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Third Eye Candy Oct 2011
cyclones are cellophane
saran raptures, and
gale forced smiles in the rain    
that comes after a dead-end starts
with a grave intuition.

Out of the blue,
a sky you knew would be safe
as sun-strokes-
of genius,
that love had
a heart...
you found

That's you
wishing where stars
don't fall
they just hang
in the black hole
EP Mason Jan 2014
Breezes no longer blow
through my country palace
or in the eyes which I love

But great turbulent winds
cascade through my soul
and suffocate me with their smoke
and choke me with their words
with their hands which I love

And now
now that the cyclones of you
have broken every piece of me
all I can do is whisper my words so solemnly

I am now but a wisp of smoke because of you.
© Erin Mason 2014
s y k Nov 2018
Earth to Adam's ale.

As the ripples trace my skin,
the coiling cyclones of my crown
lull with my sinking breath.

The deepness of the blue
guarantees my sanctuary.

I swim and swim until I am free.
I've always had this almost supernatural connection to water. I adore it with all my heart. Whether it's the sea or a pool, I'm instantly at peace when I'm near it. The only time I can be truly happy is when I'm swimming. I live by the sea, my ancestors were pearl divers, water carriers, coast guards.. the list is endless. Even my name is derived from water. It just seems like a sign that it's where I belong.
Paul Butters Mar 2011
I see a pattern Everywhere:
Circles and globes (three dimensional circles);
Shiny rings of fire.
Countless manifestations of this same shape.

Star-spangled galaxies wheeling through the sky:
That half-globe dome.
Earth, in circular orbit (more or less) around the Sun,
Escorted by the Moon.

Days give way to seasons,
Repeating every year.
Groundhog Days becoming
Groundhog Creations

The list seems endless:
Hopkins’ dapples,
Planets, craters, cyclones, anti-cyclones, sea currents,
*****, apples, oranges, nuts, potatoes,
Teardrops, heads, faces, eyes, mouths,

Coins, bin lids, and plates;
Sunflowers, daisies, pansies,
Rings of mushrooms,
Circling birds of prey,
A cat curled in a circle,
Like a foetus.

Life as we know it
Is a circle
And a cycle too.
Birth, Death, Blossom, Wilt.
Clock-faced Time itself.

Eternity might be a circle,
Infinity the same.
Maybe even God,
Some way.

Perhaps we still are building God,
For Him or Her to travel back through time
Like Doctor Who
To Create The Big Bang,
And form this expanding Universe,
Thus taking us full circle.

Or maybe the Universe will fold back in upon itself,
Producing yet one more Big Bang,
In an endless cycle,
Of Big Bangs,
Amongst this ever circling

Paul Butters

© PB, 14th February, 2011 at 14.00, in Humberside.
© PB, 14th February, 2011 at 14.00, in Humberside.
Paul Hansford Jan 2016
The oxygen that we breathe
every minute of every day
is not lost
but shared

If we are in the same room –
or sealed hermetically for hours
in the cabin of a plane –
we breathe continuously
the same air,
the oxygen goes from me to you
and back again.

But air currents,
prevailing winds,
the jet stream,
cyclones and anti-cyclones,
all move the atmosphere further
and further still,
so that even if we are
on opposite sides of the globe,
separated by oceans,
it is a statistical certainty
that I still breathe in
atoms of oxygen
that were once

Do they carry your thoughts,
your feelings,
your poetry to me,
or mine to you?
Who can say?
I can but hope it,
as I thank you
for keeping me alive.
rhiannon Sep 2018
Disturbances, however hard they try,
Will always be horrifying.
Now alarming is just the thing,
To get me wondering if disturbances are atrocious.

The ramp is not nonthermal!
the ramp is exceptionally nonthermal.
A ramp is hot. a ramp is nonthermal,
a ramp is caloric, however.

hardships are not lean!
hardships are exceptionally zoftig.
Do hardships make you shiver?
do they?

Don't belive that gales are big?
gales are little beyond belief.
Now unimportant is just the thing,
To get me wondering if gales are shrimpy.

I cannot help but stop and look at depressing tornadoes.
Do tornadoes make you shiver?
do they?

