Overlooking The Pink And Purple Skies Over Calabassas.
Your Brown Skin, Earth Like Refinement
In Your Teasing Molasses Scent.
It's The Season Of Love and You Were Scared That The Bug Might Pass Us.
That We Might Just Be Able To Dwell In Our Lonesome Instead Of Seeking Shelter In Each Other.
We Should Rent.
For You and Me, Already Have One Foot Out The Door.
There's A Lot More,
We Can Explore That If You Are Sure.
I Am Sure That Tour Would End Like The Titanic.
On The Deck, You Would Spread Your Wings and Catch A Wiff Of Independence.
I Would See It In Yours When We Dance.
For In Your Eyes, The Glimmer Of Hope That Shimmered Would Be Extinguished.
There Goes My Chance.
I Should Strap On My Pants
And Get On My Bike,
Peddle Away From You Because The Pain You Caused Only Manifested Into A Hatred For The World.
A World Of Cheats.
A World Of Lance Armstrongs.
But I Have The Knowledge That Life Is A Matter Of Heats.
And That A Right Isn't Created By Two Wrongs.
So I Stay,
We Are Under The Assumption The Heavens Are In The Skies,
But I Am Down To Earth Baby,
For Putting My Head In Skies Is A Risky Maybe.
For That's The Realm Of Sweet Nothing and Lies.
But It's In The Realm In Which Hope Trickles Down Onto The World As Rain,
It Sets My Roots Down,
And Let's Your Stem Grow.
For I Don't Think You Are Heavenly Sent,
The Way Your Petals Reach Up High When The Wind Blows, Shows That Intrinsically You Are Of This World.
But Not In This Mould
My Faith In You Is Bold.
It's Your Platform.
It's Your Pedestal.
For Which Upon Your Perch You May Stand Tall, And Savour All.,
As I Suffocate In Buried Flora, As You Don't Pay Heed To My Selfless Call.
YOU ARE READING
THE IMPROMPTU MANIFEST.
Poetry" SPARK!" Poems Of Utter Spontaneity. The Raw and Unfiltered Emotion Of Living Life Without Cuffs and With Your Heart On Your Sleeve. The Pushing Of Intuition Into The Everyday World. Let It Flow. Let It Flow. And Let Words Spark Life To LIFE.
