Play me such symphony like no other
Not loud eery voices bursting into my space
No resounding cymbals and bizarre gongs rippling like forcefields
Just an orchestra stirring warmth in the depth of my bowels
evoking sentiments I never trusted myself to have
Play me a symphony that surmount the bentonite
to reveal a echt golden soul
Don’t you ever get weary of conjuring up chaos? of craving bits and pieces of Insanity? They have become as easy as the wishes that dwell in your thoughts.
it is the infallible thirst for peace that borrows a hole through your soul but life will happen regardless of what we choose;
No longer a stranger to failure for you have befriended the essence of cosmical madness
no longer threatened by the prophesies of imminent defeat.
The days of hiking down a steep hill, or swimming downstream, is expired
A little piece of you transforms into a gentle beast
a little piece of you floats with the wavy ocean that washes the faces of playing children.
Where did you go afterwards?
it takes a while to turn an orchid into marigold and a while longer to ignore the smell of your burning flesh.
And then the flames engulf your soothed skin and spits out a colour similar to lavender.
Like a thirst that could never be quenched latching onto spirit, so are you addicted to madness and the differences in between.
You are now a spool of blue poetic thread weaving itself around a brave zestful smile
You’d only just learnt that you are a soul that receives a body, and that forever and yesterday are one and the same.
Now that you have made peace with the turmoils brewing within you, what piece of you is willing to be shattered next?
delivering a smoky kiss
to her thorax
Like the winter’s sun
mystery shadows on alpine
innocence will fade.
He’d sit next to her
Like the gypsy’s rendition,
she’d become younger.
His voice is her salt
caramel mixed with charm
hopeful till the end
She is an Iglo
His heart now her vortex
lonely nights no more
He took her hand in his
He sang an age long lullaby
longer than she’d care for.
Flickers of belle âme
First movie her eyes allowed her see
a ballet of sorts
In another time
They could be perfect strangers
Perhaps another millennium.