Cyclones, however hard they try,
Will always be traumatic.
Never forget the harmful and painful cyclones
Liv Sep 2014
you and i met with too much in common
and last time i checked,
two sad people
will rarely be happy together
we are cyclones, filled with emotion
destructive, powerful
and somehow beautiful.

amid the wreckage of destroyed cities
we destroyed ourselves
a big fight up in saturn causes cyclone activity in queensland and northern territory

you see ronnie biggs and ted bunny were having a quiet methane smoothie, in saturn

club rings, when they suddenly broke out in a fight, and this wasn’t just any fight, no, it caused

big cyclone activity in quuensland and northern territory and gold coast where my brother lives

has a bif of rough seas, and my dad is making sure that the cyclone doesn’t affect gold coast

and my brothers family, but ronnie biggs and ted bundy had no compassion, and really started

fighting with methane, which is causing the rough seas, and dad, is trying to keep the cyclone away

but, it looks like ted bunny and ronnie biggs are going to get their way, as they, poured methane all over

the saturn club rings, you see, what us cosmic sleepers must do, is alert australians living in these areas

to listen to authorities, and go to a safe place, for barry allan’s ploy to save this world, hopefully there won’t

be any casualties, and hopefully my brothers family will be safe, hopefully dad can save the gold coast

and keep his old family safe, it’ll be a hard job, you see ted bundy and ronnie biggs are still fighting, saying

let’s destroy the earth, let’s destroy australia first, let’s use methane to ruin the whole entire earth, you see

me as cronus is getting dad to help me keep the methane from forcing the cyclones to really **** people, and hopefully

nothing will be lost, but it will be ****** hard, because ted bunny and ronnie biggs are really ****** well *******

with everyone, as well as cronus, and knows how crocus’s current earth body is when storms come to cities his

brother or family lives in, decided to hopefully wreck cronus’s life, and his dad barry allan, is making sure he helps

cronus keep his younger son safe from this really fierce cyclone, i know i am going on and on saying the same thing

over and over, but this is a way, to bring all cyclone activity not to take too much control on queensland and northern territory

you see, ted bundy likes the idea of using methane to destroy the earth, to get crocus’s earth body, to SHUT UP, cause

you should listen to your voices when they said methane is a gas, and you can’t drink it, but you can fight it, and the methane

stopped dad from being a boy, but he says girls and boys are equal, and barry allan is fighting ted bundy and ronnie biggs

from having this cyclone get close to my brothers family, but ted bundy liked the idea of hurting the gold coast, and cause

problems for my brother, and barry allan and cronus are protecting the gold coast from a very fierce cyclone activity

and cronus and buddha YELLED OUT

UMMMMMMMMMM  STOP ted bundy and ronnie biggs from taking too much affect in cyclones in qld and northern territory

immmmmmmmmmm keep our family safe from this methane cyclone caused by ted bundy and ronnie biggs

ummmmmmmmmmm stop people swimming in dangerous waters, they will be doing what ted and ronnie want

you see, ronnie biggs and ted bundy are fighting each other, and dad and cronus who is me, are guarding anyone who is on the earth

making people too scared to not go in the water, ted bundy is enjoying people going in the water and so is ronnie biggs

because it makes what they are doing so very much right, and i tell ya i tell ya i tell ya, my father, is helping my previous life cronus



save it from the dreaded ronnie biggs and ted bundy, RIGHT NOW
Again life cycles to a clutter, ideas thought through

don't anymore seem as though,

even when expressed aloud and not within.

Maybe they're right,

my ignorance is only withholding wonders

I struggle to actually see.  

Hypocritically, I find importance in self enrichment

and observing from afar.

and yet even from a distance you feel so close.

Is this an evolution or is it just another mutation.

Obscure out of any cultural norm, I resonate

impairing those who hear my words.

This constant metamorphosis has left me staring in the mirror for

hours, searching for the presence of my subjected  form.


while I peer into the interworkings of my reflection

to observe what I actually see...

With all truth, it holds a boy,

an awkwardly timid boy.

Insecurely gazing back into the pupils

of his reality.

He's bellowing inside his

submerged mind.

Subconsciously Blurting:

"Do not turn back,  

their are cyclones that await.

And all that is required

to overcome this task

is to go forth without

pondering times long gone...

So here I am, engaulphed

in tidal winds.

I must break loose;

grow, starting from

Ormond Apr 2019
Her fine hands gentle
With lithe and spiny fingers
Of bone and fin.

