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ryan  May 2014
Moonlit
ryan May 2014
I kissed the moon
In purple glow

Her fingers, white beams
Licked my face

Not even Garuda
Could shroud Twi in

I was a tide
She pulled to her chest

We encompass
Then we wane

As the church bells
Ring out

She sings her songs
To slip herself down below the horizon

Behind the Gothics and willows
That point to her window

Where I find her
Tomorrow
**** my heart, inject me with purple darts
painted by Da Vinci  murdered by a work of art
breaking bars,
jammed my hands through broken shards.
****** by eternity,
the monster that came back from shaking mars.
doomed and colossus, middle of the mosh pit
I live for the funerals and party with the Gothics.

Tasting the hatred, who knew love was the flavor
cries as time flies, spits in the night sky
boiling our emotions, our love drowned in the tide.
dowsed in turpentine, serpents hiss down our spines,
lasers set to ****, ideas are nautiluss
the precious rapture precedes to rage on our kind.

The sun becomes the hottest
when power becomes modest.
reality for the fiction
more gifts for the gifted
everyday lost until the power levels shifted
weird, lost, and strange
most recognized of misfits.
killing off the normal to become different
one more guest to become a witness.
Satsih Verma Sep 2022
Between lie and truth, let
me celebrate my mindset after killing my
consciousness, I am going to become a vagabond.

The artless love freaks out.
There was always a full stop after the
moon's death. Do you hear the weird thing?

History walks again on the sun path.
Between blood and bones of faith, war begins.
The myth will not explain the unexplained.
Ileana Amara Jun 2020
๐ผ'๐‘š ๐‘‘๐‘Ÿ๐‘–๐‘“๐‘ก๐‘–๐‘›' ๐‘–๐‘› ๐‘กโ„Ž๐‘’ ๐‘‘๐‘’๐‘’๐‘, ๐‘ก๐‘Ÿ๐‘ฆ๐‘–๐‘›' ๐‘ก๐‘œ ๐‘“๐‘–๐‘›๐‘‘ ๐‘Ž ๐‘ค๐‘Ž๐‘ฆ โ„Ž๐‘œ๐‘š๐‘’
hold me close, I don't want to feel in love yet alone
a tattered young soul, dressed in sad monochrome

๐ท๐‘Ÿ๐‘–๐‘ฃ๐‘–๐‘›' ๐‘กโ„Ž๐‘Ÿ๐‘œ๐‘ข๐‘”โ„Ž ๐‘กโ„Ž๐‘’ ๐‘ ๐‘ก๐‘Ÿ๐‘’๐‘’๐‘ก๐‘ , ๐‘›๐‘œ๐‘คโ„Ž๐‘’๐‘Ÿ๐‘’ ๐ผ ๐‘ค๐‘Ž๐‘›๐‘›๐‘Ž ๐‘”๐‘œ
feeling lost, counting streetlights as the wind blow
perhaps on a midnight search of a heart's afterglow

๐น๐‘’๐‘™๐‘ก ๐‘™๐‘–๐‘˜๐‘’ ๐‘Ž๐‘™๐‘™ ๐ผ ๐‘›๐‘’๐‘’๐‘‘ ๐‘–๐‘  โ„Ž๐‘œ๐‘ค ๐ผ โ„Ž๐‘Ž๐‘‘ ๐‘–๐‘ก ๐‘๐‘’๐‘“๐‘œ๐‘Ÿ๐‘’
breathing in love as romantic gothics fell on the floor
tired eyes of a restless lover fighting a nonsense war

๐‘‡โ„Ž๐‘œ๐‘ข๐‘”โ„Ž๐‘ก ๐‘กโ„Ž๐‘Ž๐‘ก ๐ผ'๐‘‘ ๐‘“๐‘’๐‘’๐‘™ ๐‘“๐‘Ÿ๐‘’๐‘’ ๐‘๐‘ข๐‘ก ๐‘กโ„Ž๐‘’ ๐‘“๐‘Ÿ๐‘’๐‘’๐‘‘๐‘œ๐‘š ๐‘๐‘œ๐‘š๐‘’๐‘  ๐‘ ๐‘™๐‘œ๐‘ค
but all good and worthy things come after a beautiful woe
caressed my wounds and scars, from where flowers grow.

IA
Inspired by the song "Leaning on Myself" // Anna of the North.

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