Along side the fortuitous jungle, an abandoned home of modernity resides.
Bemused amphibian creatures dwell inside the structure of splintered doors
Confounded by the alligators, that lived submerged in the moldy algae pool,
Disengaged from musty biomechanical elephants of carbon fibers; layered by
Embossed hides that mimicked the genuine; anomalous minted bodies; tusks
Foiled in amorphous metals; full massive limbs with built in tank treads. A
Gnollish wanderer spurred from the tropics it spurned, gasping at its new
Horrendous position. It glanced at the home with decaying walls and decided
“Into the pool I shall go.” It dove into currents powered by solar panels built,
Jarringly, hundreds of years ago. Opening it’s eyes in still translucent waters, it
Keenly took note of the horrid predators snaking in the distance, wearily
Locating them by its peripherals. It rushed its hands over a ledge, creating
Murky lollygagging whorls. One hastened in petrifying speeds, so it heaved a
Nodule, it intrepidly found, in the direction of the biomechanical beasts.
Omitting the gnoll, it lunged into its predetermined crackling symmetries.
Prismatic galaxies reflect their dazzling dapples onto drifting creeks,
Where an honorary natal thicket figure hums her partial vocalized arias
While perched atop a shadowy steed of billowing fantasy subsistences
Made of curious absorbing electromagnetic waves of vantablack shades.
Her arms covered in sleeves of clefted Aquarian Illusion fish scale runs,
Patterned with lines uniformly starting from the base to each razored dip,
Pearlescent tints of frosty teals, creamy lavenders, and blushing pinks;
Colourations in precisions of flagellations of pignorations; abhorred.
She cleanses her curved scimitar of foggy alumina glass of nighted
Shades, beginning at the shaft then diminishing midway, fully glazed.
She’d immerse it into soft rippling waters that’d clove the drifting surface;
Habitual subsequent actions from slaying conflagrating bedeviled demons.
She’d disparagingly stare into their eyes before she’d plunge her blade,
Nipping their blundering attempts to avoid having their souls sucked out
By her electrifying debonair demeanor towards handling stolen lives:
The madcap ice queen aquatic; who believes: Life should be tried.
Onslaughts of treacherous rains on fords
Enter into orifices of insidious grey plumes.
Errs of swelling gutters spilling over edges,
Erroneous gushes of sawdering hushes
Emitting from meticulously gathered pools
Upon roofs under iterated statuaries;
Yanked out weeds from garden beds.
From a transcendental spacecraft she peered
Hesitantly into our Nethersphere.
We stared at her otherworldliness,
With our mouths ajar at slighted steels,
As she dropped hollowed amber pearls
Along with small albino peacock flues
And fragilities of unidentified substances
In disordered chaos’s inside chances
We meticulously caught; created
From machined computations of
Aster calculations by her formulae.
Shooting down in hypergravitational velocities
They’d shatter into microscopic smithereens
Along with the vortexing winds they flew
Away with those other mysteries we’d
Never get the chance to witness:
She jet streamed from us;
Flames gradually engulfing.
Miniscule orbs illuminated in subtle glows
Float towards cloudless cerulean skies
As plum blossom petals loftily distract her zigzagging eyes
In absorbing trances of mesmerizing perspectival glances.
Steadily, she places her hands on the hilt,
Bracing her legs to make the next leap
In the labyrinthine curves of tilted mounds
Where mice would swerve and sulk past her feet.
She pauses, images of misstepped darkness
Blinds in olive, sorrowfully fading inside
Abysmal medicinal remedies of impossibilities
Successionally staring in rotations, blankly.
Morality fights a battle
With hedonistic gains.
Required wooden beats
Of xylophonic tweets
The amount against us:
Four antagonistic rings.
Opposing rustic tones
In glockenspiel cries
Metallic shrills in posts
Of shivering wars lost.
Of variant dimensions
In alternative time lines.
Had this altered reality
Been woven from
Less threads of irony
Perhaps the threat
Of chromatic order
Would have weighed
Had pits of venomous snakes,
The ditches of fecal mud,
And basins of sulfuric waters,
Been a tad less full,
Maybe my mind
Would be able to find
Specific words to relocate.
Had tragic courted endings
Been drummed in rhythmic
Temporal tempoed thrums;
Successions of hilarious distinction,
Could’ve led to succinct trills
Of thrilled horrors of sharpened
Ballads of succubus murder.
If my brain could be convinced
Of a reason to keep dragging
This ball of chaotic rumblings
To the middle chapter
To places where pilots
Could take off their names
I could have thought
We stood a fighting chance
Instead of feeling
It becoming an
Futily I search deserted tundras
For six leafed clover
In Fata Morgana mirages
Morphing, distorting, inverting
Sequentially imagined scenarios.
The harshness of veracity
Shoots flaming arrows of certainty,
Fata Morgana promises
Of travelling distant lands
That were not targeted towards me,
Piercing this soul of its fetidity;
The offensive odor of pomposity;
To have the audacity
To have even an inkling of suspicion
To think that
That tumultuous wielder
Of golden tipped arrows
Would point such artillery
At such unworthy targetry.
The sombre of mendacity
Feebly folds in margins of duality
Of acceptance and repudiations
Where Fata Morgana regions
Supply convecting refracted reasons
Of changes in emotional climates;
Discarded ancient promises dustily
Recovered over realisations of finality.
You were the catalyst for germinating emergence
That were pushed out from underneath;
From soils of freezing and thawing cycles
Where permanence didn’t stand a chance;
Still, even in beguiling barren landscapes
In another flickering optical distortion
I see fields of clovers.