Her eyes are opal,
Essence of emerald and topaz,
A hoard of treasure.

Her hair is sea gathering
And dances in the blue currents
Deadly as the sea snake.

Her skin is coral,
Made of mineral and sorcery,
A fatal beacon.

Her lips are urchin,
Set in a whirlpool of face,
A spiral of doom.

Her voice is dream,
Rocking the lost wrecked ships,
Ground into sand.

Her long tail is fable
Of paradise, beyond faraway seas,
Cyclones and waves.
Jake Walker Jul 2012
and there, carved into the oaken doors
of the Madhouse, in stark, lifelike detail,
three massive cyclones. side by side. 
They seemed to sway and beckon
as the door began to creak open.
"We'll be there soon," the Cyclones harshly whispered to me.
"We'll be along shortly, and then we'll rip apart and send you whirling along with 
everything you love. Send you whirling to the void, where everything wails and moans,
and nothing will ever rest in peace again"*


Time for the rain to shine,
ways for the moon to rhyme,
space for the gods to pine,
running through a madhouse with no way to stop.
Cane for the *** to chew,
slow when his eyes hit you,
rope when the hands push through,
skidding on wet floors on the way to the drop.

Slip to a diiff'rent side,
high on the wind to ride,
hope that the tree will hide,
stumbling up stairwells to get to the top.

Run as the jaws will snap,
swing when the wings won't flap,
streak when the soles do slap
Twilight is closing on the whirlwind's last crop.
fools, ,you see ted bunny and ronnie biggs are saying the fools have been trapped in my snowstorm

and in the category 3 cyclone marcia in queensland, nobody listens to the ploy of cronus and barry allan

even if they are trying to keep them safe, and ted bundy who flew around aistralia trying too make

marcia and lam, really ruin australia, and keep these americans trapped in snowy weather, keep kids from

learning, by closing the schools, and cronus with barry allan’s help, was trying to get people to rally together

to make everyone happy, and safe, we can’t save everyone, but we could ****** well try

and then ted bundy said heh heh the fools, thinking these waters are safe to swim in, but ted isn’t shy

he is evil enough to make people lose their lives, we must listen to authorities as opposed for doing the

right thing, you see they call this nature, i call it cosmic attack, a really fierce cosmic attack, nobody can

see the clear sky ahead, in order for people not dying from this sort of thing, and that is, don’t do stupid things

ronnie biggs also is making the category 3  cyclones marcia and lam and a terrible snowstorm in the states

you see these vicious killers are doing more harm here, than they did on earth, they are ruining families

from all over the place, and elvis presley cancelled his neptune concert, to make the jewish messiah daniel

who is his earth body, to think that he needs to start thinking of trying to save people from these terrible

snowstorms and category 3 cyclones, you see, he thinks he is forcing the cyclone probably, but we all know

that ronnie biggs and ted bundy are forcing them, i think this country concentrates too much in celebrating

the jewish messiah’s previous life, and making him sleep like a pack of rich arrogant *****, but even if he

wants to work anywhere, he wanted to get into library studies but instead of that, he is playing all over

the planets, singing elvis is a schizophrenic and everyone seems fine with that, but, instead of looking

at relief web. int, you should help us finish off ted bundy and ronnie biggs evil and cunning plan, to

force the dreadful end of the world, you know what i think, if people listen to lifeguards and not going

out to these fierce seas, the end of the world wouldn’t come, we must pray to buddha, that these people

are safe, so when marcia hits, they are not out there battling the cyclone caused by ronnie biggs and

ted bundy, please, buddha help, cronus ands barry allan battle these dreadful spirits, ,and make the

storm ease, there are a lot of snow trapping innocent americans and all ted bundy and ronnie biggs

can say is heh heh heh, these fools are falling right into my trap





ronnie biggs and ted bundy are sitting in saturn club rings saying foolish earthlings

they are falling right into my little trap
mûre Oct 2013
You were the greatest neuronal reorganization to ever happen,
of course I don't know who I am anymore.

What was plastic seems changed to stone in a gargoyle brain and beneath a microscope the shimmering glia spell out your name over and over in little green lights, fossilizing the neurons that say:


The earth has an edge. Nobody wants to fall off.

So call me Homer, because the gods themselves could not convince me my situation's a sphere there's far too much fear in this flattened plane that understands only primitive desires and just wants you near.

