Friday, October 23, 2015

Rain to Joy & Joy to Rain

The grapes are sour, where life was sweet, to grapple with
moods. Its mandolin spikes, for rotten zones, to implode
justice. Thickets are high, to compound briers, an
effulgence of warm tar; and let come the feathers.
            His ache is whetstones, a twist of fate, as majestic
            as internal pressures. It’s the same motif, to claw
            a mudslide, where love wept, a glorious splendor.
Days are welded—to weeping palms, to surface a crucible.
He ponders a marksman, an inward circuit, wreaking
havoc. Such effusion, a cordless tension, as visible as welts.
He sought for grays, to reckon positions, short of an outcome.
            Let the memoir read: “The art is blood, a seismic
            vocation, where souls shatter, to explode in pieces.”
He cringes harshly, to outsoar chains, but ever shackled.
Life is mystique, highs for lows, where extension is life;
thus, for heavy days, followed by jasmine rays; but most
for chaos, a privy event, searching skyward.
            What for earth, a mix of pixels, a grinding torch. So
ensoul a carcass, as anxious as axioms, carving a
skyline; for a peephole is flooded, for nightlong
whimpering. He shimmers in sorrow, infused with
joys, to Frisbee doubts.
He thought for bliss: a flaming séance, a stray cat, a bouquet
of magic. He welled up for iron grays, where love comes
followed by temperaments. Such to cascade, a rainbow of
friction, to charge a soul. Mermaids dance, Retrievers bark,
where joy is palatial. He dropped a tear, to parade unknown,
weary of aftermaths; but something’s encaged, a nature of
frustration, where moods are fleeting. How to enchant a soul:
through chiseled dreams, as tangible as weeping ash?
            Life is paradox, a flint of emotions, nestled near a
            poison tree; but more to love, a passing grief,
shadowed by raining glory; for seashells speak, to call
for calm, where pressure sleeps. So down a fall, to rise
a sky, a lifelong journey; where hearts are sore, for
blazing amore, shredded in parts. He dared a ladder,
to climb for highs, starring at tattered screams; but
this is life, a fleet of cycles, to skyrocket souls. 

PS.

    The strength to withstand the winds; a spell as it effects/affects some creature. A sudden moment filled with absolute certainty, so wro...