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Kay-Rosa Apr 2019
Focused on this tim'd delay,
Never knowing what to say,
Figuring out what might remain,
My ****** sky became,
And it spelled my name
It started insane,
Golden rain,
Passenger train,
Aquitane could be home.
But, inside my brain
There's a charlemagne,
A superficial middle cerebral vein,
Pounding and pulsating, keeping things in their lane
Constantly trying to ruin my game,
Crushing my whispering campaign,
But between my ruffed feathers, is my vibrissae
My bristl'd down, my come-in-and-stay,
My soft spot just for you,
"You set my heart aflame,
Every part aflame,
This is not a game."
You say,
trying my patience, pushing the timeframe
Carv'd in the window frame,
That premature hall of fame,
is our name.
All the voices and their claims,
"We'll always be there,
just beneath your vibrissae."
This is pretty much stream of consciousness.
Carlos Nov 2017
Handshake claw grip, crustaceans with an overstatement,

Never distressed with a sober sense spent on aimless wastage,

Never become too complacent,

Never butter devil's sodden words on scriptures burned through the ages,

Certain pages curtain stages grace to shattered shambles curdled shameless.

Shiny geodes the traditions on the backhand,

Sages matching matter sets a salamandrine babble balance act,

Skin tight ever-bond clasped reattachment,

Radical bags sag at the mystery of a mattress ,

Routine carry forth enabling of double standards,

Tailored youth to a callous canvassed pander *******,

Cat scratch moral compass to the badlands,

The pinnacle of rabid actions in the aftermath,

After that,

A rabbit or a lab rat,

Maze running side effects from the last batch,

No lessons learned just oblivious to brass tax,

Malleable malice in the marrow of the crab man,

Can't stand a phalanx divided by the last laugh,

******* sinner Peter chapters in the chapel of a hashtag,

Shadows in the chiaroscuro flit mongers little gas lamps,

Calypso rhythm stages a symphony of backstabs,

Coup d'etat passive damage scatters gravel slat in sandbags,

No matter shiny medal coiled vertebrae permeate the flashbacks,

Never with a sordid memory retraced to get a plaque stamped.
Seher Seven Dec 2014
reality is
that plants and man
go hand in hand
that plants mans
right hand man
that mans hand
is strengthened through
plants.
plants blood
feeds man.
mans bones
feed plants.
no plants no man.
the relationship is
symbiotic.

reality is
freedom is a birthright
of all born.
freedom to do as
one yearns, pulled toward.
concrete somehow tricks
our feet into believing we are free.
though we do not hear
the message of the beat
the tune of the heat
emanating from the earth.
we miss steps, tricked by concrete.
our egos need a check.

reality is
all are symbiotic relationships.
no you no me.
I only see me because
I can see me next to you.
same with plants.
life is not linear
or clean, the dirt you sweep up
is meant for you to breath.
vibrissae deal in exclusive ways,
only allowing nutrients
and B12 in.
mysophobia is a dis-ease of the mind.

reality is
we are cut off from our home.
from our air
from our dirt
and our plants.
they too miss us.
the wisdom of life is long
the proof to **** linearity.
the trees call us to honor our bond
to sound the alarm
calmly, in the dream state
so all touch the vibration.

they call to us always.
their dreams need our ears
our hands release the inspiration
of us, together, symbiotically
creating.

— The End —