Yesterday I was given the document
To get the air ticket issued
From the airline office
For my return home,
Still a couple of months are
Left before I could see the
Native soil where
I left a small plant to grow
To be raised by an affectionate heart
And disciplined hands
The plant is trying to touch the sky,
Selfless, now he prepares for
His homeward journey
Packing the scattered feelings
In a suitcase, putting the packets
Of cheese and cappuccino instant coffee
Three-in-one, the daughter, the mother and the father;
The sweet sugar, the milk of kindness
And the tough brown granules, refreshingly stimulating
By the mere presence -
All mixed in one; powdery, emitting aroma around
The small beautiful flower in a *** in
The small apartment in Mumbai,
Where the sea beckons the sun
To meet above as clouds
To rain on the plant whose leaves
For a photosynthetic feel
Of the green color to grow and glow
The plant standing  near the window talks to birds
When the birds ask her, "What you want from the sun,
Beautiful dresses, shoes, toys, cookies and candies?"
The plant replies, "I want my dad."
"I want my dad to be with me
And share as the sun shares
The rays for the vigor of the earth."
"I do not want anything else
But his presence like the sun."

i am not your type? i'm no prince charming, i don't seem dashing
but i could be a charmander that can always re-lights our passion
i could make all your enemies writhe and burn
or the one that keeps your soul and body warm

drag your feet across the carpet,
i'll make your hair stand on end
i can be electric
fill your head with sparks

I'd be a rock type to you, for such a phenomenon
I'd be a boldore person that you could lean on.
I will anchor you down from thoughts of those with moodyness
And envy of my partner who's so pulchritudinous.

I could be photosynthetic, eat a mouthful of dirt for you
I'd go green with envy over any other lover
Let me be your grass type, I could be your ****
(Or just let me deScyther your thoughts)

I could be your faucet let your feelings flow through me
And I will sink every krabby memory you rue. See,
Can be emotional too, I could drown you in thought.
I could be your water type, without me you'll rot.

There will never be a reason to run away
I will always find how to give you a sunny day
It isn't unknown, to succeed, I will always find the words
I could be- wait you mean you don't like nerds?

[sweet pungent synthesis]
always with dank hysterical women demonstrating the distilled liquid elixir of their many years in isolation.
they are the nitrogen-rich followers of an ultraviolet shrine, such is
a photosynthetic life-form, reacting/enacting/enhancing.
they reach for holes in the moon &
on four-legged fumes carbonize seeds into sons and daughters. birth/
life.
all flowers ache forth to display color and/or
their varietals of hairy oil content.
to dip psychotropics, thus the worship of brain frequency and light.
fresh progress,
the sugar crystal compounds impacting, intact, and swollen.
trichomes, like huddled little masses of grandbabies bowed upon the ridge.
she drips
in dance and derives her form from properties plucked by time,
by moms, and pops.
to discover is to find purity in a moment.
pure travel/ pure
death.
this growing force,
this apparition of sound within me. organics.
organisms bound by great beauty and failure.
sense not the vivid panic, or the shock of last black, but hold true
to an inner joyous/outer motionous, tessellation that is, this
fluttering of us.
us suit of hearts.
suit of leaves.
the fusion of two bodies far beyond substantial pressure.

there is a fire, somewhere.
the sun/sun making mad love to the mother earth like hey.
hey to the water,
hey to the waves,
           & all bits below.

            endless mad love.

& electric, sing the youth.
swung the tooth of photosynthetic children trickling like tributaries
into/onto/toward all worldly tufts.
prisoners of the wild.
prisoners of the city, yet swords of something like the heart.
           like an amber ale popped spare
& nowhere but up,
baby.

old cassette-tape
as bottleneck netting. this is
stellar
fishing.

            who’s wet khakis?

mine.

visitors from the great stars and lush.
tall nettle, tall tent-
city &
popping sap campfires. acid-
dropped and cooler cocked.
rekindle this
                bliss,
                cosmos.

I live alone
in a room
my only friend
a rock plant.

A vase made of sighs,
converts **** non-audible AIs
to an unknown hymn,
replaces a half broken arm.

or was that a dream
during a harvest time?
or was that a gift
from a dear one?

