toukakouka Sep 2015
his stomach swelled, while his breath sped
from his mouth, sounds like city transport
freight train lungs
and mirror's weight,
and worth in love
body, decrepit
his eyes dilated under pale hospital light
his lungs, burning
lay stale and frigid; a hospital bed's height.
"we began wanting to be embraced
became unable to walk alone"
Leah Kathryn Aug 2017
The soft sence of peace, the scene of a descending sun.
A sunset signifies an end,
Yet also a beginning -
  New start, new change, new opportunity.

Gaze upon the sky spread before you like a canvas,
Watch as tinges of every colour paint themselves across it,
Each day a new masterpiece of new colour and new hope.
Soft watercolours of scarlet, rusty orange,  deep indigo, a new scene of enchanting allure.

Each halflight becoming a scene of soft dusk,
Illumination via the stars sprinkled across like tiny opals,
The moon reflecting gentle beams of an eerie, pale light.

Beautiful, yet only ever reminded me of you.
Here I am on the hedge,
Amidst the forest of doubt,
One who've sworn not to pledge,
Proudly wear my shroud.

There's night in my head
And smoke in my guts,
Nothing's clear to my mind,
Porcelain is my heart.

With a black tooth grin
Bear mysery crown
With my soul in the wind
And my faith in the ground.

Eyes - by chance fallen leaves
Under the bushes of eyebrows,
Fulvous brown and grass green
Hidden in the shrubs' shadows.

Dead pale skin covers me,
Brown ivy curls down my shoulders.
There's blue blood in my veins
And I greet you, beholder.

Childly mushy cheeks
Rubbed by claws of white,
Full of shudder twists
Hope to thrill your mind.

Preying on your smiles,
Drinking up your breaths.
Forgive me for a while
Lack of wings on my back.
Winter Moon

Beneath the shallow
Winter moon
i watch lowly
from distant hill

gray light paints
landscape
sublime
limited in its
pallet choice

lifeless trees
guard lifeless hills
reaching like skeletons
bony limbs

fingers
forearms
stretches forth
to pull the moon
from high aloft

bitter cold
gropes winter's
night
still as death
beneath a grave

snow and ice
shackles earth
in cold
shadows pale
from orbs
dim light

dancing slowly
overhead
disc it arches
through
blackened sky

shadows shrink
then elongate
again
sphere retreats
or' yonder ridge

once more moon
sleeps
in place is hid
until it awakes
to darkness' call
thomas Jun 25
on a beach roars a bonfire
on a midsummers night
in June.
the inferno is calm,
tossing sparks and smoke
into the clear night sky.
and the sparks turn to stars
as they drift upwards
into the twilight.
the fire, as it burns driftwood,
begins to change color
from orange, to an
ever so slight hint of sea green.
the green, highlighted with
pale blues and rich,
pastel yellows grows stronger,
more vibrant, until every flame
is a mosaic of the sea
and the grass.
fluttering in the wind, our
driftwood bonfire burns to the
colorful tune of the sea
and the vibrant sounds
of the reeds.
The natural you and what about him
The Zen  gold egg climber Prince
Got his "Godly" rinse of the hen
We always knew their way upon
our thinking "Jumping Jack Flash"
But to be the change the day single
let's be feasible naturally, we mingle
The Holy water medieval drinking
By the night call, something is moving
Like a creature not in human form

We need to meet our expectations
More spoken revelations and terms
Naturally, we were born to be told
we have the fire to move any force
Even when our bones are getting old
  That powerful love but someone is
watching us above

With higher hopes will make
it through lovesick she coughs
The Passageway like a click of her heels
Feeling the beauty but climbing high
Naturally being cool with her sigh
Or the carriage day vintage wine
Her lucky wheel

World’s are invitation the engagement,
The sweet words or the terms of endearment
Be the Higher lover up in the Prince bow to her
A need to get higher inside the
Castle what a love hustle like a stampede

The rampage turning the ancient pages
Rock and roll ages or the Gothic pale
Victorian beauty her name Judy
Sir page the Grand Marnier
or change of pace human race
The drink Moet                            
High Mighty King singing

Her heart shape ring beating

Fresh-cut or worn out smoke put out
Brighten her pleasure the rose repose
To be born  not a piece of paper torn
Like a Queen reborn

For love how its spoken not just
City Girl with her token for-God-sake
can you look through her
wing turned up she is curled up
in her new threads of sheets
eyes please she is not ready
to hear goodbyes to your beat
What do you read is she naturally
beautiful than or now

Her naturally glow lights up
The Shakespearian castle
   Two nature healers, not the
same as card dealers

  Butterflies the fireflies
Her love shape naturally
that's no lie

  It comes naturally to be loved


    More like homed bakes muffin _


Google the nature of things spoken but
they may not come
Please don't wait too long
Perhaps there is always someone
to copy your song


Be the climber love for who she is
Her vegetables her sensuality is quite
organically raw
She loves her side dish coleslaw

How nature made us in the womb
Naturally spoken things like her sub combo
This is a meditation we need a salvation to feel free and have our own wings to fly even if you get so close enough to realize the goodbye just climb higher in your spirit to live it
Humanity flourished the gardens,
IVs replenish dehydrated seeds. She dug
through soil, with carmelizing fingernails to gash
a flood of vapored veins, flowers wilted in twisted
beauty. She held onto bruising stems and curling leaves,
just to abandon a husk in undetected love. Its carcass left
in black and blue, burgundy residue slathers pale petals.
Jewels lay at the Dahlia's crest, beads of ruby sold at the
cost of swelling mischeif. She's a mistress to demons; slaves
to the halo, obeying life within silver wings, crafting a
prolonging Death.
All feedback is welcome!
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