Short Mobs Poems

Drops From Mobs

Loss of awareness,I forgot my ambience.
Expansions in floral exuberance,
and exhibits unique ecological trance.
As my veins they come from silence.
Owning a mount is quite a feat of dance.

Concert of sounds, the spectacle of colour.
As a different type of raw contour.
It transmutes the tour.
Their imbuing weapons and armor.
The black empowerments, 
illegal logging and states of loor.