Stubborn muse crushing the silence,
Ostracizing a poets choice for subsidence.
Rummaging within deeply settled thoughts,
Restoring the pain from a fight long lost.
Yearning for peace in Moira’s cruel world,
But tranquility is nothing but an illusion hurled.
Under the comfort of a memory he cowers,
Tacitly tending to a wounded promise of ‘forever’.
Deadly poison drank at a hidden park of bliss,
Arduous passions trapped in a labyrinthine abyss.
Requiems from a pink flying unicorn dinosaur,
Nestled memory of a silvery moon restored.
Irritating Cheshire re-creating a suspended story plot,
Making the poet think of that tiny green dot.
Macrocosmic tel-pad retention topped with coffee,
Ineffable pancakes and Sapio-sexuality…
Synchronicity ascertained on an abandoned soul tree,
Stellar contingency, and the usual “Stop saying sorry!”, (^__^)
Irrational belief in the numbers 12 and 7,
Never ending shouts to CB in heaven.
Golden snails and metal butterfly wings,
Yellow caterpillars, bicycle springs,
Odes and tragedy, 'camera lens' (a very shameful poetry,)
Undulating reason between reality and fantasy…
Desperately fixing a chaotically structured yet beautiful hair,
Echoing voices: “Don’t even go there!”
Elevated by these thoughts, the poet starts to smile,
Pulling himself away from the world’s guile.
Letting go of the hostility, accepting destiny,
Yet still…. 'twas a blissful tragedy...
Loving Luna as certain things are meant to be loved,
Keeping the emotions, secretly ............
“behind the shadow, the soul... below and up above...
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