deepundergroundpoetry.com

Echoes From The Waterloo

Uplifting, making sure you hang on as earth, and time continues to shift            
Parting the wetlands, in the might of his rod            
Getting wet in the rainfalls, twisting in those feel-good pools of desire inclining, ascending yearns            
Spiraling out of control            
You got to have some of that, and souls weakening in the creation            
Falling in rapture, panting to the symphonic cadence            
Baptizing within the formation of my soul            
          
Palm to palm, yes marinate your tongue in my galactic dialect              
Come closer and invest in the hypotheses of your North, let me feel your results drifting down South, your Sun rising in that Eastcoast flair, slipping and sliding, West in the cradle of my soul            
So warm, someone said, butter rum flavored when bowing to console            
Afrocentric animalistic prowling resonating from the loins of jungle heat          
Melaninated men unto the spirit of his visceral        
Black Panther, Black Bear, Black Butterfly, Black Mamba, Black Beetle            
Bathing in my sacred water, go on, and praise your rebirth in its wondrous flow            
Closing my eyes, coveted in sacred hydration of rejuvenation
     
Written by SweetKittyCat5
Published
Author's Note
If there is magic on this planet, it is contained in water.

Loren Eiseley

A Station Break (Posted In 10/2024) please enjoy.
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