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Storyteller

Eyes Closed

When I close my eyes, I see butterflies gliding by, their wings on fire leaving a trail of smoke like a jet on a blue midday sky
I see a ballerina doing a pirouette on broken legs with mangled toes
I see doves with their bodies pure white, dripping crimson red from their garbled wings
I see a rose turn into ice and explode causing the garden to become a colourless wasteland
I see a man’s tongue wrapped around his neck as he garrote on his own half truths.
I see shadows follow the words I love you like angels of the damned as they voorste you to your conscious dissolution.

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POEMS Storyteller

Alone in the Light

Alone in the light with my eyes half closed
An ice sculpture holding solid in the desert
Church bells beckon like a haunting
Melodies in the wind screaming
Thoughts are soldiers marching off to war
Love is on the frontlines forgotten in retrospect
Alone in the light but never seen
A breeze in the still night never felt
A dream with no beginning or ending
Alone in the light having a conversation with the benumbed

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Storyteller

Surface Earth

I was running with my eyes closed and when I opened them I was running on a cloud. With every step, lightening bolts lit up the ocean to its depths, and creatures not seen for million s of years stopped in shock when seeing the destruction that humans have inflected on the surface earth.

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Storyteller

Turned Around

I am flying with fins

Sleeping while crossing the street

Walking with my fingers

Hearing melodies through my eyes

Seeking shelter from the rain with my hair

Uttering sentences backwards to a priest

Sprinting on my knees

This is what the world looks like

When we fight for peace

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Storyteller

The New World

These day, we exist in a culture with vain aspirations

Eagles with wings too heavy to take flight

Sheep with gold nuggets for eyes

Horses with legs too short to gallop.

We are not a reflection of every creature around us

For we are inhibited by our own intelligence

Fooled by our own wisdom

Short changed by cultural structures

Misrepresented by conflicting spirituality.

And yet we keep on believing

While prejudice takes the place of pride

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Storyteller

Those Eyes

Those eyes, like the colour of the Caribbean Sea at midday

Tempting sky blue alight with daydreams

Velvet moon with a silver lining

Raspberry soda pop bubbling

Two petals from a bloom of Love in the mist

Twin Earths twinkling with life

Blue mountain mist in the early morning

Sparkle like a blue fish, right under the surface of the ocean

Brilliant like Blue myth on a rainy day

Those eyes are like swimming a mile in a cool blue lagoon

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POEMS Storyteller

The Boy With The Blue Eyes Artwork by Bonnie Moore Delong

The Boy With The Blue Eyes Artwork by Bonnie More Delong

He laughs so hard he begins to cry

Blueberry nectar across the sky

Giving colour to the Blue Butterfly Bush

Creating innocence in the tropical ocean

And the serenity of the gently swirling lagoon

A world you see from outer space

Crystal blue floating in charcoal mist

They are the sparkle of the mountains of Jamaica

The bloom of bonnet fields in Texas

The peace of the Blue Haze of Medford Oregon

And when they close

The light disappears

And the world goes back to being ordinary

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Pics with verse Storyteller

Nature’s Ego

The night falls with a display never seen before, and never will be seen again. And when mother nature is done showing off, you lay down, close your eyes and succumb to the dreams, because somewhere in there a story needs to be told.

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Storyteller

Last Lick

It was a breezy day, not too hot, just right for a walk, that is why I found myself standing looking up at the Crazy House. I was still wearing my blue shirt and Khaki pants, I did not even go home to change. I knew if I did Mommy Charles would never let come up here to go pick Golden Apples from Miss Hugh’s garden. Here I was, with Trevor and Michael, all three of us too afraid to walk by that building. We heard stories about how the people in that mental hospital would grab children and nobody heard from them again,

“You go first,” Trevor said, pushing Michael,

“Mon you crazy, you belong in dey too if you tink I go walk by dere,” They both turned and looked at me,

“Oh bloody no, yuh tink I want one ah dem come grab me eh?” We stood there looking at the building, it was big, well big for three thirteen year olds. After a few minutes Michael said,

Why don we all go at de same time eh?” Trevor and I nodded and slowly we started walking. I could hear they hears beating, sweat rolled do or faces. We go parallel to the from door and we walked on trying not to look at the building. Suddenly, a man ran out of the building and the chase was on. He was yelling, or was it laughing, I don’t know but it sounded terrifying. Now I was real skinny with big feet and I chose at that moment to be clumsy. I tripped on my big feet. Trevor and Michael did  not stop. So here I was laying on my stomach as the shadow of the man appeared in the road next to me. I turned around, his eyes were read and I swear I saw droll running out the side of his mouth. He stopped, looked at me like I was a mouse and he was the cat, you know that crazed look. Then suddenly his expression changed and he looked normal, like any other adult, he bent over tapped me on the shoulder and said,

“Last Lick,” Then turned and jogged back to the house. I lay there stunned, Trevor and Michael ran back and helped me up. The man stopped in front of the door, waved at us and disappeared inside.

Categories
POEMS Storyteller

Refugee

Every day she fights death
Its promise of peace and quiet
Its offer of being a perfect human being
Every night she sees its red beady eyes
They hover over her like a vulture
Only this vulture is white
Gleaming with false promises
She reaches out and takes it
And slowly pulls it to her mouth
The closer it gets, its form and colour changes
From white to black, two red eyes to one dark eye
The single eye disappear into her mouth
She can feel its cold beak against her tongue
Ahhh, the taste of death pending
Now that’s a familiar feeling
Her heart is racing
Her breath comes in short bursts
Its like that feeling right before orgasm
He he he he he, yeah
Take her to the cloud with the river of milk
Cuddle with her until she is still
Comfort her while her thoughts eat away at her soul
Bury her in a casket full of love and compassion
Bless her with your bible of half truths
Bathe her with your holy water
Watch it turn to blood as it drips down her body
Hmmmmmahhhhh, drain the unhappiness from her spirit
Make her feel no more, make her feel no more