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, love

Resting Endearment

 

Confluent in my mouth,
Tonight I taste the turmeric essence of
Everything you told

That endearing echo remains
The nickname that gave
Oh “little one, little one”
Eventually must age
And
The thread frays

Like an untouchable
Covered in ashes of the thousands
From the same fire of the pyre
An atlas, we all must toil

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Art by: Gregory Colbert

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Buddhism, Kryptonite, love, Mental Health

Caution Tells

Not for the faint of the heart,
To lean into the longing
The heavy metallic dust
In the moonlit misery
I see it now,
The “Golden Girl” with
Obscure passion towards the seductive thread
Of a strayed friend

With dread,
I’m pierced into these toxic platitudes
Yet, my heart races for that final rest
Pumping red
Pulsating in my head

Have favor in me red
Even though their love will never come
Please don’t close the valves

Om Tare Tuttare Ture Soha

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Imprints, Music 🎶

Imprints: Dolores O’Riordan

I love what her music always resonated in my soul. As a teenager, many nights when I couldn’t articulate my despair, my depression…
I would replay her songs over and over. Artist like her made me feel less alienated to these contorted emotions.
I know she suffered with bipolar depression as I do and many others. And it is heartbreaking. I (we) do not know how she died. But we know a bit on how she lived. And it was through making beautiful songs with her soaring Irish voice, that cuts through to clarity in a day gone bad.
These are only a few of my favorite songs.

RIP Dolores O’Riordan 💔

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Collaborative poems, Earthly voids & Spiritual quest

Solar Cradle Soul

 Collaboration with Havoc and Consequence

Our burning photospheres
Once sprung forth to their highest peaks
The Sequoioideae of space, marvelling at our lofty heights
Yet a ruin grows in our binary bark
Threatening such chaos and calamity
Inevitably to be pulled into a great nebulous stir
Overcome by the tug of war
Of fighting zodiacs and the duplicity of time
The catastrophic collapse swell into the blossomed nova waves
An ethereal outreach on god’s fingertips

As our space sediments
Brought by stellar winds
Found their way to this cooling valley
Where we rose to life
Spread about on vast lush pastures of complacency
Fertile like the Nile’s riverbed
That stream of thought
Wavering on the edge of existence
Counting the memories as they floated by like clouds
And we began to bottle up and measure time
But our greatest fiction yet was to
Forget our stardust aril souls

But now we feel the metals in our blood
The fetter of cosmonaut coins that rattle in our brain
And that endless acceleration of gravity
The only feeling we allow ourselves
Our whirling fire
The core essence to recall
Orbiting a repose and the quietening of quantum regret
Our sunspots
Imprints as a marriage had once been
A snapshot
Capturing our ultraviolet ascent

Now we wait to be lifted up
Coddled once more in that stellar nursery
Suckling the teat of Shiva
Covered in the interstellar yoke of change

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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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