Difficulties

Speckled spectacled angel fishes
Levitating faery leprechauns in red
Gelatin holograms of flavored plum essences
Flying with black plasma birds of micro galaxies
Hovering drops of rainbow rains and
Brightly colored moth kites, alive, or (insert preferred phantasies).

Digitized realities translated into ecstatic computations of abnormalities
Sensitized to altered states of euphoric subsistencies;
Grander designs in glorious novelties of ease filled tranquilities
Whisked away by risks
Transmogrified into deleted codes of ethereal beauties
Within vortices of lifetime’s misnumbered clocks.

Emptied pockets of meager profferings
Belittled brittle esteems,
Prescribed to bottled up fantasies,
Pawned off, traded inside passivities
For close proximities within frozen
Ticking tocks; a side effect: enacted slurred idiocies.

Dawdling over ilks of spilt shattered vials,
Liquefied greys sprayed across sacred grounds,
“How blasphemous! Despairingly erroneous!”, they’d exclaim,
Desecrating exhilaratingly breathtaking scenes
By way of pointing at foolishly held paganistic dreams;
Believed, albeit briefly.

Those posthumous moments of difficulties.


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Smashed Open Portals

Buttresses of circumventional cubic
Borders around hackneyed courtyards
Pour smoldering firecracker arrows that
Pin and veer into misty semisolid entities.

Sentiences declined access to limited piles of
Paraphernalia leave consecrated pretenses of
Privities. Faith filled majesties gain entrance
To inspect undiscovered artifacts of dependent
Values in disquieted shuffles distinctly heard as
They’d go through cracked vases, tarnished vessels,
Demolished traces of earthen clays, now discarded.

Simple forms forsaken, decidedly smashed open,
Revealing altercations into the old and the new.


Tuscan Moors Sway

In the fields of caterpillar reeds
Innocuous seeds release
Their tiny beaded griefs,
Inside these tuscan sienna moors,
Heathers undulate in ethereal sways
Until the stagnant rising dawn.
Hemispheres painted in lavender shades
Donned by the creeping fade.

The withered stems bend,
Shrivel up, and then
Give in;
Turning into mulch.


In That Time

Find solace in the evidential,
In the gains from love’s chase
From desperately trying to
Find metallic splinters to
Form those keys to
Unlock those doors where
Fragments of knowledge
Would be found in mystery,
Because that experience
In trying to even understand
A millimeter
On a seemingly endless ruler
Pushed you further
Than anything ever could.

Even it meant that
Every magical moment
Never happened.

It Clicks


 

Can you explain
The scales that consecutively run
To those that cannot sense it.

Our vision that pales;
His, hers, and mine,
In the faces of sophists.

Then dewy inklings
Of feathered proofs lapse
By subsequent engineering
In uncounted droplets
On tympanic shields
From deciphers felt.

Breathless moments buried;
Dissonant reverberations
Diminishing;
Things I
Use to
Savor.