Crushing hard
Under the Clouds oppressive and unfamiliar weight
The venerable princess moon
Lost it’s edge
Spun backward
To hide behind the weaker light
Of dawn
photo courtesy of:
Tweaked/Original (.t/o.) Est:2020

Crushing hard
Under the Clouds oppressive and unfamiliar weight
The venerable princess moon
Lost it’s edge
Spun backward
To hide behind the weaker light
Of dawn
photo courtesy of:
Tweaked/Original (.t/o.) Est:2020

There is a limit to permissible age
Where vitality’s tooth grows long towards brittle end
Time’s attention turns to serk hardier stock
Auditioning future acts with the carelessness only it can withstand
And we
having indulged a lucid dream of self long enough
Take a seat among the tall grass
Finally stopping to smell the flowers
And feel the sun on our faces
Photo courtesy of Tweaked Original,Est. 2020
Strapped in for another go round in Life’s revolution
Feet dangling above the empty offering of anxiety’s abyss
High atop the windswept sands of time
Anticipating the gut wrench jerk that pulls towards success and failure
A direct path through the space mediocrity fears to travel
Surrounded in singleness by other riders strangely linked
By the will to ride
While others only watch..
Photo courtesy of Tweaked Original,Est 2020
As twilight’s gates open
The Dulcinea of night
Coaxes her sun weary minions to rise
Crickets tune their wings
Calling upon the nocturnal bards and skalds
Who lend their voices to a thousand sounds
Only the batons of the Moon’s rays can conduct
…. Photo courtesy of Tweaked Originals,Est. 2020
Goose flesh tickled chills appeared
As the match’s flame
Touched paper
Consumed
Long before a rescue
Could be launched-
Resurrecting childish hope
Minus the childishness
Of course
And the Hope
Leaving only a pitiful smudge of ash
Where the possibility
Of a beautifully crafted memory
Might once have sought Asylum
Do letters feel the weight of guilt
When they’re twisted into a lie
Or receive salvation from beseeching the lord with prayer
Did they draw straws to see which of them would form a word
So nefarious
Once given voice
No amount of letters can excuse it
Do they grow weary under the glare of judgment they pass so often
Through no fault of their own
What if they gathered in protest
Full of bluster and bluff
Threatening to strike
Forcing a mixture of grotesque pantomime and various scabs and hold outs
To assume their roll
Only to be left speechless
By the voice of a generation
Simply stated:
TBSS SMH LOL
(Photograph courtesy of tweaked/original photos Est:2020)