beat waves , beach haze

beat drips , in slaves mouths as they thank the rich for their gift of tapped water

and tapped shoes on tapping feet dancing not to entertain but to save their skins from narrow , harrow mishap and they know , if they make it out of there alive they’ll never go back

not now , not ever.

not now , never .

not now .


not now ...
not now...

not now....
then when?...

when , were they,  there
and where were they there..

who  - . ? (owls)

who sat upon drinking mats and dancing streets who ate with their shoes at their feet?
who licked up their milk , who danced with starlight naked with no more gilt then guilt
and shame to beneficiours name and thankful legend doth save mankinds *** - once again.

and you tell me i shouldn’t be writing stories and tales
and bed time nightmares
wait till i get dark -

MOON.

is the name.  winks

i am not the moon , no ,  but i am a faucet of moon’s taste and moon’s style her failures and her virtues , if it’s easier for you , i am moon personified...

hovers slightly

i once read somewhere - love is  metaphysical gravity -

i’ve never heard anything more scientifically accurate.

Lips lock - the poppers drop
one by one , zip slide ,
electric skin , carnvicours sins - some would deem un worldly
well - i wouldn’t put it past yourself
it’s only in the shadows of days death ,

the night time arena
many a metaphysical friend and maybe a few foes

Life , knows....

Maybe that’s who we should start with eh , noob?

Life? His house is over there.

Take my hand -

See , down below - we have the lands of El Salvador

and here , is Papua ,

Look Svalbard....and the elves are having a party...

*Dive bombs to Svalbards shores ....the mountain white drenched in sipping brews the elves rest in woodland - night begins to wrap the company in shivers and the light flickers out * - shh say’s moon - it’s almost time -

the last full moon of summer , is rising.

from beyond the frozen lake shores where all lay still sat the moon’s crest her light before her self
up on the shelf of mountain lip ,


and with grace like no other - the orb slowly began to glow green


and the thunderstorm no one had seen cracked lightning behind , called up by norse winds and norse tides.

The elves looked upon the tree and a single blossom falls,

touches the floor and blinds them all in bright light.

END CHAPTER -

Recipe for making a ****
"The God of Unknown"

Ingredients:
× Half a dozen of personalities 
× A spoonful of Unknown questions 
× 2/3 of darkness from Svalbard
× A Jar full of pain from the rain
× A whole book of poetries called Unlove
× Freshly hand-picked Metaphors
× A pinch of verses dipped in curses 

Even before starting the recipe, it could intoxicate you, to be safe until the end be patience and forget you have a heart to love.

Procedure:

Heat the cast iron pan on high flames,
Pour the pain boil it until you see bubbles,
then drop one by one all the personalities stir it well on low flames,
an ebullient aroma will start to fill the room
Now add a spoonful of Unknown questions, Questions that have souls attached to them be careful they might jump over you.
Now take the book cut through the pages,
book of poetries in a zig-zag pattern,
like the wrist of a lover who wrote poetries to hate her but couldn't Unlove her,
Now turn the flames to high and add 2/3 of the darkness from Svalbard an Ingredient that keeps the balance of the entity, stir until everything has been mixed well
Take a pinch of verses dipped in curses toss the pan and sprinkle the magic portion, an Ingredient that makes ripple in the timeline of every multiverse to relive the moments,
Finally, Garnish with freshly hand-picked Metaphors only for the ones persistence for the worthiness.

Eureka 
Your, **** has been created.

©sarcasticbong