When industry is repurposed savage,
colors explode in a rebirth of sorts.
A stairway leads to all that is unseen,
spiral up to the spirit of the unknown.
Colors explode in a rebirth of sorts,
ligneous beauty remains unrivaled.
Spiral up to the spirit of the unknown
follow what is in your nature to do.
Ligneous beauty remains unrivaled,
unfiltered will ultimately transfix you.
Follow what is in your nature to do,
bright colors flourish with fertilization.
Unfiltered will ultimately transfix you,
pastel lights and fancy flights take off.
Bright colors flourish with fertilization,
mad genius leaks all over the mundane.
Pastel lights and fancy flights take off,
a stairway leads to all that is unseen.
Mad genius leaks all over the mundane,
when industry is repurposed savage.
When my city unshuts below,
its crude, inured eyes: lewd its faux
regard for mere mortals that drift
amid cement and steel. Who flow
bereft; enslaved by night's shift.
Dissent its rude rebirth; in thrift,
withdrawn from grace of day's new dawn;
caffeine avers a spiritual lift.
Recede to homes' suburban lawns,
reticent lips, aside for yawns,
with ways to slog before they sleep;
paroled from drudge, trudging like pawns.
Climb ligneous cliffs: deeply steep,
onward, upward, on limbs that creep
to sterile slumber - their souls to keep -
until new toils throng them like sheep
The woods have been gathering here
for generations,
they bring their faithful rings
scored into aged ligneous skins.
The language of the trees is arcane,
it arrives from deep ancestral roots.
Tree-words turn green while still in the seed,
those seeds grow
until they sing like bells
chiming with the earth-turning sky.
A stream flowing through the old oak tree is still alive.
The heart of the forest (wood which has lived to long it is, unexpected obstacle, this living log
and complicated cover which I lowered)
of rich redwood of old green growth
the menagerie where these forests are in English it is simple.
Once of the lower order I climb up to be exchanged.
Decrease slippery many salamanders for example,
going in and out of the mouth of holes in the clay.
Fighting it depends on the rough ligneous wreckage.
Many kinds are compared to the forest
where the plantation and other young person maintain
social structural their heritage and are managed,
at least temporarily.
It is expected some watching while a few others
all over one maintains their feelings, facial composure.
Being natural, the dependence of many more of the same
but different shapes to the feature of the old forest.
Some salamanders are short thick headed and round.
It lived and died inside, the wooden cavity of the oak.
Others with heads to huge were lowered deeper inside.
Before, perhaps, it's empty when full catching breath because
of the heritage which remains there it is there rooted mainly.
The woods have been gathering here
for long generations,
they have their own arboreal language,
a nocturnal patois
ground out by layers of ligneous skins.
The language is arcane,
it arrives from deep ancestral roots
incantations that turn slowly
into the kernels of long seeded words.
Deep into the night I listen,
then listen yet more
to the garrulous gossiping
of a creaky wooden bed
chatting to a talky timbered floor.
PENTAPOLIS
GAZA.
From this small clearing he won’t move
into the ligneous shades of dark,
fixed stillness in his day’s aubade,
all circled there by timber spars.
ASHKELON
At times a bright lit path appears
so then he’s tempted to explore.
ASHDOD
Yet just one brush against those spars
and then small folk come tumbling down.
EKRON
Hate filled, from stilts they fall to ground.
GATH.
Here their delusions lose the light,
around them only spars they see
bearing the clan with tunnelled sight
that trample virtuosity into a pulp
where arts confined to narrow paths this
modish time.
Amongst this ligneous I don’t run around,
keep still where all the timber spars surround,
for if I move a little man falls down
hate filled from stilts I brought him to the ground.
Delusion was his watchword when up high,
deluded how the light would blind his eyes
but with his feet on grass the forest sees
and what a stilted mind defines as trees.
Saudade, assiduously dumping buckets of gelid-infused water overtop my vehemently flickering flame.