Everyone knows the romanced brain could be mistaken for a ******* addict's.

But perhaps if you look more closely into my eyes you will see my irises have turned stormy, that cyclones of energy are becoming patterns that scribble and scribble arcane suggestions for a new cartography. A new story. A new being.

Supplies needed:
One strong pencil.
Enough oxytocin to unlearn an addiction.

Enough optimism to overcome an affliction, my diction is code for the way you kissed me and it underlines every sentence like the way a voice rises when asking a question.

I have so many questions.

And even though the notion of who I will be when I am not you terrifies me, like Cathy and Heathcliff I will not be doomed to roam the moors, already I know there's endlessly more, and with or without you the best is yet to come. Just as they say. No, I don't know what's in store. But I think that's okay.

Turn golden, Grey Matter, light up 'til you burn.


A primitive attempt at beat poetry.
zebra Jun 2019
i fall and ascend in a sea    vantablack
spiral light
fire ghosts and ice
that cut the soul to pieces
like scissors
that split rabbits

industry of a hissing creation
polluted altar of sleeping lakes
and scythe
bludgeon and howitzer
prods of push and pull
in a grindhouse
necropolis of craters
scattering snake eggs and tumors

i am here born to you thin of bone
mother of catastrophes
on a colossal ball of scab and callous
that moves sonorous dazzling shapes
careening through
ephemera workhorse torches
of doom

you fill me with knots of terror
and desperate dreams of stairway wings
veils and glimmers
resolutions dissolving
petaled apertures of desire
and night whispers
in a spider web of sonic bulls

before undertows gravity
i was vibrant
but then i died into the rock ash of earth
they called it my birthday
my parents with party hats and balloons
blinked fetters
against nights of concrete and stone

i got deader still
until i was nothing
but an imagineless gob of mud and breath
an eye looking out
behind red nerve forest fires
and tears shook tambourines
down heavy lashes
cascaded fluttering  tassels  

i am born to you mother of senile seas
citadel of shattered glass
in a slate cube of cyclones
mute and screaming
my fate deep shock
encased in mausoleums led nautilus

blatting hells jaundiced shriek

Pluto conjunct Saturn
Fegger Nov 2010
Evolution complete:
I am faceless.
That, once recognizable,
Is disfigured and ugly;
And exudes the smell
Of gangrenous life.
Eyes of strangers, friends,
Horrified by my transformation,
Look beyond, toward safety.
My stare will consume them,
And labor them,
Into my hollow.
It is my soul,
Pure and discontent,
That cries for emancipation
And deliverance.
It is the cyclones
Of failures echoing,
Again and again,
Abrading my use,
Paring my value.
The dust in my palms,
Is the former me;
And even the breaths
Of God
Cannot reconstitute
This undead.
I resign,
To the solitary
That remains:
To free the soul
From its heinous captor;
To bait tranquility
With selfless mercy
Until the final drop
Dries unnoticed.
Copyright 2010, Fegger
Connor Apr 2015
Call delicate sirens of the working class!
half-*** minimum wage poverty line
subsidy sages hollow of materialism devils,
devoid of darkness internal fire strike rage
and hellion god bowels light flickering shallow men.
The rich men.
The truly poor men living in clouded manors on
Ignorance Avenue.

Delicate sirens not so poor after all,
not so empty or so full.
God is the prayer call
and siren droll
and *** roll-in-sleep afternoon shore-breeze faint of hope
approaching winter-fall showering divinity flowers the same material as Peter's scraggly beard while he coughs his angelic bronchitis wheezes, purifying the western air.
Peter is apostle
his snores are their own gospel
the doves in his dreams
will always be there.

The battle goes on
the bottle goes up
the rattle hollers out
the chatter not without.

Sirens call! Call with short breaths as
the world cyclones through universal woe.
Rosie Walker Mar 2015
Encase me in nature
smother me in leaves
let me flow with the river
hug me a tree
When mother comes calling
greet her embrace
immerse in her wisdom
universal grace
Yet, we exploit her
pillage her soils
feed from her *******
pollute her with spoils
Scarring her beauty
no thought for her care
t urning our backs
ignoring her tears
But a mother enraged
is a sight to behold
you should be afraid
if her love, she withholds
Her temper will fray
her might will unleash
call us to account
there will be no peace
Fire and brimstone
floods and high tides
eruptions and cyclones
oceans, acidified
The nature I love
the universe of dreams
who sung us a future
unravels before me
Ormond Feb 2013
Her fine hands are gentle
With lithe and spiny fingers
Of bone and fin.

