Beyond the pale aura
of a full moon high,
I found my own vocation,...
Our dap ascension fell in love
and it is here I linger,
My red-stained lips pressed to your mouth
spell you in dreams upon my pillow,
A ride not for the faint,
this sweet bloodletting grind
is how we make it; Love -
There is one ride...
One ride at a time, yet
My restless mind insists on moving faster,
Surfing new syllable seas and waves of words
Just when I think the last is real,
It’s odd
This too, was the calling of my father
Dying like an art as a very young man,
My mirror thinks of him,
Screams, at times,
His silence somehow louder
than my mother’s song,
So I listen in earnest for the light,
I taste the grape of my soul
And I write -
Cradled in rollercoasters
of hope, to bloom like Monet,
Harlem like Hughes
And frighten like Poe
© 2009-2014 Arkay Evans
of a full moon high,
I found my own vocation,...
Our dap ascension fell in love
and it is here I linger,
My red-stained lips pressed to your mouth
spell you in dreams upon my pillow,
A ride not for the faint,
this sweet bloodletting grind
is how we make it; Love -
There is one ride...
One ride at a time, yet
My restless mind insists on moving faster,
Surfing new syllable seas and waves of words
Just when I think the last is real,
It’s odd
This too, was the calling of my father
Dying like an art as a very young man,
My mirror thinks of him,
Screams, at times,
His silence somehow louder
than my mother’s song,
So I listen in earnest for the light,
I taste the grape of my soul
And I write -
Cradled in rollercoasters
of hope, to bloom like Monet,
Harlem like Hughes
And frighten like Poe
© 2009-2014 Arkay Evans
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