PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Not a doomsday
O hardened life, I cannot
read you like a Rosetta stone.

You walk under
Jacarandas to become purplish
blue without moony touch.

The scented air
brings meltdown, I rise
the candle to count the tears.

A trembling prayer
dries on your lips. A university
of love burns in eyes.

An orange color
abducts the clouds for a forced
marriage with sun.

O narcissist, would you go
above the moon, if I want to sleep
in the flames of invisible stars?

Who gives light without
pregnancy to new gods and installs
aerial temples of broken hearts?

The killing has a moon
face. I will bring corn fever to
gnaw the legs of falling truths.

Sending a message to you
entering your flesh, I become a visionary.
Can you tell me where the tears live?

The wheels move to pull
up the clotted blood of your chest.
Were you crying secretly?

Believing in truth you
burn your hands. I want to smell
your scented breath. Don't go in fog.

The wreckage of old
hurricane carries the culture of
memorial stop. The water will start rituals.

When do I speak the
truth on point that you go to read
Gita? But why does the mirror crack?

Pain was racial. The
shadow changes the profile. The dead
bones become alive in the rains.

When your faith reveres
a pagoda, I become Buddha, and
I am ready to leave the palace,

Talking to my ancestor
I open the book of flames, when a ghost
lady burns herself alive to pay homage.

If you are truthful, I will
place commas again and again
before making you a goddess.

This was the treatment.
You were not interested in giving
the answers, while stepping down in water.

Something falls to tell. It has
brought the recession into our eyes.
Can you see beyond the horizon?

And the excellent result
of selling the death of last truths
making you rich. Why god will never laugh?

I will search you in
moonless nights by poem power
to locate your golden words.

Between a thing and thang
thoughts come. The long arms of
adoration do not want to kill unspoken love,

The arrival of the moon cools
the burning questions in my fists.
I will not say why I was red.

Every star wants to become
a Sappho. I sit in the dark to listen to an
intruder. How long you will not sleep?

The savage has no
prudence. You will not bring a smile
on my face. Who was killing a killer?

This was an epic torture.
I will give you a kiss of venom.
There was no death, no living.

In a ring of fire, you
drink from my hands. Are you happy?
I asked my lover one day.

It is very easy to blame.
I try to make you forget your wounds
Stop the murder of dreams.

Where was the pond of
blood? I want to count the nails
and invite rare amnesia.