DeathByMuffin

Etched in a wall A dream of beautiful hues Cascades across the thrall Of delicately woven patterns My mind flickers in amazement As images begin to form Among the chaotic movements One by one The figures dance and dance And slowly form into one another And I wonder, just how these came to be For my mind is weary from the begining Is it a dream?

and into the blue and green valleys cascades a sudden red and yellow followed by a flurry of whites and bellows flowers in the skies erupts into courage or perhaps something more mellow again and again these flowers expand into a somber sea go further and further till they are no longer seen though they say it stands for freedom i never care to notice

shrapnel fills her heart in a flurry of orange and white all along her chest are holes emitting a shrill light with a wail her fist strikes down embedding deeply into his face; the stench of sulfur in mind seeping through the plain a beautiful clover erupts

daybreak's warm whisper gushes through nocturnal air attracting sweet rays of immense and rather fine neatly placed floral set in patterns of reds and blues

within the thickening haze a silent nation acts upon bliss upon acts of courage and all other offensive pretenses because beyond the fields of the beautifully colored flowers awaits a monster in the fog that monster is us

her eyes leer over while we cower in fear a gust of wind strikes me hard lashing out in sweet cheer

stop; colors collide and reverberate from the canyons walls, while the distant murmurs smother the silence within the canyon. watch while an eagle soars over, watch as it swiftly goes across the water of the canyons brightly colored walls. listen for it's calls, now erupting from its large beak; faded and weathered. on the canyon floor deep beneath the water sits a fish watching waiting for the eagle to make its move. down swipes the eagle, in a sudden darting motion but the rest of the story is unnecessary considering the eagle died shortly after stop

           her letters drip onto          the pavement in sudden           bursts of shattering glass and melted                  to form the land she now                 uses to float                  upon endless sea of lamentation

Born of his manhood, she arose from the sea Awakening the breasts of all who followed Upon her touch, all life grew into beauty And her passion spread as facades blowing from trees Reach forth and touch her lustful form And gaze into her firm beauty And await for the amorous swarm

Ancient caravan Rides through a dusty haze Stinging sight of sun Sets our skin ablaze Forsaken cities lie ahead Awaiting for our words to shed Forsaken cities lie ahead An old beggar man sighs of dread Traveling along seas of sand Endless waves that echo from our promised lands Forsaken cities lie ahead Awaiting for our words to shed Forsaken cities lie ahead All the towns people now lay dead

My muse is sleeping, but Her dreams keep me moving and Though she's not speaking the Soul-Rhythm keeps grooving. It Takes me to places that Are formed by her choosing, though I have to keep fighting to Keep my head from snoozing. I Don't think I'd worry if I find myself losing, 'cause The place where she's sleeping is Where my heart is cruising                                                                                       To

Sticky-note poem On a refrigerator door Provides fleeting wisdom, Inspiration and more. It is short and concise Small on words and divine 'Cause modern poem-readers Just don't have the time To pause for a moment And take                in                     your                              Rhymes

We're digging mass graves on army bases Smearing mud over innocent faces There is a war within a war A war they won't show on the news Not that that's new… There's a war within a war On International Women's day March 8th I learned about the war for gender equality in the military Rape and sexual assault running rampant among 'battle buddies' Girls won't go to get water alone, A scared sweaty hand clutching switch blade Because you'd never point your gun at a fellow soldier And army of one Fucking itself over Girls won't go alone to get water In 120 degree desert weather or warmer They start to die slowly of dehydration in

And the Nettle Queen, she wove her gown of the greenest tint she'd ever found Prickling and harsh, slipped it on her skin Digging her nails in her peculiar kin Remembrance in her blistered fingers, Salt of tears searing her wounded cheeks She looks down upon the severed stems And feels for those she could have spared For though she is Queen and Cruel and Foe She is also Sister and Lover and Friend Although the latter may yet to be revealed To the eye of life that is left still