dreams

The Colors Swell

What terrors?
surprises us out of our pleasures
Guzzling down demi-gods,
for a chance to walk down
that black opal bridge
Into the portal masterpiece;
a collection of reveries

The bleeding blot comes to me
in a green night
Enveloped in a vibration
A Rothko blur
Move backwards into chatoyancy
Waited eons to be scanned by those eyes
Like magnetic mountains pulled and left fragments of a ship
A fragile line,
as flowers are in the wintertime

The moonglow glittering
A buoyant royal blue
hovering over the golden velvet valley
A drowsy hum
Descending towards the door,
ossia,
Where the heart is full

 

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Relationship

The Surreal Token

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In fields danced
The howling tornadoes
Where did we go?
A voice wearied from
The dark censored hosts

Feeling old, pills were taken
And laughter misplaced,
Into the Samaras box,
Of the museum floor

As moles dream,
Be the world
Be the king
Ruling time’s
Borrowed tempo

Disordered grandeur
A shrouded relief
From the subjective
Neglected overcrusted
Microwaves,
And ignored lint
Covered floors,
To slip on
For divorce is conjured,
Only in the tempest’s mind

What lies ahead?
A tunnel out,
To our 21st century
Artifacts
A layered forest
Of fordite trees
Where you cut off
A piece to keep,
To heal as your
Modern token

Walkin towards
A rosette memory,
Beamin an old song,
From afar,
That you wrote
Underneath a point
Above the dipper
Your veins were a freezin…
“With all the colors in the room,
Why did your’s have to be blue?”

For: Ben
Words: Nara
Art: Lucas Samaras

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