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Chris Jun 2015
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“Upon this moss of emerald haze, into this lilac beauty gaze”

In fern leaf wishes of songlike verse, shadows drift as banners flowing
‘pon pinecone promises of starlit dreams, where lavender voices echo melodic harmonies above foot print mosaics laced of soft green grasses. Enchantment comes in silhouettes of euphoric dreams on a periwinkle canvas… as brush strokes of nature gather in this twilight solitude, where your love is forever my tranquility
Good night Beautiful
spysgrandson Oct 2013
desiccation
takes time,

though when complete
things are less fetid and foul
  
it helps if left uncovered  
for the sun’s pineapple golden rays
to do their job, for the elements
to commune with this immovable feast
for maggots to have their fill

rain doesn’t necessarily get in the way  
of this inevitable decay, for the moisture
does not tarry, on hairless felled apes  

children go more quickly than soldiers  
(less bulk and not clad in such armor)
but the most Herculean eventually succumb  
to songlike soft breezes    
and chemistry’s melodic dance  

slowly, slowly in the wind  
listen, you will hear them  
though they utter not a word
"Slowly, Slowly in the Wind" is a Patricia Highsmith short story about a ******
c rogan Jun 2020
I walk down the empty sidewalk, south towards the city light.  
Golden ice glass covers twigs and still born buds like a hypothermic glaze
Claustrophobic and sterile, preserved sacred artifacts
Your clothes crucify against me like hot water we showered under, unfiltered winter sun; learning what peace is.
She’s on the phone, paper cut thighs.  We slept in the same bed last night, warming the sheets.  I keep you close so you don’t have to.
Tattoos of bookmarks, her quiet voice gravitating the landscape like starlight silken water; keeps the planets pinned in place behind dust collected charcoal sky.
Rhythmical beauty of cluttered strange songlike beauty,
Luminescent trees bow to the collage of rippling temperate light
Wearing my clothes and memories like the stories that saturate the senses
Monuments of scraps on display,
Crepitating stiff fabric frosts over on the surface,
My voice permeates the stitches
Like the mild toxicity of long-lost lovers.
Sedated neutral placidity, a rare syzygy

Blackout night blackout poetry, streetlight washed porcelain
Scrubs clean the severity of tenebrous light and shadow
Tender rain delicately succumbs to snow
Absent cold universe of separation
Melts upon collision with wet stone
These fallen angels rest peacefully now in the empty dark
Adumbral and indistinct, illusionistic tame dreams
Have mercy... for I’ve just begun to learn to dress for the weather.  

So --- I’ll blow on your tea while its too hot --- the warmth spreading from my fingertips --- to yours.  Green leaves, translucent gems bobbing in jade water.  Make you warm breakfast in the morning, your half-sleep cuddling into my side, reaching through layers of warm blankets.
--- I had begun to forget my walk last night.
Thank you, Lord, I'm always a step ahead.
Billionaires poems on my head.
Billionaire's mindset on my poems.
Procrastination stops bumming my brand.
No matter what they say, I'm always a step ahead.
My mind is rich, my hands leaking songlike poems.
My mind thinking big, my lips spilling melodious poems.
Never undermine yourself, I say walk tall!
I'm thinking big, I'm walking tall!
They betray me, day in and day out, and I don't mind.
I don't care, they chose to play with their mind.
No matter what they do, I'm still thinking big.
No matter what they say, I'm still making big.
Thank you, Lord, hustler's mind is found in my poems.

Written By: The Senior Date: 10/07/2021
-The Vision

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