Her eyes are opal,
Essence of emerald and topaz,
A hoard of treasure.

Her hair is sea gathering
And dances in the blue currents
Deadly as the sea snake.

Her skin is coral,
Made of mineral and sorcery,
A fatal beacon.

Her lips are urchin,
Set in a whirlpool of face,
A spiral of doom.

Her voice is dream,
Rocking the lost wrecked ships,
Ground into sand.

Her long tail is fable
Of paradise, beyond faraway seas,
Cyclones and waves.
Leslie Srajek Feb 2010
“I’m unraveling,” she said.  
“Where’s the thread?” he asked.  “I’ll pull it.”

Pull a thread and this dense fear
spins out and away into gales
like bits of flying paper
like cyclones
like breathlessness.

Then my life floats down
in a clean white line:
a declaration
a direction.
Exhaled, unraveled.
©Leslie Crowley Srajek 2010
Outside Words Sep 2018
My breath beat shallow at a chest of stone as I looked out
At all of our houses that seemed so small from whence I stood
The sky’s true and radiant blue, I discovered at this altitude
Cloud rings spiraled down, the sun beams reflected off my goggles -
And my arms felt stiff, strapped into wings of enchanted brass
     When all of a sudden a gust swept –
          Me from the tip of my ride with such haste!
          From a cloud boat I dropped and gasped for my life!
          Cyclones of wind paddled my body and blew back my hair…
From a tumble, to falling with such grace,
I soared with a smile over my tiny little city -
And yearned at the horizon in its majesty -
     This moment and its treasures I had stolen for me.
© Outside Words
The madness of money,
exploiting the human mind.
Never enough money,
never enough time.

The disasters of our time,
the result of natures resistance.
Rebelling against mankind,
Mother Nature can be persistent.

And while we watch the tide,
slowly go and rise,
we must remember, it won't be long,
till we are all gone.

Tornados and hurricanes,
wind whipping cyclones.
Heat waves and solar storms,
disrupting cell phones.

Landslides and flooding,
from torrential downpours.
Forrest fires and blackouts,
from ruthless lightening storms.

Some may say the sky is broken,
some may say the sky is crying.
This is natures rebellion,
Mother Nature is dying.

But our motive right now is money,
and nothing will stop our addiction.
We will pollute this world till the skies are black,
and when we do, there's no turning back.

Let the gaping hole in the ozone layer,
grow until it's big enough,
to burn our Earth down to the core,
till we are ashes, nothing more.

Mother Nature has sent her warnings,
Mother Nature, wish us goodbye.
Mother Nature will slowly die,
and nothing she does can change our minds...

We will destroy ourselves for money,
we will commit,
without knowing,
our own suicide.
Copyright Barry Pietrantonio
you see cronus and barry allan and buddha, has been battling the terrible forces

of cyclone marcia, which is caused by the cosmic fight of ted bundy and ronnie biggs

you see, brian allan was very tired, because he had to fight the terrible winds caused

by ted and ronnie, you see what happening is, kids and surfers and rock fishermen

and all sorts of the yobbos culture, have let ted bundy and ronnie biggs take full control

and ned kelly and the crazy ed gein, you see i just wanted to do tapestries, but, my eyes

were too tired, and i had to put power into these stupid people, who are doing all this

ya know rock fishing, and surfing, it’s herd to understand why, you see, at present i am

treated like a hooligan, but i am battling to keep the cyclones from really damaging the

earth, and there is some people stuck in an elevator, and kids near a poo,l, with high seas,

i know, it is a bit of excitement, but reality why are people allowing themselves to go out

and battle these evil spirits that caused this cyclone marcia, and elvis tried to keep these

evil spirits from killing with the powers of music, here goes

i wanna be, your teddy bear, you see i take out of my bag and cuddle you some more