I live alone
beside a window under skies
in a vase
made of colorful spots
my only friend
a girl
meditates in the room somewhere.

She, my sole flower
is a shape of a pink heart.
Her subtle transparent edge
glows my petal of gleam,
filters a beam,
and makes a rainbow kite.

My leaves, center her single dream,
carry a code of a parabolic green.

At dawn, she sings a love song,
invites all the blues of skies.
At dusk, she migrates them towards tones of nights.
A dot sinks within the brightests of stars
and finally
into my heart of hearts.

She collects then pure droplets
from a precipitating river - crossing unknown realms
in which of each
every season
a silver moon blossoms
to reflect a blue-green star,
she ultimately waits for:

‘That one!’ she shouts
deepening her pinks,
beating rapidly,
shaking my photosynthetic organs
‘There... we come from!
from the dancing, shapeshifter one!’


She, my only friend is a dreamer for none.
A dream of dreams about an unknown realm.
A girl with big words,
‘Someday’ she says ‘Someday,
when we be one as a timeless time but
I hold a key of Now from you for now
as much as I am of you,
Love will be a technology then for all - as is
then we be of love and One’.

‘but for now’ I say ‘for now’
‘at least, be my only one’
and I dream…
dream about a shape of the moment of that very someday
when she finally understands
and ‘yes that blessed someday’ I say,
and as usual nod and tune my stem.

My Temperament by ©Nikki R.

My temperament is like the warmth of a summer's day
My smile illuminates and shines through clouds as the trees soak up all the photosynthetic rays.

It takes more than a storm to rattle me
I will not be moved by people who fail to see the iridescent beauty that is within me.

My temperament can be like the oceans and the seas.  
Don't think I'm incapable of rising with the tide to defend my pride.

My temperament can be like a raging storm or a gentle rain shower that quenches the thirst of spring flowers.

My temperament.  It is what defines me.
It is my temperament. So, don't you dare judge me.

My temperament is Me and I AM SHE!

#poetry #poem #poet #spokenword #womeninpoetry #author #IAMSHE

© 2016 Nikki R.

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if you grow a plant hoping for a fruitful return you will be disappointed.
water it for nourishment, care for it to see it flourish.
if you grow a plant hoping for a fruitful return you will be disappointed.
the harvest will be more bitter than expected,
but the fruits of labour always yield sweeter results.

leaving
home alone
cheap
*****
liquor
dope sick but
I'm sicker than what
star stickers could fix

it's made me
a motley collage
of a hodge podge
apogee sentenced to be
hanged from the ceiling
or on the wall in a
cheaper motel hallway.

this is in no way an apology.

what the **** are we doing here?

getting stupid numb
playin dumb &
faking it, making noise
to fill a synchronized void
it's feeding itself,
it's eating itself

photosynthetic autophagy

lovely little lamb
lost cause long shot
breaking the bottles
for succumbing to
their own poison

but smashing the glass
don't quiet the voices,
it just makes them laugh.

peace love
*** drugs
bubblegum baby in
a neon pink bikini

a tragic act.

houdini chasing
rabbits & red dragons
to wonderland
under the tophat
he huffs his magic
from a plastic bag

- escape artistry.

carved from bone
covered in leaves
drinking veins.

darkhearted
hollow-eyed & starving
***** & sparkly
snarky harpy barking
senseless malarky.
she's pretty garbage.

beautiful.

just plain
*******
beautiful.

Every time I gaze upon you,
The sun rises and my heart starts.
Turning the ignition, ready to roll
Blazing down the road after you,
Knowing I cannot keep up with you.
But my mind stays on you
Every second thinks of you.

Yet when the clouds take the sunshine away
I feel hurt, unloved, and alone.
Deprived of this photosynthetic warmth
And ripped into the clutches of depression.
When the eclipse is done, I'm relieved.
I see my sunshine who teaches me much
About the love I pursue every day.

You've become a living segment of me,
Providing life force for survival or my heart.
The very single love you radiate
Warms me to think of you time and time again.
But if you ever fade from the skies,
I'll lose my warmth and be struck down.
The the death spawning frozen hell of sadness.

Then I lose sight of you until time.
I stop and wait for you again, hoping,
That I picked the right star to chase,
Before I never knew what I was chasing,
Or why I could never stop looking for you.
Now I know you and your brilliant radiance
Comprehending to never give way.

