I sleep in crimson velvet,
With sunken stars for eyes
And paint with ragged fingers
A new world on my thighs
Does the soil still tease my feet?
It’s impossible to tell
Amid the purple lemon trees
And the technicolour smell

I gargle chamomile
And grow flowers from my tongue
Poppies, basil, coriander
Nature waking in my lungs
I walk on broken bottles
And bleed comet dust that stings
Peach clouds, bluebells, lavender
All my universal things

I bloom along with nature’s fruit
So she can’t abandon me
I sway with all her precious plants
Like a boat returned to sea

And one day soon you're bound to know
Without a better plan
I’ll tempt the world to let me be
The unravelling of man.
mother nature's children
Aprajita Jul 8
Your roots is your foundation
Don't droop
Stand onto your roots
Believe in your your self, get rid of boundaries... Try to stand onto yourself and your knowledge, as I am also trying to.
Eli Hashaw May 2015
And the thorn said to the rose,
    "Why do you resent me so and pretend I don't exist when it is I who makes you the beautiful treasure you are?"
And the rose replies,
    "It is true people love to look at me and savor my perfume but had I not you thorns perhaps someone would want to pick me up and take me with them."
    "You belong here grounded in the earth by your roots dear rose.
It is I that protects you from being picked and taken on a journey not your own", responded lovingly the thorn.
The gilded opening is terse and with age defined,
Locking away the pathway from a golden mind,
Hairlike roots of tiny letters form a braid,
Ficus-ing along stretching prongs of Purple Jade,

Pushing they gather and spider around its ovate curves,
occasioning sprouts from cracks lips perturbed,
grammarized rain fertilizing delicate pods of flesh,
blossoming frosty lemon blooms of T's R's come to rest,

The bunched words hanging, dangling like grapes, of frailty,
dipping on fickle branches barely holding on to reality,
threatening to fall like daggered swords,
some silently whispered Jamaican bad words
Adaly DeLeon Jun 17
it’s the time of the season
i’m in full bloom
i have purpose, i have reason
i can bring light to a room
with my passion and smile
conversations worth the while
time spent recovering
from the sad thoughts hovering
rejections and pains reappearing
i stand without fear or feeling
brave and nonchalant
people aren’t too fond
of my actions, decisions
i am still aiming for my goals
with precision
judgement does not phase me
they don’t know what i’m facing
my petals had been withering
but with the time God has given me
i have grown
discovered the unknown
i had stored inside myself
roots watered without help
available all year round
a rare blossom ultimately found
I slept in today
She left the window cracked this morning and so many flies found their way into my belly ;)
I basked in the evening sun waiting for her to come out and rev that engine
The sound i used to hate now cant wait to hear
Finally as the sun starts to crouch behind the tree line i hear a door and i peer up out of my corner
Here she is
With her golden roots and stunted eyes as she squints from the setting sun
My anticipation grows as she opens the door and slides into the seat
The rev of the engine and the first puff of smoke she blows out of her lips intoxicate me
Ive been watching and ive positioned myself in the exact spot where the stream of smoke will run right into my small nostrils
Euphoria, as i inhale her second hand
The breeze from the open window makes me feel like a bird that ive watched my whole short lived life
Wishing i had wings so i could soar up near the clouds rather than dwelling in the dark engine of this metal machine but this is my fate
Just an arachnid living on the earth below
In my daydreaming i fail to notice the engine stopped and she is getting out
Ive missed my chance!
As she walks away i slink down into the crevice of this faded seat
I place my head in my arms and cry myself to sleep.....

Around midnight i hear shuffling outside and i raise my head...
Here she is! She coming out to the machine.
She opens the door and slides in
She has a visitor
He gets in the other door and sits in the seat i would so often hide
A song that would play on the radio many times before starts repeating in my head...

