and suddenly,
one wonders
how
a smile
has not always been
there…
I mean – here.
right
here,
deep in the heart of
me.
Thank you Universe.
now,
come dance.
come dance with
me.
Author: nomisyar
I collect Spores, Molds, and Fungus.
Zenith
below,
between blades of grass
and goose shit
are the dreams of yesteryear.
behind,
in the east,
Destiny’s scourge awaits,
illuminating time mispent.
the sins of inaction
and fear
sully all glory achieved.
and I sink.
to rise again?
Waiting (iii)
Autumn’s soft moonbeams
tickle my eyes and
splash
across black skin.
beauteous, righteous
Horus-
without one houri.
planets and stars vie, but
my Moon swings
softly through the night sky
with a Queen’s grace,
seeking
me.
listen
silence calls to me
and
a gentle stirring
rolls
in my chest.
coy laughter
and a shy smile
harmonize quietly
in my surrender
lost in this symphony
of love
are memories
of sweet release.
my gorgeous Muse,
I’ve found you again
in my solitude.
summer’s end: letting go
air ripe
with dragonfly
and pugnacious
blossom scent;
sun
rains
fiercely
upon my skin;
like the torch
borne for love
recently
departed:
not so gentle
will Summer
slip
into
Winter’s dark,
calming night.
roundabout
sifting through Infinity’s
pockets,
over and over,
and
over again, I find
you.
i find you
laughing.
and
i find
you crying.
i find you giggling with glee.
so much vibrance,
absent of me.
so
i find my own pockets
and continue.
life awaits,
without you.
Limes and Lemons
zest deez!
I hate zesting.
how is such a wonderful word like “zest” tied up and twisted with, arguably, the worst aspect of prepping a meal?
I really
hate
zesting.
!
blind, deaf and numb
you have no eyes
and you read,
but do you see?
ear drums ruptured
by the chorus of lies:
you listen,
but do not hear
me.
step away dear,
please.
cuz you don’t,
no,
you won’t,
understand.
I care about,
but
have no time
for, your doubts.
shit’s moovin’
free people are groovin’
and I gots work to do.
deuces.
Bric à brac leaves the heart no slack
mementos,
receipts,
and
little shopping bags
remind
of a love
that traveled on.
more poignant than all the words
scratched to each other with love,
a morrisons bag
kicks me in the gut.
the past has passed,
no doubt;
but in constant refrain,
nostalgia digs
with the sweetest pain.
life
is
gorgeous-
The Universe, divine.
To have loved was a gift,
both hers,
and
mine.
Instruction In Artful Deviancy
Slipped,
between
creased corners
of Night’s gossamer,
Moon,
timid & shy,
slips
softly
in –
which hour,
come,
and
gone,
shall magic
come
again?
wicked
wholesome deeds await
lovers,
and children,
and all that fall between.
Come
&
Fly,
my little devil,
Heaven awaits.
theDeprevation 