The creaking of the pines elicits icy shivers, like steel fingers raked upon a naked spine, pine needles quivering like jagged splinters jabbed into desperate thirsty veins Slivers of pain, slices of sorrow, glimpsed through the gaping cracks between the bark, as stark winds whisper then wail weaving twisted tales of ennui and despair Oh, the horrors they have seen while the sun giggles and gleams from her corner of the forest peering from her perch amid the heavens, her cackles seep into the earth to settle among the dirt and the decay As the emerald canopy leads the lost souls astray through the labyrinth of decomposing leaves, corpses cast off from the trees, disrobing before the fastidious eyes of their maker, undertakers laying out their palls for the weak and broken to bear
If one could fly away, Where could you go, Besides the sky to stay? If one could bike, Cycle into the skyline, Left foot fine, Right foot aligned, Thoughts fill my mind, The blind can read it. When you were fine, and I took the time, When you were mine, I looked life away. When you're five, You say goodnight, and you hope the same, for your final days. When you lie awake, Were the choices you made right: My private plane, My rightful place? My silent rage. She says you're mine, To another guy, Would I mind? I mean, I made no complaint.
Bob haircut got published, Bizarre letters, smudges, Writ incompetent failure. Box cutter and razors, Bomb shelter, Protect me from fears of, Awfulness and strangers. I don't believe in the merits, Photographer spouting nonsense, So are the product of his labour, Nonsense: the popular translation. In the end I saw nothing.
Ire infinite, by ignorance Life is not made by appearances, Science fiction or analyzing images. Ironic it should be so definite: Want of intelligence, talking skeleton, In the end an experiment of my own. Wind instrument requiring discipline: With a single word thy kingdom learnt, Like a little tiny recumbent bicycle, Not even big enough for one person, For certain, mine is life livable, But is the danger really worth it?
the santan dew crawls out of the stalk if you break it apart from the bush suddenly it burns brighter than dust small grand doors tiptoed to kiss their frames held by hinges, but try to reach north alas, their fates are back and forth there’s a somnolence to homes that are not yours holed with metaphors you never explored to tell your throat is for similes or possibly something else i wonder if wells hear wishes or if they are mere echoes of aired fulfillment perhaps that’s why the well water only gets to see the sky even if i bury my fingers beneath the soil, i am no root. even when i draw lines on the sand, i make no shore.
I write of simple, financial issues, Career moves, Careening doves living. Writing of her dimples; I can forgive, no substantial dispute, Education isn't a standard issue, Like flies striking a civilian, What little I know I know little of, And even that I misuse. An Odyssey of nonsense words, I write, Simple, my peers peer my finger works, Writhe in vigor, like flies in flight.
Last living lemming, No house to live in, No Chandeliers; Next exhibit, Next exhibition, Spoke of past tense in English, Fluent in other languages; An Eccentric Mystic, Poetic Lyrics, and their beginnings; One carves caverns, Of all manner of rock, What matters of master? The afterthought.
sycophantic silhouette stalks into the room and the woman who casts it brings death, immortal doom she bids disguise fall when the man sees her through never a dame, but bluegreenbrown eyes, same as you you, who lives their life by ritual, routine will never see the cold, red blood or the glistening sheen of sweat on the brow of a new, soft corpse or the embers of the flame that drive you north your cadence keeps you pliant, your rhyme bids you no further! what drove you to this, to poetry, to murder? as the blade bids adieu through the back of his skull and the red of his head grows increasingly dull and the light bleeds out of the sword in his eye ‘any woman can see him orgasm, but how many see him die?’
Down the river, ebb and flow Movement medicine, the way she goes Directional breath, inbound out Cease to dam, no time for drought She is the tide, low to high On her ship, sailing by Wicked waters, serene seas Sunrise, sunset, peace and ease Floating to sea, where im meant to be Accompanied by my higher self and me Turbulent tides, channel open wide Facing facts, letting go of lies Dolphins diving, staring in my eyes Sonic translation, opening my mind A tug on my leg, 8 arms wrap around Octopus arrives, leading me astound Magical moments, divine intervention Messages come through intuitive intention Coast to coast, sailing away In the depths of myself, I find the way
BELIEVE IN... Believe in the efforts you put, Surprising will be your output. Believe in the prayers you make This lets your conscience awake. Believe in the smile you display Happiness shall form an array. Believe in the help you provide Your problems shall remain aside. Believe in friends you trust Your friendship shall not rust. Believe in the seeds you sow The yield shall be simply a wow. Believe in the words of a teacher His words shall mould your feature. So believe in yourself above all It's human software, all must install. © Tshering Wangchuk 🇧🇹
By the tendril, sunset felt, Like weapons in my belt, Chemistry I can't question, Clarity in my bedtimes. So lovingly I make expressions, Like, at weddings, Desperate for marriage; By the ending, a farewell.
Canon roar, castles go, Grab ahold, gravel road, A rabbit grows, As does his habits, A hobbit grows, Shrinking his jacket. Life a la mode, What matters most, When paddling boats? Loneliness, A partner to boast, Havoc that leaves you alone.