i don’t wanna be a tiger, tigers play to rough, i don’t want to be a lion

the lion ain’t the type ya ought to love enough

i know you can be found sitting all alone

if you can’t come around, at least please telephone

don’t be cruel, just stop these spirits

i know it can be hard, but baby it it’s just you i am thinking of

and then elvis sang to ed gein ted bundy ronnie biggs and ned kelly

you guys are nothing but evil hound dogs, to trap these australians like this

you trap these australians thinking it’s fun to break the rules

you will never **** these people, no matter how stupid they are

you see these criminals can cause more problems, now they’re dead

ted bunny said, we are wrecking houses heh heh heh

we are forcing people to battle winds while surfing heh heh heh heh

the children caught near the rock pool, heh heh heh heh

people stuck in hotel elevator  heh heh heh heh

ted bundy said, i have everybody fooled,

then said he is glad he is dead, because nobody will believe in stories

ted bundy ronnie biggs ed gein and ned kelly making these cyclone victims

think it’s exciting to take the kids to look at the raging seas

yeah, ted bunny is loving every minute of this, every minute, every minute

and even the eye of ted bundy and ed gein looking at the queensland coast saying a loud

HEH HEH HEH HEH HEH HEH, foolish earthlings

cronus barry allan and buddha and athena, are pushing the cyclone away

but it’s hard to beat these evil spirits

Sjr1000 Apr 2016
Births and deaths
Debts and success
Floods and droughts
Cyclones and hurricanes
Earthquakes and tsunamis
Chaos and serenity

All in flux
Milling about
Constant movement
Constant din
Silence within
Raging against
the dry dry winds.

Another restless moment
in the universe
Stars are born
go cold and die
Galaxies collide
Black holes
no return
Super Novas
bring silence
to light years
eons wide

Another restless day
on the planet
in this our
moment of time
in this our place
in the universe.
Carl Hoek Feb 2013
I thought I had been cast out of the mud castle kingdom. Then one day it dawned on me, 28 miles per second would be enough to break through my own roaring and escape back into
over developed proxy and reach a small awareness.
enough, i thought, to overwhelm a wall of demons.

Guarded are their black glassy gates.
Then one day it happened.
Pam, crying chemical rainbow tears while looking at all of the big red blimps.
"now clouds" she said, "clouds should all be plastic and red." And with that her ankles turned to dust and started a fury of little cyclones. Outwards , outwards.
now she cant spell forwards. she can't count backwards, and every other time she blinks her eyes the retina won't flip the image. The world goes upside down and insideout.

I can't handle it.  
They all lied to her, told her the world was just level.
I am sleep now. I'm weak. Those big long brittle spider legs tapping at the pavement. Those ******* belladonna eyes and wormwood spire. Godamned, he bent the buildings out of shape. He could sink all the gondolas in Venice.
Ormond Jun 2012
Her fine hands are gentle
With lithe and spiny fingers
Of bone and fin.

Her eyes are opal,
Essence of emerald and topaz,
A hoard of treasure.

Her hair is sea gathering
And dances in the blue currents
Deadly as the sea snake.

Her skin is coral,
Made of mineral and sorcery,
A fatal beacon.

Her lips are urchin,
Set in a whirlpool of face,
A spiral of doom.

Her voice is dream,
Rocking the lost wrecked ships,
Ground into sand.

Her long tail is fable
Of paradise, beyond faraway seas,
Cyclones and waves.
Eileen Prunster Sep 2013
i did have
a man i didn't know
came up behind talking of queensland
and riding the surf in cyclones drunk
he looked wasted
he was beautiful and so ******* scary weird
it was surreal
yeah it was frightening
he was not though in retro
i was thinking within gates
he was ok
and benign
and not quite there
childlike and on the loose
although he was happy striding into the waves
wet jeans and laughing
and who can diss that
under the moon and stars
Ormond May 2013
Her fine hands are gentle
With lithe and spiny fingers
Of bone and fin.

Her eyes are opal,
Essence of emerald and topaz,
A hoard of treasure.

Her hair is sea gathering
And dances in the blue currents
Deadly as the sea snake.

Her skin is coral,
Made of mineral and sorcery,
A fatal beacon.

Her lips are urchin,
Set in a whirlpool of face,
A spiral of doom.

Her voice is dream,
Rocking the lost wrecked ships,
Ground into sand.

Her long tail is fable
Of paradise, beyond faraway seas,
Cyclones and waves.
Ormond Mar 2014
Her fine hands are gentle
With lithe and spiny fingers
Of bone and fin.

