"rosily" poems
When I honestly express myself, certain people don't like it. Why don't they like it? Their vampiristic egos feed off of diminishing other's self-esteem. The flourishing blossom of my persona causes their ugly **** to feel uncomfortable and insignificant. Much like weeds, they would rather strangle a rosily blossom than contribute to the beauty of the garden.
Apr 16, 2015
Apr 16, 2015 at 5:25 PM UTC
what do you receive
when you trace my hand?
are there bones
sharpened by stones,
or
enough cushions
to take
something
poorly sewn
and wipe away skin
revealing doubt
that I'm not
meant for
the word
that I'm in?
is your vision rosily tainted,
or am I worthy of
finite
ink?
Dec 28, 2015
Dec 28, 2015 at 3:22 AM UTC
enter the horde of idle hedonists
heroes slur disoriented erudition of histories
outsiders stride thru moonlit senility
foe to friend unite under mouthfuls of russet ***
ode to red
riddle riled riots
thrums of melodious lyres
sordid souls soothed, rosily smothered
the thunder of serotine desire resounds
sermonsised myths of lush ironies
elitism interlude
the host rules in definite dement
throne of flumed fortune
floods of dense ferment
series of sly smiles, seedy smolders
edified reins of unholy freedom
shrine to lurid stimuli of ruin
Apr 29, 2017
Apr 29, 2017 at 4:33 PM UTC