LishaShun

a small token of kindness ( 21st january 2023 ) 
          
          bruised october, champagne bread; weeping permissions and tightened braids. a mother of brass, windows of pages; ebbs of midnight, divided miseries. 
          
          copper sprain, malachite oxygen; birds of meetings, broken silences. venn of the woods, the wind and the windpipe; foreign vowels, submerged wrinkles. wet crayons, scents of blue; crisp metaphors and pigeon hues. 
          
          palms of desserts, midnight sober; fire that slips, a womb of sonnets. lemonade poems, an annihilating waist; casual grave, a whisper of conclusions. a poet of confessions, a sky of sin; sacred rain, storm antique. 
          
          blurry opals and cigarette soliloquies; swaying septum and a bouquet of tattood ribs. spine of butter, vinegar patio; breastbone shelter, cronus love. white doorstep, a welcome ghost; trees forget leaves, winter shrinks bones. 
           #adropofhumanity 

a small token of kindness (10th january 2023) 
          
          
          collapsed gravity, standing time;  a future unattended, a past repeated. crinkled boats, suffering ink wells; where words end, feelings begin. snow from moon, smudges that sting; the torment of blood a maze refined. 
          
          tree of pain, rehearsed branches of hope; frolicking miracle, a shadow of the banished. cozen jasmine, 
          mutable vases; toes wild, lambent homelessness. mineral cheeks, kiss of citrus; you are fire with flames that hug. 
          
          a galaxy of maple lakes, a century of strings; kite of contact, a warm pendulum. inherent catapult, beauty a candle flicker; an archipelago of petals, a bee of sedation.  tinsels of wisteria, needles of kin; vermillion heaven, welcoming hell. 
          
          frozen spring, olive bricks; swings glaucous, pomegranate unhealthy. conifer vigilant, love that condenses; taj mahal of twilight, a philocalist spirit. never you open before the awaken, a heart that carries orchids; bloom before the broken, the ones who do not know burial. 
           #adropofhumanity 
          
          [ if you wish to read an explanation for this token, please grace my message board with your honoured presence. i assure you it shall be worth your time (: ] 
          

a small token token kindness (01st january 2023)  
          
          steadfast sunsets, crooked mornings; lake a crowd of gleaming mournings. lyrics that burn, bones hopeless; tongue of wind, it rarely stays. a future of magma, temple and cityscape; humans among humans, a home bereft. 
          
          a birth that bleeds, a firmament of fleeting wisps; feet smelling of earth, lips a facade, what we appreciate. filigree like rain, a blush of darker reign; summer distorted, desert a burning lace. panaroma of a kaleidoscope, a bard like grackle; pits of doubt and a park of frission. 
          
          jardin de tuileries, seeds of breezes; memory endearments and waves of freedom. satin scents, devoted petals; barricaded branches and canvas of dripping enchantments. convivial music, lily trenchants; reflective denouements, fulgent waterfalls of wisterias. 
          
          violent fears, chalices of secrets; numbing encouragements,  frosted vanilla. oscillating mountains, cloved cessations; tainted vicolos, bricks of dried redolences. parasols of petrichor, labyrinth of moonflowers; tower of desire, rose precipices. keep a smile, with flowers divine; they grow not on well made roads but through the rough womb of mother earth. 
           #adropofhumanity 

a small token of kindness (22nd december 2022) 
          
          grasp the knuckles, hold fear like gold; there is passion in black, there is a spectrum of truth in all thunders. process the baubles of celebrations tenderly, venture early through mishaps terrible; where one sorrow settles, another blossoms. 
          
          track the flames of joy and homes of tender buttresses; enjoy tunnelling paths like worms, enjoy the sport of fulgence. a rainbow of paroxysms,  with fleeting edges of juvenile feathers; two rights rarely understand one another. 
          
          distinguish snow between its home and the second, what is consumed by it is eaten by another. forge the candelabrum, halt at fatal essences; where a mind breeds heartbeats like cactus water. 
          
