Death, Earthly voids & Spiritual quest, Mental Health

At the peak, prana down

The golden threads sunken under my rib cage
A make believe for me to feel less alone
But the truth is a rock face,
And I am climbing it alone
As I feel its colossal presence in my heart,
My yearning feels very small
At the summit,
My fiery phoenix never born
Only a thousand crystal shards
From my solar plexus fall into the icy abyss

Art: Jean Georges

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Death

Strip

Severed from him,
In the grave gaps I’m trapped
The jagged moon rock drags jet black
Like the color of his hair, that my fingers will never wrap
Death…oh woe…the psyche shivers;
So they poured shellac
Bottled away in this thymus madhouse
Anguish is my noun

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Death, Lunar Poems

Blue Bees will not sting

Unless…
Roses in the park,
Shimmer as a string of red pearls slipping down her throat

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In a steel room he held her midst of mercy
Autumn’s arrival at last, the violet petals collapse
He’ll pass through cosmic tunnels
And wear her voice as he nears the moon

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What of it now?
The failure of nerve
We all stand a chance
To be a queen in his eyes
When the suntory claimed the roses as blue

Poem by: NaRa

Art: Blue Bee Image Pinterest, Mark Rothko & Freydoon Rassouli

 

 

 

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