I jealous the peacocks art

Colors, distinct and bright

Wiggle that feathery tail

Walls, align and act

Here lies the pretty dame

Haughty campaign and pranks

Kick on the silly game

Newborns, asleep, awaits

I cherish the Manakins dance

Steps, distinct and light

Move to the soundless beats

Lek, moonwalk and snap

Here sits the nosy judge

Finicky in taste and calm

So much is done for one

Practice indulged years long

I admire the great roadrunners treat

Date, distinct and right

Its either a splendid meal

Or he coos and wag his tail

Don't give up, she might agree

Together, we can forever be

Keep up the classic steel

Gentlemen, the ladies need

I love the superb lyrebirds voice

Songs, distinct and tight

When he grabs the microphone

Techno beats and 80’s Jazz

Beauties from far and wide

Spectate and vote for one

Talents coerced by zeal

Albums, that forever lives

I adore the western grebes ballet

Footworks, distinct and fast

Defying gravities pull

Walking on water Jew

Hydrodynamic lift

Feet slaps and splash

Lets go, it's me and you

Put on your dancing shoes

Reddening thoughts

Cascading in the head

Honing a razors edge

A pounding sledge-

Lying still in thy bed

Primitively adopted

Red seems thy shade

Cowardly by ignorance

Forged for rigidity &

Entirely man made

Clenched teeth

Tightened features

Red-necked beneath

Delighted to meet ya!

Molten red-lava head

Deceptive perception

Prompting vile rhetoric

Even congressionally said

Red Shift!

Hasten thee departure

Please away from me

With your untruths &

All that hypocrisy

Only out to hurt ya

Red-Shift!

Lest it approach

All black & blue

With it’s

Opposing thumbs

Squeezing throats

Compassion drenched in

Their pissy crimson rain

A lobby of

Dark clouds

Over crowds

Up on The Hill

Where policies stain &

Nothing gets changed

So Red-Shift &

Good riddance

Banded

Blues & Independents

And away it goes!

In all it’s fury &

Savage throes

Let’em pray!

Red-Red-Red...

I say...

RED-RED-DEAD!

Patriotic colou

Eye to brain

Decoring allure

For the insane!

A loose tooth

Fast left hook jabbing truth

This ain’t no fuckin game...

Yeah...

Keep it Shifting Red...

Citizens of majority

No longer misled

Misleading you fool

This contrasted hue

Low-toned in full spectrum

Our metaphor ’gainst

Low turn out elections...

Rising mounting tsunami

In all it’s urgency

Back away servile knave

Progressively pave a

Path to every grave

Red-shifting ‘swamped’

Under surging Blue-Waves...

Left mocked as suckers?

And once called Commy

Reds?

Ha!

I laugh at you

In Red...

Are you the latest now-

-Swapping spit & fornicating

In this fascist’s bed?

The gentleness of the rain does nothing to increase its warmth. The sky is leaden gray, and the gathering, though not large, is unnaturally quiet. The birds no longer sing in the trees, and the only sound is the pitter-patter of small cold raindrops, as they fall on black umbrellas and on the thin blue canvas stretched over the mound of dirt next to the hole.

One by one, single red roses are laid atop the little white casket. The rose petals are being stripped from the flowers by the rain, and as they tumble they leave thin red streaks down the sides of the tiny box that now holds a piece of my soul.

My heart now has a cavity that will never be filled, and I understand what real loss is, and a pain that no parent or grandparent should ever have to endure.

“The only thing harder to endure than the absence of your presence, is the enduring presence of your absence.”

-- Grandpa loves you little boy . . . forever.

A girl with her head high

with control

over her world,

a girl with a path

a way carved out for her.

A girl who never wandered,

who never tasted the folds and wrinkles

of the world,

reserved for the invisible,

the lost.

A girl who knows

who she is

and where she's going,

a girl not the least bit lost

a girl I dream of being.

. . .but then again,

maybe not.

Calm, yet bold.

Cautious, yet deadly.

One slithers,

one plans deceit.

One survives.

One never dies.

One forages for food,

one preys on innocence.

One can kill,

one ruins lives.

One adapts to natue,

one adapts to self-need.

One commits no human crime,

one is without human emotion.

Does one know the concept of love?

One laughs at its very concept.

One will one day die,

one lives on forever.

... and the one who slithers into your life,

... is the midnight madness of your mind.

Gnawed off finger nails

Chewed, punctured skin around worn nails

Now bleeding and blistering in pain

It doesn’t cease the worrying

But the anxiety now

Is far less plain

It determines the shape of clouds and of sand dunes. It decides how the windmills turn, where the blades of grass point. It disappears into open portals, finds its way to the other side. A thief that misplaces things, a mischief-maker that hides in ostensibly empty spaces.

The chill on your skin, the bounce in your hair. The path of a tumbleweed, and the music in bamboo shoots.

Breeze. Wind. Air.

#streamofconsciousness #prose #amwriting

Lizzi Potts, I swear.

Lizzi Potts, I'm begging for air.

Lizzi Potts, they just stare.

Lizzi Potts, what is your game?

Lizzi Potts, such a name.

Lizzi Potts, you have the fame.

Lizzi Potts, I don't need to acclaim.

Lizzi Potts, I wish I could touch.

Lizzi Potts, I wish I could hold you in my clutch.

Lizzi Potts, you're the world,

but there is no need for much.

{tags: #LizziPotts

#beauty

#challenge }

I sat and watched

the desolation of the night

evolve into the soft morning.

I turned my face to the sun

and saw the shadows

fall like sheets behind me.

The grimness of the past

was but one minute

in my cascading life.

The manner in which

I coped with the past

made the difference

and the tide turned,

the world didn’t end.

I left the bad tremors

in a heap

of nonchalance

and shucked

my caterpillar husk

allowing my

inner butterfly

to soar free into

the pink clouds

of grace.

Black crows ceased listening

to songs without truth,

which hung for too long

on clothesline of despair

beyond feathered reach,

hidden among bruises

of empty caws.

Death rattle stilled

crows’ faltering hearts

on barren branches.

Penetrating dagger

slew hollow bony chest

as they moaned

and stared

at bottomless destiny.

Beaks grabbed fistfuls of

shattered pieces

and ran parallel

to lightning strikes

beyond dark grasp.

Birds broke

empty death silence

to be heard

above the call

of dying mates.

Tears glistened

on stitched faces

as crows turned backs

on tainted life,

fleeing toward

refuge of

harboring moon.

#Challenge #MurderOfCrows #EmptyDeathSilence