Arrogantly reigning my banished feelings of joie de vi-vre.
Undermining my drumming heart, snapping both ligneous sticks into splinters.
Duping our garish star, precipitating a myriad of inexorably raucous winters.
Absentmindedly amending my evocative, gaudy-slathered soul.
Dowsing my dullsville, dreary inside with black and white.
Etching my gunmetal grave with my name and date, sizzling my emotions with crimson cracked coals.
Aesthetic melodies that carries the waves to dance
The sweet voice of an opera singer flew by in the wind,
As the sparkling sapphire sea cooperates the tunes to enhance
Being forcefully driven to her seduction you are sinned
The fishermen by the ocean lusted for her, yet fear’d
Her melodies will fade into the salty ocean air with tunes untuned
She would vanish into the deep cerulean world and disappear
Under in the depths of the waters of lukewarm, she crooned
Her slippery fish tail brushed against the ligneous boats,
Tangled hair with the smell of seaweed lured them like fish
With an empty wooden frame that remains afloat
What the vengeful creature sought to seek had already fulfilled its wish
On the monstrous rock that sat in the mist of froth, she hummed
She awaited her luscious prey to enter her irresistible world has yet to come
i watch the sunrise
unbuttoning the stuffed pouches
of thunderclouds
soaking
imagination
with dry-drunk dewdrops
becoming bubbles
blown through
ringbarked
jewelry
worn
by the roots
of rhinestone rapids
growing in
spider
webs
trying to catch
a flying_fox
there has always
been a silent
soft echoed
beauty
dancing on the tides
from down
under
perfect pirouettes
showing ligneous dustdevils
proper form
forming
Dead-Sea
chiseled
respect
healing ones
inner folds
unfolding miracles
tucked away in moonpedicured
moments missing myriad music
marching in eucalyptustars
shining smiles upon licorice
chainlinkisses
in my minds eye
blackroom sound-proofed
in blacklighted boughs
creating windframed
wisdom
seen with the hearts
meshed monocle
revealing purity into
eternaluminum sliced skies
painting
memories
throughout dimensions
of a multi-faceted
prism
watched
from verandas
of velcro vicidreamt
sand
waking
up the sleeper
still
nowhere
near you
but
closer
than we've
ever
been
Widened lips in an inert ligneous watercraft, fervent eyes gazing the moon,
Her mane of aureate intriguing hair in a wintry night, the dark cranium of a dainty loon.
Unblemished ivory gown glistering under the umbra of gleaming stars, wondrous quietness of the prodigious forest.
Benign fog over the serene skin of a highland tarn, beautifying the panorama as a fragrant florist.
A fugitive moment's princess, the waterscape peculiarly blithesome,
A dream breathing itself out of wisdom, am I earnestly painting a poem?
The Poem is dedicated to nine innocents who has lost their lives in Israli attak on their
humanitarian aid.
Docility, a living destitute of Anthropomorphism.
Recency, appalling of desperation or piteous anomalism.
Recommendations apotheosize a fussiness of hell or heaven,
A gun shooter killed innocents a crackable Raven.
To shot a child or an old person hard lines limicolous
Inconsecutive lewdness a peevish peeping Tom Ligneous.
Reprehensible polygamist direful coiled chaotic prattle,
A salacious salubrity paramour remorseless battle
There you stand for years to come
Lines and ridges
To the weather you succumb
Scared and broken
Limbs undone
Some unable to reach the sun
Once young and filled with a yearning
Now your sisters and brothers
We are burning
Tore down for justice
Broken since the days of robustas
Man has feasted on you for so long
He continues though he knows that’s its wrong
Few resources
Are left
Like strangers in the night
Holding onto our theft
Logging the forests
The trees that help control with porous
Roots and shots
Without them we will smother
In a polluted flooded land
That was built from our brothers
Built by hand
To the modern world we know
Today
There you stand for years to come
Lines and ridges
Built around you stand the
Cities of bridges
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