~ Love the ruffled ones ~

 

 

 

                   I love the damaged ones
    For when their feathers are preened, smoothed with heart
    Breathed ever so gently thoughts
    A song begins to be remembered, a colour blends
    a part of a rainbow quivers within an eye oh so sapphire awakens.
                   Then a ruffle of feathers alight
    a lullaby where we came from takes flight
    for we all breathe under the stars
    and surf this turning earth, and exhale to the milky way
    the way we came to earth.

                       9 – 26 – 13

 

Were we uncommon

Are you watching the stars.
Are you under the covers warm with the light that bends around this earth.
Which touches the disk in the sky, called by many names through the earliest of eyes, which gazed then bathed their cool body under a river of a silver sliver of opalescent moon.

Taken; you lay, held wordless as this crescent grew to a fullness,  then hungrily waning away, a thirst to follow a rhythm of changes.

Are you watching the stars. Forever never changes, an orb that becomes change. Consistent desired primal and true. Carnal peace a stone that fits upon the body flows .
Phosphor light filling a rhythm.
Were not for the winged iridescent curious creatures born absorbed with the celestial colour.                                           Were this not my body that painted from a moons glow, were this not a memory, where from a wind carried thought through an evenings vesper.

Would not my piece of being fit so well into your wish so perfectly. That we would be as once, no one living today uncommonly remembers .

10 – 9 – 13

For not this night

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                Withdrawn nested twilight evening. Moon leads her path away, leaving this night inking evening pure. Obsidian nights as a flower unfolds, a hand touches someone starring through. Petals so opaque caressing this complaint, darkened hum chorused.
                 Is this strum strum of a melodious hum of ancient songs learned from these stars. All in my head this night shrouds a purity of vastness. This sentient diagram, geometry of symbols distilled. For it is a capsule, a medicine taken. 
For these stars, drawn within this nest from a moonless night. My heart shines like an obsidian shard. This flower tills a gaze with distant suns. A finger untwines, expires becoming timeless.
                 For not these nights moonless, for not an echo passed into the drone so dark in a night like a heart beat of another ancient song.
                 For not this night’s delirious intoxication, would I not be wild .

4 – 23 – 14

 

Quench

Quench ~

             I like the sound that quenching sings. where sound touches in a wordless world, quenching a soul breathless.  I like that soundless tactile of drying sand shifting through fingers, while a sun sets quenches the sightless horizon.     Like the way a wave quenches the grains of a dry beach yet again.

            Quenched sands glimmer a hand of stars between fingers pause. Quenching slow rains strobe a way,         where memory was found misplaced, once upon a sleeping city listens to the oceans subtle roar. And the pearl of a midnight sky pulses from lightning, a stillness beneath.

            Yet between, binds earth, the chorus of aural creatures, filling quiet undulation,

            quivers a nests beneath this pearl in a midnight sky.

          11 – 21 – 13

 

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