deepundergroundpoetry.com
Inklings III...
scrabbling on my slate
scraping stars
into the pitch purple night
shattering through opaque
aching scars
that blur my sight
to see the dawn
break over the horizon
over broken soil
vineyards spawn
dimensions rising
awoken from my oil
folding the paper
into metaphors and similes
inhaling breath of life
holding the vapor
cue a barren poor land to brim lilies
prevailing death and strife
crossroads connect
with parallel lines
that denote and blend
from ink I select
with pastels of time
and scenes floating in
my gilded mind frame
as my pen nails the picture
inside your skull
building into a hurricane
my stick stir
leaving tides to mull...
scraping stars
into the pitch purple night
shattering through opaque
aching scars
that blur my sight
to see the dawn
break over the horizon
over broken soil
vineyards spawn
dimensions rising
awoken from my oil
folding the paper
into metaphors and similes
inhaling breath of life
holding the vapor
cue a barren poor land to brim lilies
prevailing death and strife
crossroads connect
with parallel lines
that denote and blend
from ink I select
with pastels of time
and scenes floating in
my gilded mind frame
as my pen nails the picture
inside your skull
building into a hurricane
my stick stir
leaving tides to mull...
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