"Kiss me hard before you go
Summertime sadness
I just wanted you to know
That baby, your the best"

What would my mother say if she knew that i fell for a human
Oh the mockeries i would endure

I dont care
This is my only chance
I begin to crawl up the seat toward her left shoulder...gently i step down and slowly inch my way down to the bare flesh on her arm
As i step onto her skin it
feels like how i would think cashmere would feel and is as warm as a mothers sheeps wool
I stand motionless for what seems an eternity
My peacefull state is interuppted by a voice
It days "Look on your arm, a spider"
I know what comes next
I brace for impact as she flings her hand and i begin to sail into the air
I can hear them laugh and they call me "Peter" as i float out of her life
She cant hear my reply but i manage to get the words out which to her sound like a faint wind
"My name is Charles"......
If you are the least bit interested please go back and read from the beginning of the story and thank you ahead for your time!
What can one do when everyone is called by another name each day for fifteen years from childhood? Its called identity denied its a crime a hate crime most likely one may feel like something is wrong with who one was born to be one feels deprived of something most people aren't
its unaceptable and it boils inside you feels ugly unwanted unloved distrustful to show people who care about one of us who we really are its imposible to think that someone will understand and love you but here comes the big price to pay one might just get used to the fact that how we feel doesn't matter to anybody and might begin to think that its better that way in the hopes that such travesty of life will bring about  if not good fortune and luck then, at least sanity that no one can hurt me any more in the me for me department. To wear a mask forced by others is not so  bad but to self impose a mask is not healthy its a mental issue. So masks worn can be bad and good owmen. My imposed mask brought me true love great fortune and blessings. As for those poor souls who made me live invisible o the world they found karma is a big Bch and then comes divine law I am at peace with both. I was adopted too and placed in protective custody with yet another name it was ordered by a court of law in my country after my entire family were murdered in front of me by the Feds to steal my fathers land except 2 unkles and one aunt my family roots us Perhupecha indigenous race enemies of the Aztecs my people didn't believe in taking heart out but rather that things must sprout from the heart. Understand though that if men and women commit crimes against the least of us we might not show compassionate feelings towards others as expected if we offend them unwillingly because the world didn't do it for us and lacking wisdom, one lacking basic nurturing may inadvertedly  forfit great blessings to not say simply, please forgive me I am sorry and I love you. It just doesn't mean a woman like me not using her original identity is out there to deceiv lie chest or ,steal nor unable to feel pain remorse sadness and great love for loved ones towards the feelings of others and orinfinite disappointment in being part of a human race thats capable of so much injury and injustice towars the disadvantaged little ones in the very formative years which define the outcome of our end. I love people animals and children are many a blessing gift from God blessing and wholly to me I never would end a life unless it was medical advice as in danger to us both. I was against abortion its evil. In my case I had many just as in "TWO" TOO MANY not many and the second one at age 19 destroyed my love life I lost the live of my life because I didn't tell him I felt like I was dead that I couldn't even cry that I wish that I was dead because I adored him so he ran away he HID from me and wore his Mask!
Men who think women like to use abortion as birth control are deranged or diggin for the inner core of a woman constantly insecure men who
Judge wome men abortion is evil
Beet crumbles clinging to the hand in mine brush off familiarly between our fingers.
A sight for sore eyes evokes memories of a time where calloused hands created palettes, wroughting elements together over the canvas of faultless white platters. The pang through my soul twinges inward at the pruneyness of my nitrile stifled hands, echoing stymed passion. I envy how you still get to curate palates wholesomely from the roots.

My watch chimes over reminiscent conversation admonishing us of our obligations.

I like to think that in another stage of another life our passions will cross again.  Just as I hope it will in this one.
There are more blood in the fields
crushed in the dust of the land
and in the roots of many young sprouts.

It is born with the sun
the spirit of antiquity and eternal existence
long time ago that I used to construct.

In the fields the wind still flows
and carries the voice
where it is heard more.

In the woods near the hummock
irrelevant and empty,
where streams continue to roar...
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