Taking some time to think and sit
When all the world is in a fit
I came out today to soak up the sun
******* my feet, their cages came undone
I sat in the cool grass letting the time pass
Winter is nearly over and
The snow no longer blankets the earth
But a clover blanket lasts
The birds today are busy, but so is the grass
This singular blade so still and quiet
Working, taking in the sun
A creation all too unsung
This photosynthetic piece of wonder
Without you, my life would be asunder

Right now I'm sitting on the verge of a hill and I can't even spare a blink. They are screening some movie about how autumn makes the saddest orange leaf to leave its tree and the tears are threatening to leave my eyes but I wont let them this time. Not because I am with my entire group of ant friends and they will drown with my enormous tears. Not because you have teared me apart to freaking pieces and you still want to burn the bitter rests, but because you don't deserve them, not even the slightest approximation of tear molecule coming from me (or whichever other pine tree you have made feel this way).

You made me feel as wonderful as a whole tree green from the spring ******, just to drop me to my lowest as the same tree at the winter ******, and that is not fair. I opened up my rib cage and let you explore every inch of the inner working of my photosynthetic organism and you doubted if I was real because I pumped blood. I could made light turn into different forms of art and you could only make my art turn into blood coming down my branches and trunk like the rain drops that fell between the leafs that laid perfectly in my hair, shaking my whole system, tearing my trunk apart.

My branches itches and my leafs claim to be attacked, and my wrists are ready to be destroyed and ridiculized.
But i won't, i won't, i won't.
Or at least I'm trying not to.

My plant is alive.
Her vibrant green leaves stretch towards the sun--
tanning like a ******* a beach.

The soil that once betrayed her
now befriends her and helps her flourish.
The warmth from the window
cradles each small limb
down to her roots.
Photosynthetic joy overcomes her.
Encompassed by his love--
growing stronger each and
every day.

Spring is drawing near, and I am glad
I left my window open
so the vernal light could drift in.
The rain and wind that hardened her
did not stop her
from rising up again.
Oh, how time has eased her pain.

No, the cold didn't agree with her,
but it'll take more than that to **** her.
The broken leaves that fell to her feet
now serve as a reminder of what she once was.
She's not so lonely anymore,
for he smiles at her and
knows she can only grow more.

Hubris (from ancient Greek ὕβρις) describes a personality quality of extreme or foolish pride or dangerous overconfidence, often in combination with arrogance.

                           ~~~

on the subject of paper thin strings
i'm tied, we're tied, you're tired
of being ******* to posts made out of stainless, painless steel.
ironically trying to sing your problems to the ashtray,
unironically trying to run, run, run away...
this post weighs me down
spins me around a thousand million times
until we forget that we've been dancing by ourselves for quite a while,
because there's never been another princess like me
except she wears the same crown every other princess does,
and she still sits at the bottom of the stairs and cries every night;
no white unicorn, no black dove.
but to all the princesses that wear top hats or silken kitten ears
you too are paper thin and water thick.
our strings are all the same:
Zeus himself saw to them being made of underfed dreams,
un-photosynthetic flowers that grew out of expectations in some genie's head.
so, where's your conclusion?
we all suffer from hubris.
we all survived the tsunami just to die in the ship wreckage
and suffocate in the debris.
we're all weak, and meekly making our ways along
              these stupid paper thin strings
attached to a post made out of
              stainless, painless steel

There's a voice I long to hear.
I want to be able
    to soak up its words
        like some photosynthetic freak of nature.
But I'm sitting at the back of this bus.
    And all I can see is...

Awaken from a glimpse of something horrific.
Something that I can't yet understand.
    Perhaps too soon.
    Perhaps too late...

For now, I try to make sense
    of the tangled mess of highway
    perpetually stuck in rush hour
    inside my head.

