Venus of Your Coldest Desire

Self loathing for feeling like a king

Inside a dream only meant for a kid

Not only does your sharp tongue sting

It's poison like an arachnid.

 

But I can't compete with a tiger who has blazing eyes

Was I bait to be pulled in? Or was it stupid to trust?           

Lips crash like the Atlantic and Pacific tides

 

Your skin.

So blue.

So glass like

Too fragile for even the clouds’ cotton candy tears tear

The fluff falls for four feminine faces facing furious fates

Gladys goes galumphing gladly

 

All patterns aside it's torn to pieces

Base rock has been washed and crumbled by the

great lochs

 

The man who built his house on the hard and high rock laughs at the poor man on the sand as he watches him drown in God's fury.

 

Little does he know lighting strikes at higher altitudes

 

Bubbles tickle my lungs and pop in my throat

The sun blinds me as I pick the palest of yellow flowers in the breezy ocean of shiny glass

blades

A brown leaf crunches satisfyingly under my bare foot.  

It's remnants stick to my toes like glue.

Florence proves me wrong once again as she sprinkles specks of

opal and tanzanite

on a bush of navy blue berries

With a flash I send colorful pastel ribbons soaring through the indigo sky.

Once the ribbons have fallen back

the hummingbird has finished

poking holes in the blanket of

the night.

MY MOTHER BECKONS ME  

My three eyes

count the billions of spectral children Naturaleza has birthed.  

 

Big eyed creatures, seeking warmth, surround my radioactive body.

My eyes fill with the sights of the northern lights

Wisps of green, and tinges of blue dance with my dreams in the late April sky

Buttons popped, while sand filled my bag                             It's crashing noise sent the ravens away

The lagoon of knee deep water stood still as its mother roared twenty feet away. We stood to the left side and we're knocked on the right

His canvas was adorned in a splash of red. His arm behold art. Brown swaying locks, and .

lingering eyes. Elbows propped the sharp face up.  

Water mixed with the seed of poseidon and collected in a marvelous flair and rushed up to my

body. I'm gonna leave my body                         Moving up to higher ground.  

I'm gonna lose his soul.  This river keeps  pulling me down.  

Curls form on my head and salt dries  

my lips  

The sharp faced man with canvases for arms reaches into his pocket and empties out the sand

Cardboard and plastic rinse up onto the warm white minerals of Poseidon’s porch. The shore

gleams like a first kiss  

In a fall afternoon after church.

On a Thursday.   

 

This poem is about: 
Me
My community
My country
Our world
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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