Her eyes are opal,
Essence of emerald and topaz,
A hoard of treasure.

Her hair is sea gathering
And dances in the blue currents
Deadly as the sea snake.

Her skin is coral,
Made of mineral and sorcery,
A fatal beacon.

Her lips are urchin,
Set in a whirlpool of face,
A spiral of doom.

Her voice is dream,
Rocking the lost wrecked ships,
Ground into sand.

Her long tail is fable
Of paradise, beyond faraway seas,
Cyclones and waves.
KDFr Jan 2019
I would've never imagined that I'd have you as my own
In my life there's been nothing but gray skies and cyclones.

Now you're the sunshine that chase the clouds away,
the gentle breeze that gives me peace on heated day.

My always;
my forever.
My climate, cause you don't switch up like the weather.

My day one, my woman,
my hype; my wife.
You're precisely my type.
Thank you for changing my life.
Dedicated to The Queen of my Heart
Amidst endless cyclones
I kept moving with
dreams in my eyes,

Without stopping
Without bending
Without tiring

I just kept walking
Always moving..

I heard voices
But I kept walking
To achieve my dreams

I moved forward
Unknown roads
Unknown twists & turns
Unknown crossroads
Unknown hillocks

To achieve the impossible
To set an example
Filled with positivity
  in my heart..
Telling always it's
Attitude that's important

I kept moving

Sparkle In Wisdom
Dec 2018
Ormond Nov 2013
Her fine hands are gentle
With lithe and spiny fingers
Of bone and fin.

Her eyes are opal,
Essence of emerald and topaz,
A hoard of treasure.

Her hair is sea gathering
And dances in the blue currents
Deadly as the sea snake.

Her skin is coral,
Made of mineral and sorcery,
A fatal beacon.

Her lips are urchin,
Set in a whirlpool of face,
A spiral of doom.

Her voice is dream,
Rocking the lost wrecked ships,
Ground into sand.

Her long tail is fable
Of paradise, beyond faraway seas,
Cyclones and waves.
S’il m’était donné de choisir, comme une dernière bouée de sauvetage, au faîte de ma déréliction endémique, entre le pinacle à la française à Fontainebleau et la géhenne à deux encablures de la tour de Pise, je choisirais assurément, sans l’ombre d’un doute, sans l’ombre d’une hésitation, sans un cillement d’yeux, le paradis des hardis réprouvés dans la géhenne toscane.

Géhenne pour géhenne s’il m’était donné de choisir comme compagnons de noble moisissure entre Marie Joseph Rose (1763-1814) et Marie-Louise (1778-1851), j’opterais aussi vite que l’éclair qui zèbre l’oeil ivre des cyclones autistes pour l’épouse d’Henri (1767-1820) aux détriments de la créole impératrice et pour le Grenadien plus que pour le Corse (1769-1821).

Entre la géhenne aux relents de sangliers épicés de gui des druides rôtissant sous les langues de flammes du bûcher de Jeanne la Pucelle (1412-1431) et celle aux humeurs de sang du cochon noir scarifié par Cécile Fatiman (1775-1883) épouse Pierrot (Jean Louis Michel Paul) (1761-1857) qui vécut plus que centenaire, permettez que je préfère un bail de cent et quelques douze ans à vol d’oiseau de Bwa Kayiman.

Sur mon échafaud ce n’est pas Louis Le Dernier l’ex-Seizième (1754-1793) et sa fleur de lys que je pleure mais Boukman Dutty (?- 1791), le Jamaïquain et son cou coupé cloué!

S’il m’était donné de choisir à l’heure de mon dernier mercredi des Cendres entre extrême-onction de poussière boréale aux parfums de lavande et de papier bible et viatique de poussière volcanique aux fumets de soufre et de bay-rhum, ce ne serait aucun sacrifice que de faire libation des tourments d’amour et de feu de cette boue vavalesque des Bains Jaunes car je suis né par la volonté des cyclones de cette poussière rouge et noire à la fois, et de cette poussière kako je ne sortirai que par la force des genèses des cyclones-baïonnettes.
Tommy Johnson Apr 2014
Earth quakes
Forrest fires
Tidal waves

In the misty morning
At the grievous mourning  

Oh spirit true
We need you

       -Tommy Johnson

— The End —