sink.
fall.
fly.
sing.
life, unabated.
soul,
overrated.
Author: nomisyar
I collect Spores, Molds, and Fungus.
shush
whisper once
and hear
this soul echo
and ache.
whisper twice
and see
love cry.
whisper again
and feel
infinity slip
into a memory
no title
anonymity masquerading as solitude.
fear,
tiptoeing
on hope’s serrated edge.
and we
drown
in a flood of famished desire.
decadent
in our deprivation.
my mango
summer’s lust captured
in the palm of my hand.
orange flames licking
lips
and cheek and chin.
My Messy Magical Mojo Maker
deeper
precious grace
made obsolete
by the vulgar mastications
of the vigorously masturbated masses.
this bleeding jewel-
soul’s fire,
given freely
and
enthusiastically,
is all i have to give.
is all,
that i am.
a whispered diamond that cuts
deep.
pause (iv)
cloud break; time
shift
bring more nether
in which
we lose ourselves.
i step securely upon wisps
of desire
and sink
so low
into your celestial wonder-
to pause again,
gasping,
for milk
and
honey.
and the rain falls
again
gently caressing
these expectant lips.
symphony of one
lost among these branches
i see naught
but what is.
Not another trembling
spirit in sight
none but but me.
i long not
for another:
this,
is my story.
i want not
for company:
here,
I am free.
the wind gusts pityingly
through the tatters of ego.
I feel
Everything,
and
Nothing knows me.
salamander blues
dampened peregrinations
under winter scented showers.
seeking truth
from these endless
traverses:
crossroads of the then,
and the now.
and Fate
rolls on
incessant,
flashing, with epiphanous finality.
my rorschach,
now a gift
to you….
may your revelation
lead you home.
final destinations
walking this road – it seems
to nowhere,
may just lead you
to everything you never knew
you needed.
life’s beauty
shared, through the angel wings
of our very being:
every experience,
every victory,
every loss:
every one, a beat of your wings-
brushing gently
on the soul of one in need.
so, live LARGE
&
live strong.
and you will feel the sweet touch
of angel wings…..
from the many angels you lifted
by living your song.
the journey is only just begun.
come and fly with us.
we are not alone.
calor da lua
the tingling, stinging frost that rips my skin
belies the blistering heat
flowing from a soul afire.
bathe me in your grace,
as I writhe idolatrous,
drowned in our pleasure:
devouring your succor;
hungering for more.
theDeprevation 