© Apr. 14, 2017. All Rights Reserved.
Afar from a phenomenal passageway,
There’s a jam-packed
Village where deep lovers decay.
Bushwhacking through the ransacked,
Leaves few, black willow trees
Looming out of the blood-red sky,
Till the egg-white terrains freeze.
War cries! Fire and blood upon a butterfly!
Dusk clouds imprison lightening.
While coquettish doppelgängers manifest.
Prod the heavens. It’s frightening.
Distressed, the villagers are possessed.
Named after clamorous mammals,
They’re scarred hellcats and watchdogs.
Framed with prison numbers as labels,
They abandon miniature analogues,
There’s no comparisons till proven traits.
Most idolize and idle their dreams,
Rejuvenated from recumbent soul mates.
Yet, nothing is what it seems.
The irony in living is daunting;
They fret about temporary flaws,
However, they kiss an unfaithful morning.
Shallow corners pillory permanent laws.
That butterfly smoked a fresh cheroot.
With élan, the wild envied her youth.
Like the last, sweet passion fruit,
She was eyed, but cherished the truth.
She overshadowed a miracle berry.
With no scintilla of lies, she faded.
Once unblemished, but now undersea,
Where blood-red mass invaded.
Years of patient, baffling sunsets,
Hence, beloved, there’s no love like mine.
War proceeds with flashes of silhouettes,
Accompanied by glimmering moonshine.
The minutiae of war is befriending
My heartache with strict commands.
Their limerence faded, but I’m loving.
Dwelling in picturesque dreamlands,
My torturous reveries mock nightmares.
I had alexithymia before eyeing her.
When eyed, I hid my famished stares,
For she was my divine answer.
Such a sweetheart breathes in suavity,
But I shame my soul for doubting
Our togetherness. I’ll caress the azure sea
If I can’t find her. I don’t want a hot spring.
My family were half-buried by the wild;
My friends were consumed wholly.
Yet, I focus on when she smiled,
Giving me heartfelt affection times three.
The villagers’ painstaking pressure to blink
At her reassured me of her power.
They exit a barrelhouse to rethink
Beside a two-story water tower,
Guzzling past the lively hour, pie-eyed.
They’re roughhousing, bruised severely
Like nubivagant grape skin, roadside.
Then, I linger in a bittersweet memory.
Unsullied rivulets trickle down
My cheeks into a sea of water lilies.
Once a ghost town, but now I frown.
Lava leapt and slept on sceneries.
Villagers lack gold mines, but I’m calm.
Disciplined gunpowder kisses the mist
As I have unprecedented qualms.
I deeply desire her and can’t resist.
The raucous wild distracts with poses.
For her, I’ll risk shortcuts. No, I’ll wait.
Villagers join like a bouquet of roses.
I’ve not forgotten my soul mate.
There’s colloquies on crenellations,
And wheelbarrows with spider assaults.
Reminiscence of afrits and mutations,
Dragging her soul nadir with no halts.
Welcoming havens intertwine with hearts.
I’m by my lonesome with eidetic memory
Of her parted, black lips. I wonder if tart.
O’ abreast towers for a callipygian beauty.
How I fancy canoodling with her
While her erubescent cheeks remain.
I’m no studmuffin. I’m a warrior
With excessive pain, so mundane.
My dreamlike companion is nadir,
Dragged under the burdens of tears.
I’ll be a drowning lover with a whisper,
Reviving her, but there’s lost years.
I’m sober with irreparable sorrow.
My misguided breaths are held within
Till my fancied promise of tomorrow.
Thus, I eye my love in Berlin,
From the depths of the sea,
My love’s ascending, but I don’t run.
She gazes into my eyes mysteriously
The villagers eye my beloved companion.
Isaiah Lawrence 