          swept by silence, kept by roars; what is a mind then except for a fragment of frosted tomorrow? an envelope ensconced like an island dipped in fever, carriage of blood melted in a tide of camphor. it is rough, it is a battle; what is any weapon inside a cave, a cave of darkness?  
           #adropofhumanity

a small token of kindness (5th november 2022) 
          
          mouth of honesty, bloody honey; ravenous sobriquets, transparent metaphors. panting edicts, divine passages; unambiguous gravity, chaotic muscles. summer hunger, fermenting sun; mullein breaths, fervent dust. metamorphic roads, joyous courage; naked rage and newborn remembrance. 
          
          exuberant mountains, icy bees; conformed pollen, eclipsed wins. clavicle roots, burning prayers; mediocre comfort, hopeful sorrows. web of confidants, shadows of the known; gentle croaks, hesitant murders. mind a wild animal, a forest caged; auroras and sacrifices, reminiscent repercussions. 
          
          bodies of petunias, breathing skins; blood of stories, water of prison. white cotton whispers, kind demons; alchemy of weaknesses, battling questions. sacred dignity, waves of hormones; rituals of october, bargaining autumn. drop by drop, zest of oranges. 
          
          esprit of mother's milk, primal daughters; lust of earth, a shadow pure. work into exhaustion, round the clock and round the ; there is half of hope alive, half of flesh left to strain. cold is the night, still and mellow; cold is the sun that has wrung itself yellow. perhaps the moon curses its cries, hides in lone pain and white sky, for then it is rarely rejected; unlike storms. 
           #adropofhumanity 

a small token of kindness [16th june 2022] 
          
          meshes of moon scattered on the lake, a poet's grave; a wildfire graceful and kissed by rain. 
          soaked youth in yellow twigs; in boots and noons of malicious spring. 
          sweet as chocolate, bitterness subdued; what is this spring but a death that lures? 
          hands of maidens with cherry blossoms, a cure to the eye and a disease to what lays hidden; mind and magic to the world, a golden lung to the forgotten ones. 
          filled with temper, a baby breath against a caterpillar; white linen doused with earth's cold summer. 
          
          part and pardon, wish and risk; a heart that is prisoned in a cage is not worth a heart that battles. 
          lotuses carved on sour tongues, in places of disasters, of deceit; in cities of citrus. 
          place thy feet in armours of cherries, melted crystals and awakened violins. 
          saccharine sea bulbs, choruses of rainbow dancing as a wizard; aiming for the stars, wrists cuffed by freedom. 
          berries smeared with passionate blood, with nutmeg wounds and hazelnut deaths.
          fill the bowl of the ocean, fill it to the brim; what it lacks is present in drops put into humans. 
          what is motherless requires not a different earth; kindness changes not people, but reveals their raw flesh. 
          
          [kindness does not change people; it reveals their raw flesh, their real identity] 
           #adropofhumanity 
          
          

a small token of kindness [12th june 2022]
          
          the night has its shadows, blue and grey; masked in apple's seeds, agony bathed. 
          stand in the route, be miserly in calmness; there is a devil shrouded in an eye's fountains. 
          drift like a white whale, amidst memories; from aches of cure to cures of fantasies. 
          transcend life from that present on fingertips, linger near bones, where art is kismet. 
          hollowed oranges, skins like lotuses; what we wear, we often throw. 
          a poet's backbone, a shark's tale; foam of taste buds lingering as fireflies in a throat. 
          mangoes, possums, bread and butter; a mouth of cicada symphonies, celestial dust. 
          watch the canary, year to year; dirt and snow emotions, cheeks of the earth. 
          
          shabby braids and cicada musings, burrowed sunsets and pastel bones. 
          metallic connections and feathered bangles, heads of spines and littered passages. 
          vines of grapes, of collectibles and peaches; pain of pollen, eclipsed sun and its eight witches. 
          foreign hands, hums of voices barren; silence heavy, storms and curtains. 
          blues of life and blues of disguises, shadows of night veiled by lanterns.
          maps and strangers, shores and shells; rib for a rib, hunt for a hunt; what you had the courage to bring into this world must be allowed to live, dreams or ephialtes. 
           #adropofhumanity 
          
          (if you had the courage to dream of it, by no means do you lack the courage to live it) 

a small token of kindness (3rd November 2021) 
          
          the coat of night is cloaked with crimson dust, the morning dew a signature of its blooming ashes. when the sun awakens, there is an ancient rhyme that spreads; far from irises, free from eclipses. 
          
