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The Hurricane clouds at home are so specific.
She saw their cry after that Jun.
She know which piece of symphony make her stomach churn.
Isn’t it like a diamond showers pushed through her brain
Isn’t it like a thunder of choral ends, rushing out like a hurricane roar?
Isn’t it  like a memorial bonfire blowing past her rear garden door?
Isn’t it like the home cloud force of a invisible hand,
smashing down on her floor?
Invisible,but’ a hurricane it is.
She urges to rush to her home.
Hurricane knows we are all under the home cloud.
Sometimes, Hurricane seem full like their menace.
And other times,
she maybe just need to be loved and be homed
Do we all need to be loved and homed?
If home is anarchy.
If home is happiness
And if home is war.
Then what and where is home?
By Angel. XJ.  19/08/2019
【A Mosquito, Killer’s kisses】
By Angel. XJ  09/08/2019

Gentle, but deeply ...
Mosquito whispers to herself :
Will I have the last kiss with him tonight?
Shall I forget how much it hurt,
when he left from my sight?
Shall I ever speak to him agian  
I am not a killer, only I love to kiss,
gentle, but deeply...
Mosquito toned up her silky voice,
she was singing to herself,
in the spring a paradise,
in the summer a hell,
and in the autumn a heaven..
But is there another lonesome heart that I could kiss?
Dont keep reminding me about
The Valley of the Shadow of Death
I am no killer,
but addicted to kisses,
I am no killer,  but only like to kiss
Likewise, Mozart’s requiems where hidden the code,
A mosquito’s love and destiny.
Gently, but deeply...
Mosquito stops her whisper,
No more kisses and only shows teeth,
desperation in her eyes
it pierced her bones.
With sweet, painless,
a Mosquito, killer's kisses,
gentle, but deeply...
A lonesome Mosquito
Dido Dido, Lino Lino
rain drops into the deep forest end,
new images with daily exercises right up to the weekend,
the realization of our current moments,
will you yet not to set in there.

Dido Dido, Lino Lino
Those are looking for reunions,
Some are caught in eternal confusion,
thoughts of thee were seen at end of the path
Is it just a delusion or retribution?
hardly any one making moves,
many of them are just goons,
blue baboons.

Dido Dido, Lino Lino
What if there's only a righteous few,
making daily moves,
which they can prove,
as they get out the shelters,
into a new home land quite soon.

Dido Dido, Lino Lino
Shall we remove the mask and look towards our new mirror moon?
get into her mountain *****,
for you have yet to bloom,
don't let the weekend consume them...
Weekend is to start where the  holiday will end soon
Windows sneezing past the trees.
Other flowers streak past with snarls.
Vitality of descending moment,
springs forth prior to the receding dusk.
A woman cleans her garden terrace.
Rehearsing for the next guests’ visit.
But then she left.
A boy jumps to a swing chair,
catches up with a butterfly breeze.
He wondered and asked,
could you help, if she is left there?
Gesmoi’s solo bark has no echos.
And then recedes silently.
Prior to his hind-paw stretch steadily.
Gesmoi’s barking voice is lasting.
Long breath after a finger click.
Dismount and leave the garden ride,
day dream.
at fiends’s terrace garden.
By Angel. XJ 30/07/2019
She meets them at the reading corner,
they from work,she from sky.
In the grayling dusk of a thank god,
It’s a freedom land, Thursday evening, prior to weekend.
They greet her with words semi-adventurous -
Can we have no more volatility spill over analytics?
Can we stop discussing AI validate code?
But at times leisure, pleasant surprise meets, cheers at beer bar break.
#Pleasant surprise ;# Cheers
How were these melodic notes made?
A thousand symphonies
from the sky upon him laid?

Mr. Tree and petite Ms Tree met with a distant ancestry,

Although he sprouted from a Cherry pit,
She has been growing from an apple seed,
Together they play,
hiding and seeking with the wind,

Silly them when thinking about the humanity
while they both have plans to grow to be.

Petite Tree sits under Mr Cherry tree
They laugh and laugh, won't leave.

Mr. giving Tree
shares his cherries for free.

Petite Tree eased her hesitation smiles.

Please, please Mr. Tree with cherries,
Petite Tree would like to grow with you distance memories.
Following up with a peer poet’s post in regarding Mr. Tree.
May the nights be clear.
When the lights went out.
She wore red,
Not knowing what love was
"And everyone will be paid for everything"
She hear it not for the first time.
She seems to look young
in a red, shiny dress.
She’d like just one thing:
Not to think about the bad.
She wore white
To meet her future love.
"And everyone will be paid for everything"
She can hear it endlessly.
She will be in a white dress
Without the golden ring.
Her soul is forgiven,
Let's scare the crows.
She wore black
Even before the funeral.
"And everyone will be paid for everything"
She heard it every time.
For she will laugh for a show.
Wearing a black dress.
But when she wore pink,
She did not hear anything, the world was silent.
Find your own colour, if you could there is colour of love, for you.
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