So I speed on
    towards the intersection
        still terrified
        still helpless
        still towards you

Towers above flattened below
Flames lick ebony carapace
interlocking geometry
Electric blue static
crawling across piezoelectric photosynthetic membrane
sleep food water are not needs
Limbs extending shifting
Testing tasting chemical ingredients
Molecular compositional analysis
Instantly wirelessly facelessly mechanically organically claytronically nanomechanically
Solid as a rock
Light as air
Harder than diamond
Softer than fur
Integrate
Disintegrate
See atoms and distant stars with naked eye unfurled across a cosmos laid bare by
Sponsored spectrum systems
weaponized unwoundable willpower
Invisible elastic lightning bolts
Careening onto blistered skies
Of a forseen absolute zero future

Money is the Root of all evil.
Though it don’t grow on Trees.
But the Trees make paper, bank Branches and Leaves.
It’s all financial agriculture with some limited Seeds.

Money is like Grass, much greener on the other side.
And when you mow the lawn all the snakes do surface.
Though the paper is green it’s not photosynthetic, it can’t make its own food and you can’t eat without it.    

So is this human nature or is it Money’s Nature ?

She's made of sunshine
and I'd never forget the first time
I saw her shine, she illuminates
everything, even me.

I feel warm around her
and when she hold me
I'm a kaleidoscope of sunshine,
I hope I never forget.

The most beautiful part:
I know I can live without her
I'll be good, but I prefer my sun close
now that I have a photosynthetic heart.

The sun kissed the day,
tangerine smooches,
creating ocean breezes,
aquamarine reflections.

Capped white and reflecting,
as she climbed in the sky,
golden light bringing life,
from far away space.

Creating photosynthetic greens,
and bipedal dreams,
roaming and evolving,
yet destroying.

Mother nature's mistake.
trust.
trust for her creations,
to take care of her.

You were the chocolate sprinkles on my soft serve.

Burrowing into my chest like a sandcrab melting through saltwater and ocean city sand.

Fading into my body, until we became one gooey sticky sweet mess.

Such a beautiful summertime massacre.

I prefer the mountains in June. A cool evergreen breeze sighing through my buzzcut season.

This is what true royalty feels like, to sleep forever under the pines. A place we wanted to grow.

I shaved my head because I’m not yours anymore. Or theirs. I belong to my own shallow grave. So please, do not call me princess.

Disney did not forget to write my story, he was too busy creating women no one would ever receive.

My life has never gone according to plan, stopped praying before bed for my fairytale to fruition.

I created myself. A handsome hairless heroine. The tallest trunk at the peak.

Only faith I have left is in my own photosynthetic cells.

Feeling still a lingering winter. SPF cannot protect me from my own emotions.

I don’t need it to anymore.

Looking down at you from miles away like that man from lilo and stitch.

Sunburnt and confused.

Black sprinkles and ants slow dance on the concrete in my giant sugary shadow.

I wonder do the ***** still bury their troubles? I haven’t been to the beach in years.

You haven’t considered these sappy limbs a place to call home since then.

I always have and I always will.

I was having a dialog
with my inner shock collar
a present from my Fairy Godmother
who had trimmed the hedge
into leafy mammals with teeth
ready to protect the perimeter
and as sure as incisors segue to molars
they tore loose from their leashes
and got into a backwoods shootout
with my photosynthetic gene pool
naturally they haven't told me yet
if this is a suicide mission
or a symphony of implications
making up for the rib dog years
darkness fell like tank treads
Fairy Godmother had a gun to my head
the phone rang louder than usual
it was my mob connected uncle
Benny Tarfingers from Roofer's Local 911
we'll be happy to fix your little problem
for a small consideration went the voice
I gladly gave them both eyes
they now see what I see
so the joke was on them ha ha
Benny wanted me to tell all of you
hep cats and hepatic kittens
that the Devil made him do it
that's is precisely why he's the Devil
faith can blind God bless you
my shock collar jolted the **** out of me
for overlooking far too many clues
I caught on quick and started screaming
something between 110 and 220
since all is a multiply indexed display
and I had to stop censoring my perceptions
well that diagram got him mad
so I followed with a quick trim
our **** eaters were an ineluctable force
seemed to do the trick
playback being the payback
and burnt the collar to a crisp
requiring a rapid tactical egress
wrapped in the fabled Cloak of Naiveté
good work went FGM AKA Godzilla
you must have strayed far to find this
the solution is to try comparing notes
with people who compare notes
and a pleasant sentimental mood
settled over the land

From "Engine of Didactic Beauty" available on Amazon