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Butch Decatoria Jul 2021
Waif’s diluted dream submarine:

A sleeping dragon’s cloud, bleeding white, weeping blues,

Taming beasts with brush stroke of liquid hues;

Efferent pastels to demure flower with wet elation’s

Revered soft pining of colorful jubilation,

Canvas of new, on blind white fields

Of untouched imagination, whispers, bends.

Longingly the colors bleed, the heart ascends.

On painter’s opus--deeper seas, the vivid soul’s

Recollection - rain drop splashes of heaven.

Silken gossamer dreams of love, there & then.
Revised edit.
Kawsu Sanneh Mar 2020
Behind the scenes! I saw life at flicking fractured
Where ultimate livelihood was freeze and captured
Where dispirited Soul are Helpless
Where her routine of hopes are surmise

I saw feeble frivolous panther apart
Daunting anti corruptions depart
No watchful wary to assist
From their flaws they desist

Oh! What a bleakly bone of us
Why we ain't nothing but a thang?
There, they thought we are not anything
Shall i shake hands with the Democrats

At millions thee heartbeats
I breathe the stinking sensation of sadness,
As efferent emotions flows
Thru highly elevated arteries to capillaries.

There setting on the edge of one's seat.
When shall we wake her Sleeping Mine?
When shall her roar be featly dine
When shall she dive matters without threat.

When shall her daily headaches be heal
What can we concealed without laughter at peril
Our thoughts, our mental illness at oceans
We have fight but our foughten freedom at the oceans

Behind the scenes
I'm seeing wariness of Darkness alarming
I'm still touching the roughest depth of fierce
As we trace the hardest parts of the jungle.

At bounded bypass of gastric were splints
Everything was cleanly clear from the truth TV
Nothing can ever be hiding from the plaint
Even the sparking bullet of The Champion TV

Were shall our barking voice last
Shall we woefully wrath at exile
Fear no more, at last, the past
Worrisome inevitably wine the tactile  

The valor of shame shall be color
There they shine to sin
There shall we mourns at min
As those dreamed were damply ****! At vapor I
Butch Decatoria Jul 2020
Weeping waifs’ diluted diary

A sleeping dragon’s cloud, bleeding soft blues

Taming beasts with brush and stroke of hues.

Efferent pastels to demure flower with wet elation’s

Revered soft pining of colorful jubilation,

Canvas of new, on blind white fields

Of untouched imagination, whispers, bends.

Longingly the colors bleed, the heart ascends.

On painter’s opus--deeper seas, the vivid soul’s

Recollection, rain drops, splash of heaven.

Silken gossamer dreams of us there & then.
Revised

— The End —