May 18, 2012

Born To Scribe



Unearthly influences, touch the skirt
of Egyptian pyramids.
Visions of graceful imagery arise
in the satin light,
publishing truths,
dear to my soul,
tenderly stitched,
like palm lines,
indentured within me.

I joy and thrive as the bride
ready to wed.
In the exterior, interior of inking froth.
I seize the sheen in artistic stars,
as I proceed to claim you for myself.
Beyond the barren echos...
The sound in massive crowd...
We eventually became royally crowned.
I scribe.
I purge aloud.

And wet my leg fingers
until they become sleek black.
Ears open to pleasure,
listening to our ballad; a youthful composure
like fresh garden salad.
like verses syncing with Epimethius
gaining our momentum
as the sacred cast a born realism.

My lips are mute; I let go of the balloons.
So elegant and pure as you and I.
You led me into my destined journey.
I followed with a heart of a lioness.
Discovery is possible.
We are proof of this precious alliance.


 jhp©2011-2012



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