Shades of burnt orange and saffron
in clusters between the clouds,
the coolness of the atmosphere
brought ease to my swollen eyes
the bitterness on my tongue washed away
as if caramel was poured into the sky,
sweetness inhabited my lungs
and I uttered...

سُبْحَانَ الله

Let's go to Sabrina's gym,
When city lights are bright,
At there, who're never dim,
At the peak of the night.

Let's see the starry skies,
While trainers battle hard,
With fire in their eyes,
Desires in their hearts.

Some shady figures – oh!
Dressed in black, I see,
Around the city and Silph-co,
Who might they be?

Chorus:

Let's go to Saffron City!
Where magic does happen,
Along this happy ditty,
With hope, and faith and passion!

I sat beneath the old saffron
willow, crumbling leaves
to dust in my soft palms.
Autumn creeped in once again,
setting the trees on fire and carrying
their leaves away with the cool wind.
I looked across the dirt road, at the
old, blackened house, bathed in sunlight.
The peeling paint leapt out like specks of glitter into the wind.
Years of memories were still trapped within its walls.

More than the leaves caught fire.

I want to be in a lilac mood
And listen to lacey lullabies
But I feel electric blue
And long to hear bands like Queen.
I don't wish for forever lilac loves
But maybe just for ten minutes,
Just so I could recognize the feeling.
But I feel electric blue
And to that I must be true.
So I'll kick my feet,
Sing my rag-tag beat,
And go on to dream of sunset yellow
And saffron stories too.

A carcass of saffron rotting daringly in the streets
as the masses slow and drag their feet
to see its splendor, its grossly awesome continuance
after a decidedly less so existence.

Social Climbing

How many asks what is the way forward?
The lack of thought impregnates our air.
By thoughts and acts we pursue social achievements,
Exhibiting selfishness, chaos and insecurity.
We promote ourselves through groups and individuals,
Paving the way to social fame and glory.
All while our country rivers crest with blood,
Peaked by the sacrifices of those socially conscious.
Their protests to gain our freedoms unrecognized,
By those of us ******* in the hunt for fame.
Is it this the dream, we strive to gain?
Shamed am I that we have not addressed their demise.

You love me in intervals of the short beats
Hidden in the blue ribbons beneath the skin,
With a spiral breath you envelope my lost sorrows
In cascades of soft desires.
You dream of me.
Maybe.
You lean your cheek on the purple shadows
Of curved petals of saffron in the frost
Not knowing that
In every line of my heart I seek a part of you.
I stop in the mists of endless contours
Imagining the smell of your hair
And lips of raspberry
Crushed under the fingertips.
Wanting you is like walking on the wire
In another universe drowned in darkness,
Like touching a hot cup
Left on the edge of the table
And like melting the honey under the tongue.
And you,
You love me with a look, gesture,
With every lash that pops into your palm.
Sometimes.
Maybe.