orchids,
alien and other worldly.

beauty,
bordering the grotesque and bizarre,
strangely exhilarating.

variations,
wild and uninhibited,
even orgiastic,
of a mind, as if,
not of this world;
shapes and sizes,
folds and spirals
colours and colourations.

at times,
more animal or insect,
than flower.

if a rose is Mozart,
an orchid, Stravinsky.

Streams— relay the slumber
Tributes to— the Waterfall's Sprite.

'Twas when— the compass— Dismantled
As the bedrocks gruel— Distort the ledge,
Confronted by— tidal waves;—
Imbued the Crush— of a Carapace
That let the Visions— Sprout;—
Abandoned— With the Barriers..

So long,— I do not know..

Sights— Times— are enclosing
Onto the lost,— And the Seafloor sinks
Slowly— Diminishing— The Sirens' Call..

Outstretch the air—
Carved by colours
Sprinkle the wide— Singing Vikings!
Cargo Ships,— Route Inclining!

The ignited Flags of Statutes,
Hailing and burying,— Bonkers in buckets;
Hoops and loops,— with Claps of Needles—
To strike the Base— To No Vent
Whilst the other Mesh— huddle its tent.

What brings the Majors to this Event?—
‘Tis the dignified— that lined Straight Heads
Appointed the triggers— with earnest tests
“All of thee must mark thy honor—
Shield each and other’s posts,— And smash the Alien’s Bowl!”

The oath—which we left— the Dolphins behind
The Tails that rekindle— lullabies from baggages;
Tailors saluting the servants' urges,
That caused the immunity to separate.

Incoming visitors—
Driving the lenses to enlarge—
With Crossed Arms,— Convey the welcome— of Slashed orders
Recipes to pull— the Colon’s Stools;— Both to be ambitious
As Tenures of Patron’s Troops.

A leg for a leg!— A tank for a tank!
Let me sniff the organs in thy chambers—
To perform the drills— of thy cranes,
And later,— block thy Meteorites,—
For our Projectiles to flee!
Show the Main Lands— Thy Powers!

The faith of Hawk Chess—
Whence the heroes— throw their protests
Disseating Kings and Queens—
That envied the Scores of Ages,—
And snapped the systems,—
Celebrating the Disorders of Victories
Whether mine or thine— We cut the strings
Whence the Prerogatives— Laugh at the Quakes..