          moths relinquish in the deserted divinity, life a segment of luxury and wellness. winters brace the emptiness, the soul's hand caresses the twigs of aged pain. skies are dampened with a half of the earth's oceans and the three thousand tears that collide with the moon; like its shadow that glides over the sunflower. 
          
          the brush of baby breaths against the buried memories is similar to the walk of the widow; laden with heaviness irrespective of the bad or good in them. to forget the last summer is a tragedy, to lean into it a forced responsibility. 
          
          where there is monstrosity, there is awareness. everything right is in simplicity; the world a mesh of celebrated complications. crevasses exist, fear a dynamic of every body. what we are most afraid of we must become in order to earn a stature of equilibrium. 
          
          to breathe, one must set aside the burden of living. allow life to be fueled with little. relief is found in emptiness, in nakedness, in raw depth. 
          
          like the sun that chooses to appreciate the littleness of the Earth, we must allow our hearts to explore the chaos of garnet and grapevines. for after all, have our hearts not been moulded but to be little glass ochres of residual sunsets? 
           #adropofhumanity 

a small token of kindness (25th October 2021) 
          
          when the light strikes the earth, like the anthem of fisted floral bows, the world swing itself with the honeysuckles; a place to find a precious breath of garnet breath and an escape from the remorse of the passing tune.
          
          a hopeless mind carves into a sector of amulet-carved sun; where the crimson feet walk with the ocean's tremor. what one finds is nothing but a reminiscent reflection of the steps of the hollowed hearts; a war that had gifted salted delirium and cursed shells of optimistic odes. 
          
          what was deemed impossible by destiny's copper shined organs shall never find an acceptance like the honeyed- colossal raging ribs; a power in the chest, in the crest, like a phantomic barrier. 
          
          but has the world ever bent to rules? what are those sweet asylums to the ones who have drowned to abyss; to the Queen Anne's lace? it has summoned and bowed to night's thicketed crescents. it has pocketed the bones and preserved them in sweet alyssum. the more the earth has fled, the better it has bloomed. 
          
          the sun wanders; claiming the nights and what it holds. cauldron collapses; it is now a being of charmed control. what it cannot brace with its thirty touch, it sanctions with its stretched sobriety. the dagger draws itself against the mother- cloaked soil, spilling the shadows and the shades of the indigo ghosts before it reaches the night in the pearls. 
          
          albeit through a lustre of waves, the sun collapses within the moon's reflection; fever of a longing meet causing a platonic ripple.
          
          nothing quite is impossible. what you wish for can be achieved, whether it be catastrophic magic or fierce tempest of the confederate roses. let your veins run recklessly through the woods. many a life and many a dream have been saved by gracing death like a woodbine's peck; like the sun that closes upon death with the light of Aster. 
           #adropofhumanity 

a small token of kindness (23rd October 2021) 
          
          on the sun, there are dry scratches of the metaphoric fence, the blindfolded eyes that were forced to negotiated with darkness and the marks of hearts that could not sew themselves back to wholes. in the silent sky, there are strips of forbidden letters that dance to kill which appear as falling stars to the naked beings. 
          
          rain embodies itself with the earth, the tragedy of the brown melting into a caramel spring. the sky expands its chest to water tears for the fact that it never has witnessed a sunset; the sin of hardly being able to caress its own cheek, its own features, heavier than regrets. 
          
          to a soul, how much does the window of life sting? to a body of smoke, blood and tears are natural and sunlight an iron cage, in fine leaves and cartilages; a fine November with its enemies. what is blood, but a mixture of fury and future; soaked in harm, made up of pretentious glory.
          
          to live, one must breathe in some place else. in accordance with the sun that escapes from the universe to live on Earth. there is blanket covered hope that has died in dirt, in rocks painted with east coast. the more stars we let go, the more we find. the more wars we survive, the more we unsee the horrors in ourselves. 
          
          the constellations of violets and the collected earth of the stars all synchronise with one another; the bruises like jewels that decorate the knuckles. 
          
          let yourself be consumed by another dynasty, carved into a delicate alabaster of history, like the bones that are formed into galaxies of the soil away from a body of clay and the sun that spills itself into the jugular vein, aside from the horizon's gaze. 
           #adropofhumanity