the south florida rainforest
Heliza Rose Apr 2014
Cant you see?,
When you cry a piece of The rainforest dies
xoK Mar 2014
Tiny wrists.
Tiny rivers of blue.
Translucent.
I'm thinking about making myself a home
Beneath your pale skin.
I'd float along your lazy blue river
Until I make my way to your ghost chest
And burrow myself a tunnel
Deep inside your heart.
Light myself a campfire,
And pitch a tent.
Looks like I'm gonna be here for a while.
I am rocked to sleep with each beat:
Onetwo. Onetwo. Onetwo.
And my heart-house dreams
Intermingle with yours.
Maybe if we dream hard enough,
We can create a world of our own.
Where red blood cells sing like angels
Housed in four chapel-chambers,
And each artery stretches up far
Like a rainforest canopy
Riddled with exotic capillary-flowers.
Can we be safe here?
The heart has tender walls
But it is a soldier.
Though it may be kicked down,
It forges on
And picks itself right back up again.
Always beating,
Always winning.
Your heart is a soldier.
A fighter.
A protector.
I think I feel safe,
For the first time in a long time,
Within the home I've made for myself
Inside of who you are.
LDR life.

— The End —