The negligence of loveataral romanincing
Is a process where one partner undermines
In the favor of ones self.
It is to speak a partner unloved might
The other spy or cause unravelings
Due to the kinship of partnering.
Done in the sight of duty, might there
tainted feelings make script in there
deceit. Often to the applaudes of
Others there allowance to introduce
Gives them right to deceive.
As hatred disguised as righteousness
Redraws the character, making villains
Of ordinary characters.?? villaining
People into their interputations of
Villains, or villianest so on and ECT!
The blueing oboe intros the bassoon
With detail created by the fluter, calm the
Shores of Natron might the birdlike creature
Remember to fly, to crush the statues on the
Shores of Surriento!
Written by: Phalus Crumbuios
Legend of Chelloius
Hissing like the glide of silk
A python curls upon my throat
It’s not his fault that he was born to kill
The blueing of my skin makes me a ghost
It’s not his fault that he was made to kill
Why is it when I part my lips
A little bird is born and flies
The python wishes he was born with wings
He forced it out, now robs it of the sky
He wishes he was made to fly
It was my friend, the biting wind
Caressing, rosing up my face
Red apples in my cheeks like I’m a kid
A dying dog sits patiently and waits
Excited to be euthanized and skinned
A wound so fresh that it still bleeds
Three bony fingers dig inside
The carpet splattered scarlet red with beads
My gore’s a jewel I get to wear with pride
You take and take till it’s not longer mine
The passive, gray fruit of your eye
When it’s on me, it’s like it speaks
My fruits are green therefore they don’t reply
Your words are like a puzzle, missing piece
Should be a joke but sounds more like a lie
There’s something silly in it all
In stealing words from children
When you decide to put them in your art
My presence is in plain sight, hidden
But you will always know I played a part
Whence the first rays of sunlight fall,
And nary a bird awake,
The purple shades of sky,
Signal for the war-drums to be played.
Sleep blown away,
The gruelling struggle stirs,
And the blueing sky calls,
For the armies to lay waste.
A thousand graves are dug,
Lifted aside are fallen men,
Letters put into being,
To be perused by brood and and bruv.
War stems from hope and anger,
In an inebriated state of righteousness,
Unfounded assumptions seeded by desire,
To be brought to rest in a book or melancholy tune of lyre.
So beware, raconteur,
the golden crusade, a facade of wreath of laurel,
For triumph is founded on the back of coercion.
Alas, nations will fight with power,
But men will be flayed away,
Not unlike the fabled golden crusade.
A cold air
billowed over the threshold
dew spat itself
on blueing leather
its sting exhilarating
the pulling tendril finger tips of the sun
as it pulls itself from the shadow horizon
and diamond grass
splinters kaleidoscope fragments
and breath talons
deep within.
Old Expensive
The snow is falling, so, I button up my head,
above it, Someone’s sound – “above a street lamp”.
Music, leaks in, the lampshade sways,
hanging above a stained in bed;
Freddie gave it all for champagne.
Until, the thin applause fell flat!
Outside amongst the frozen sparrows,
and the cutting snowflakes, snowblades;
I see the monsters of winter, No!
I see the monster that is winter; coldly
emerging from its hollowness glade.
An old man in his expensive wilderness
rushes by, his white distorted knuckles
try to squeeze the breath, slowly from
his bitter dream of heavy coins and light notes.
While back at home! His wife shaves her skin,
to make him thin! She stands in a timeless mirror,
in a seamless hall, surrounded by a reflection of wealth!
This has now revealed itself as their poverty,
tangled in a bruise memory of blueing veins.
Comfortably! The monster sits; waiting in their counting house.
The blueing ocean
Separate eagle and dove
Spiritual birds
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/nature4.php
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