I dropped the bomb today;

When I fell for the ruse,
when I cheered for the demise
of my enemy.

I dropped the bomb today;

When I swallowed the
horse pill that made me feel so
powerful,

when I believed the world
could be made right
with a little push and shove.

How that bomb blew;

and I saw all the pieces
of my humanity hover
over me like a pale and dying
rainbow.

and the brutality of
apes
disguised as men
read me their broken
song.

and I knew the chorus.

and the bombs they fall,
and
the candy rots,

the pageantry of
fiery tears and
ravaged dreams,

like a ******* upending
the sky,

this poor little bomb
I gave so much
attention to,
was my
poor little
hope
that
destruction was only
a momentary lapse,
and
not a
feature of
my
being.

Harsh Sun throws our
Shadows sharp against
Flagstones.

Beside the Priory wall,
Brought low by Henrys' Hammer the
Abbott lies, long gone.

Just we two, Now, in
Silhouette-

Your walking stick tapping a
Military Tattoo,
My hat of Panamanian straw
To delineate our presence.

O History-
Goodbye

Surely the New,
Loosened from past embrace

Shall see lovely flowers linger
Just for this Sunny Day

~
Refraction
Love passes through
And changes
Direction
Let it hold sway
The heart leans toward catastrophe
In the blue headlights
Of parenthood
Mom and dad
Suspended from a pivot
Their offspring
Asleep on a sunbeam
~

One can only give
what one has

Be it love
or
Be it hate.

Does not the sun
that softens the wax
turn on the clay
to make it hard ?

A summer wind whips through the air and the trees
Lightning dabbles the sky like a quick paint brush
It’s stunning
Tree limbs bend as the wind moves through them
Like a dance
The sky lightens up from the electric charge moving through
The air fills with the sound of thunder
It’s pounding a rhythm
A summer storm is fast approaching
Playing the wind chimes outside like a musical instrument
As they clang back and forth to the rhythm of the wind
Hold on
It’s coming

Have you ever seen a pair of Nine West Folowe Pumps in Red Blooms Floral - or ever held a feathery pair? They offer the pure pleasure of perfection.

You can see them popping up lately, in streetwear silhouette, matched with Dolce & Gabbana’s floral-print leggings, making a duet of blooms—petal upon petal, like a garden in motion, or paired with the new, high-waisted barrel leg jeans, lending a flash of elegance, a bright flourish against dull denim.

They’re visions, wrought as if by the hand of Michelangelo, who once from marble freed David’s pose, or da Vinci, whose brush summoned the Mona Lisa’s secret smile.

In form, they’re d’Orsay cut, sporting curves as deliberate as the Sistine vaults arch. The stiletto heels rise with the ambition of a cathedral’s spire - neither too proud nor too meek, but balanced, like the symmetry of a butterfly’s painted wings.

Upon their surface, blood red blooms unfurl - petals as vivid as spring’s first flush - each blossom a testament to an artist’s hand, in riots of color and romance that dance with the same spirit as a flowerbed at dawn.

No flaws mar their making: the stitchings are true, the fits precise—as if tailored by the muses themselves. Each pair offers its own unique foliations, bespeaking the freedom of a craftsman’s careful art.

Lastly, of course, they’re marvels of harmonious function, lightly cradling and lifting each step - comfort and glamour aren’t adversaries here, but partners in making each step a sonnet and each stride an artist's brushstroke.

Now, maybe you aren’t into fashion - perhaps you’re a male - oh, poor you, I’m sorry, but maybe, just maybe, in times of chaos, you long for the pleasure of inexpensive perfection.
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Songs for this:
Glamour Girl by Louie Austen
This is what falling in love feels like by JVKE