The sky is deep and murky green, The white sun sinking over the horizon, Extended by junk and litter.
This is the oxymoronic haven. A carnival of despair Filled with torturous laughter Distorted, slow, hurdy-gurdy whistles, And tinkling, unsettling music-boxes.
I look around this miserable paradise To see my friends all around me. They’ve encircled me, But now they’re turning away, Leaving me in this nightmarish heaven. They don’t want me anymore. What little usefulness I had, I have long outlived. So they say.
And as they disperse, The sun sets even more And the laughter, the disturbing distorted jingles, Replace the circle of friends, trapping me in the dark As I turn to monochrome, the film grain masking My cries of despair.
Suddenly, I’m falling. Falling through a bottomless pit No end. No beginning… Just oblivion… Until my eyes open again…
My muse is like an excitable dog. It catches sight of totally random things and starts yapping and running around and wagging its tail and WILL NOT STOP until I write a poem about it.My poetry is sometimes based on personal experience and sometimes on other things. Aside from that, I enjoy video games (My favourite game series is Mass Effect) and the popular television show My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic.
At the beach, it’s night time about 8.00 p.m. Best time to come few people around. Air is crisp, clean; cool, and the white horses are having such fun. Can sit for hours or gently wade while she softly whispers
I hate the self-immolation of orange sex. Weather was leaving blue strings on the skin. Redemption was incomplete by sharing the legs Lips will not knead the ears. Like wakng in darkness for a passage to grief. Black moon will
A volcanic kiss was becoming ungreen. The shark was coming. All night it was raining. The sap was rising and love-farm was deluged. A blue moon walks on the dry eyes. Why the tears had gone to exile? A mole
The dark clouds are rolling in quickly, wild wind blows fast and fiercely Many leaves and twigs start twirling around and circling Feeling like Edgar Allen Poe, In the distance I can hear some echo’s Of many dog’s barking in