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MonsterInsideMe Dec 2014
at nightfall the storm comes
which gives the beautiful blanket
time to streanghten and rebuild itself
for the hurricans of the next day
the city blossoms yet again
continuing to cause more destruction upon the blanket
which has become solid and more breath taking over time
chipping away slowly
blow by blow
piece by piece
tear by tear
the blanket dies
as the blanket is chipped away
slowly and painfully
the city feels no remorse or sorrow
night falls over the world
over the heart of the blanket
as tthe blanket is no more
its youth and beauty
dead
along with the blanket
MonsterInsideMe Aug 2015
I never wanted the fairy tail wedding
until I met you
suddenly it was the gorgeous wedding on the beach
a beatiful white gown that flowed like the waves of the ocean
you at the end of the white carpet
my king waiting anxiously to share the kiss of our new begining
but just as the wind,
our plans were blown away by the hurricans of our past and present
and in a matter of days we were forced back into reality
the fairy tail yanked right out of our hands
now we're trapped,
forced to have to walk through the cruel world,yet again
the dove with the permanetely clipped wings
I still look forward to our wedding more than anything....even though I know it wont be like we planned
Light as a feather, I'll make it through stormy breaths
Hurricans, and peaks that are high, I can pertinently relate
The pretending to make haste from the already broken place
Landing up in edifices of emotions and eyes that are windows, now looking like hunger
Yenson Sep 2023
Under the burning skies
in the crucible of Eden's earth
where lions run the tundra and rhinos horn homage
from harmattan to hurricans
The sons of the land speaks nature to nature
and knows to read the lay of the land
in mind body and spirit from birth to Creators doors
the eyes of soul leads in reverence
And Namaste sways
and the sages hold that none triggers the known unknowns
for yester has been laid in yester
and only its honey and dulcet hues revisits
The unwounded mind needs not find poison barbs
he knows the armless archers
will only swallow their own venom in spitting
We know the lay of the land
and our trodden paths had been conquered and stepped on
blunted thorns are brackens for fires
we do not dread their ashes
“If you pick up one end of the stick you also pick up the other.”


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— The End —