Perfectly Perfect Parallel

The rain falls on the petals,
unable to refrain.
Her softness and fragile charm
carry his outburst of emotions.
The pink plush contains all
he pours out
from the lack of recognition
and the fear of being unloved.

There is always such beauty
in their encounter,
almost like a
perfectly perfect parallel.
There is a sense of safety.
She catches him before he falls.
In return,
the rain’s uncaring always accepts
the petal’s exhilarating bloom
and tarnishing lows.

Soil

I love you
a pure earthy form
When I came into contact with you
my body was purified
my mind was transformed
my soul swelled
and I took root

Preying Love

This is a collaboration with Sana on Ted Bundy and Elizabeth Kloepfer. You may read more about Sana’s wonderful poetry via Instagram @Confessions_of_Sophia

Tiresome
is my around the clock
bloodshed fantasy
You give me relief
like I once was
a new babe
slept in peace
without a worry
in this monochromatic world

A viral contempt 
simmers in the pit of my stomach 
As I lay awake  
and stare at the roof
empty eyes 
died a few months ago 
though your love resides still 
In my chest as I take a pill
through lows and highs 
till my pride denounced my cries
of endless love 
of your name 
Now I am amorphous 
out of love 
The heart is embers 
I carry this emblem 
on the vacant mausoleum
of corpse once called memories

Somthing is off
my solace, my love
You make me edgy
All of a sudden
You are out of my possession
You were once the crib
I returned to
after a blood thirsty hunt
my resting place for reprieve
Now
you are out of reach
You befriended the dandelion
and are madly in love with wine

It wasn’t you
It was obsession
that made me fall in love with
bloodthirsty vampire
Your good boy next door grace
yet you never left a trace
You gnawed, clawed at my soul
It was a total blackout
within and without
When you eerily kissed me
left blood from a killing spree
I was obssessed
I was maybe your next nominee
The back yard echoes your melodies
You were a prodigy
of your world
But I am left with nothing
falling in abyss

Not Quite

The darkened moon
over the slate grey corn field
blanketed their nakedness
In a false sense of hidden pleasure
they were unaware of
the savage slayer

The golden sunrays
across the flxen corn shoots
highlighted his lifelessness
In an unexpected turn of event
the prey rebeled against
the arrogant attacker

Prism

The Living Poetry prompt

he is trapped in a hexagonal prism
it’s not obvious as a hamster wheel
he thinks he is going somewhere
for it stops and starts
at the edges

he wonders
why
he is tired of going uphill
why
he feels nothing at the peak
why
his tomorrow feels just like
yesterday’s old socks

he is trapped to live his life
through the prism of
what he lacks

Lullaby

(Image by Josh Knight)

This poem was first posted on 29 November 2018

rushing rain

twirling dust

wind, the ballerina

orchestrates the masterpiece

consoles my sleepless nights

soothes me with sweet dreams

破天急雨

尘埃降下
婀娜来风
淅沥交响 
昨夜辗转
今宵恬梦

City Rain

Shhh!
Morning glow
Through window panes
Pitter patter pitter patter
The city bathing in rain
Polishing dust off her glowing skin
Tiresome is the watchman captured by cloudburst
Retreating from his misty hazel orbs
Sighing for a sleepless night
Dribble bubble dribble bubble
Faint neon lights
Wake up
Halt!

 

听
窗外
晨曦里
淅淅沥沥
洗涤着城市
好让尘埃松軟
如望雨人的疲憊
消退满眼朦胧
叹一宿无眠
点点滴滴
夜域里
梦外
停

Opposite Genres

Reading biography and erotica
is the polar opposite.
The former
condenses a whole long life
into a bound book.
The later
inflates a five minute act
to an eight pages ramble.

You now see
why I love reading biographies
and
why I feel so ripped off
by erotica.
😁