Apocalypse: the unanswered question (not)

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On this touchstone, torch lit night,
vast painted echoes, blue and bright,
are released in the Sun’s explosion of mistrust –

long apt to ignite… sending us back to dust…

 There is silence from the suffers of old,
who now come in from the dextrous cold,
forming porous, multiple, textured lines,
in hues of subtle forms and lies,

inside grand, coarse grained schist
that keeps us from burning warmth and myths,
and who hold this evil darkness over us –
ever at our resting souls.

Should we be so bold?
What does this all mean,
‘never to be cold?’
But, fiercely, we are armed still,
but, sadly, tis only with misery.

I must not wonder –
as I wonder most of all –
what the future,
and destiny
has in store for us all.

And I must not venture,
as I must not stray and fall.
Is this really
Heaven?
Has any of it been real at all?

Red Dust En Masse

En Masse

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A quiet bake off –
shades of amber
under scorching sun,
are strewn in the dirt

as the skies relent,
a tumult of steel drills
dive into parched clay,

exploding ant relays
are left for dead
whilst treading water.

Raindrops reach for the red dust,
butterflies frantically tango –
jazzing the mid air –

taking hits like bullets
on this fresh, new day.
Changes come with new rain,

warm blood runs in rivulets
merging with the ruddy soil
where no change brings real bullets

driven by merciless, greedy hoards,
hitting sentient, voiceless creatures –
leaving them for dead.

Stealthily, their souls are stolen –
trophies and trinkets are carved
into fractal nightmares.

Thieves in the night
make days on soft, Serengeti plains
the longest nights of their lives.

We are the change that overshadow
fresh rains, driven by greed and guns –
with not enough room to move –

not enough money to lust after,
we need more, and more –
so we make their blood run –

we make it run until
carmine shades, under scorching sun,
are strewn in the dirt,

These long, long nights
are never ending, and will be the end
of their world… today.

Honeycomb

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Thank you, The Photo Nomad for the picture.

A sticky, ushering sunset frames the silhouettes
of men and boys, cloaking their exhausted
and hungry bodies.  Shirts hang limply
from their worn hands – dragging
the rich golden sand at their bare feet –
collecting shells and copious fragments of life
washed up and forgotten onto the
grains of twinkling gold that speckle the
the rich shoreline.
Viscose awnings plied to strong timber arms
still billow wearily in the dying winds –
nets and gossamer strands drape
the spears of stilled masts triumphant stakes
away in the shallow distance.
Wading ankle deep in idle chatter,
tired eyes squint to admire the hushed glow
of twilight colours on a dusty, hazy day;
though muted and subdued they herald the dreams
to follow amid the quiet of the sea breeze’s bronze air.

Sunset Senses

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I smile at sunset’s throng of small songbirds
singing out while nuzzling their nested fauna,
dreamily chirping ‘til sleep stills them.
Resting in treetops higher than dusk,
but still lower than the scattering raindrops,
they are held firmly by devoted arms that reach
forever into the night, soaring upward
to heaven to sleep there ’til dawn.

I see long, last looks from the sky
before unused clouds crawl along alone
into dark slumber where dreams wait to explode.
Glancing at the flowers’ closed petals
in graceful sleep, the moon casts a shadow
on their last blushes as the day grows weary;
their scent lingers freely and comes closer
to me through the tranquil grace of nightfall,
and we walk hand in hand through the garden
at this quiet time.

I hear the tinkling of ivory
from the stream playing right underneath
my window as it wends its weary way into the
night, moving freely in its dream state;
asleep already but forever moving
closer to a new dawn in another
world somewhere out there and beyond
our scope – to bask always in moonlight’s
infinite pond.

I love the setting of the sun as she lays
out her golden robes; all too soon she will
adorn them once more, but for now she rests
and allows the beauty of a silver face to watch
over us in the darkness. Once inside the night,
the moon caresses the tips of nightfall wherever
it touches and we all slip silently into sleep.
If we’re lucky we soar high and meet
the heavens in our dreams and wake to live
them a thousandfold once daylight’s
waking moment’s blossom.

Stargazing #DailyHaikuChallenge

1486722717972Picture: The Hoodwitch

Astronomical
Phantasmagorical show
Earth and moon play hide

Day 115/365 Morgan’s #DailyHaikuChallenge. Join in and link back to her blog

It says here…

11/2/2017 Lunar eclipse: Not to be confused with a solar eclipse – lunar eclipses occur when the sun, Earth, and moon line up. When the Earth aligns in front of the sun, the moon is covered in a shadow, which makes it appear red.