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A leap, a ****** over virtual space
Love shaped motion emerges west and east border.

A yell ends at power station
No more silence, summer breaks the icy skies.

S.Polunin signature leap, with mathematic
Motion of pure moves and spirals,
Likewise, a new-shoot burgeoning pulse

Sun reviles the evolving shadows
A refreshed balance game tags leaf and might
He moves with glimmering dappled light

Movement from a bird of paradise
Melodic cold folds of ego, the deer,
And the wild leopard chanting itself

An animated odd sight come out at night
Gestures flake off where space to cross.
Looseness, forgetfulness, we know it is
not only a summer dance
Dedicated to Sergei Polunin
It was not true, the sky was pouring flood.
It was true and all around with tearing blood.

He was dying next to rusted royal region.
His father frozen the anguish to painful tragedy.
Maybe April light will exhaust.
His heart with its cruel.
Ray, removed his key to intuitive rude.

In this part of the story he was the one who
Dies, the only one, and he died in regretful
Prove Tsar’s emotion. He with Love, in fire and blood.
There are no time to farewell for Russia’s Tsar.  

And we don't know Russia and the Russian Tsar
never did lie to each other.

(Because there’s history, and then there’s art, patterns rotate.)
Regarding the Repin’s “Ivan the Terrible, we look at the Patterns in the theme of modernity
Twenty-four years’ marriage certificate released today
Mirrors cracked, tragedy lives where apathies traces.
We, create only a smaller voice than
the angels, have crouched hopes in   

We, A Mountain, An Ocean, or at A Journey
Gazing sky, we see no woman and children play

Tears which she planted in a frozen hut are exposed
The tears are saved and we have vases of sorrow drink 

Unfairness imprisoned herself inside this cage
The sorrow that was building transforms rage

And fire within us naturally grow

We, A Mountain, An Ocean, or at A Journey

The Truth, The Sun and all about her fairness right
Armed for slaughter, her mouths spilling words
Mountains echo as we choke on an ocean of sorrow

An end with hopes is what we patiently await.
Note: For a chained woman who been human trafficked
in China.
Powering whisker's tense, the unfurled orange;
teethed with nature's rosy armament.

Brother Tiger sniffs. burning nose
  whispers of passion
  with breaths of love.

More than two million years under human life
And she knows more than you, a white milliner
roses bloom
rose is a dove.

Brother Tiger gazes off into the East
Rose smiling, rose laughing,
Roses are searching for proud preys

Heaving breaths
dynamic, catlike stealth.

    Heartbeat’s thunder
****** shadows hide.

She sends him a fairy-white rosebud: 
“Hey Love, let’s off to search again for spring…"
"come home safe, Brother Tiger: Don't be feared"

Chant and roar along please
A kiss of desire on the lips.
Chant for Love,  a Tiger year's wish: a white milliner
roses bloom
rose is a dove.
Haiku  ( choral tunes )

Sun sings in morning  .  .  .
Music of light starts each day,
  .  .  .  Rainbow horse joining in.

Haiku  ( raiments )

Sun-shower dressed tree,
Rain left bright silver jewels,
  .  .  .  Beads on evergreen.

Haiku  (Invisible Poo)

Wild horse yawing  .  .  .
Fine art pieces we all see,
  .  .  .  No poo but winds with green.

Haiku (Puzzles)

Mineral, igneous, shale
Solitary movement.

Tense laptop, delight lunch table,
they swings from time capsules.  

Of the depths, in the quiet, in the white of the winterland

When nothing made a sound,
 Not a mouse, nor an Elk

Not a deer, or a fox, or an owl
But a froster painting

Squeezed into my childhoods window.
“No weapon that is formed against thee shall prosper;
and every tongue that shall rise against thee in judgment thou shalt condemn.
This is the heritage of the servants of the LORD,
and their righteousness is of me, saith the LORD.” 
                    ———— Isaiah 54 17 KJV

"This was not an impulsive act." she said
Snowy tears heated by burning gun fires.
"This isn't even a close call” Count it
Once more: how many Angels are falling?

And at this moment ominous cloudy pressed world
And it arises wondrous sorrow
And crying sentence, roaring-high
As grey as ghastliness

Through the drifts the chaotic vibrates
Loud call without sounds
Nor action of men nor beasts we ken—
The gunfire was all within and between

The angers was here, the shots were there,
And the gunshot was not for bonfire night
It busted and roared, and chapped and howled
Likewise, a rumble thunder was all around.

We all sat in the corner of darkness 
Stop pray, everyone try to shout
“You who lost” the boy screamed
His voice ignited the midnight ballad,

An unexpected early Christmas chorus
Isn’t justice God upon the heaven
But her son blinked his red eyes again
As she touched his wounded soul

"This isn't even a close call’ she whispered
We ought to kiss Uranus at night sky
Where we danced in better cheer
Where the morns haves no tearing fear
the above Ballad format poem is based on the most recent tragic gunfire event, Michigan school shooting…
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