The children of morrow they will run in the wild

The children of morrow they will run in the wild

20 August 2016

Crimson fields ygritte_by_aniamitura-d6jd03x
Courtesy aniamitura-d6jd03x on deviantart.com

 

Now gone the attorney good riddance to all thrall

The chambers are stagnant the judges are silent

Corruption is rampant justice absence strident

Tongues of poets ferny with a lisp to enthrall

 

When stretched on a gurney with no love to recall

The moments then vacant no solace can present

Like death of a vagrant with no soul to lament

The end of the journey as the wild creatures call

 

New Times will come starker Mark my voice come hither

The sun hides in sorrow forgotten shadows’ child

The prairies are darker when the flowers wither

 

The hare leaves its burrow by the stillness beguiled

The venom’s the marker as the charmers slither

The children of morrow they will run in the wild

 

Reading of the poem: 

greener alternativeart com
Courtesy alternativeart.com

Pa Bailar (Bailarin en el Tren) – Bajofondo

Zitarrosa – Bajofondo

Infiltrado – Bajofondo

 

The grass was greener

The grass was greener

20 August 2016

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Courtesy tryskell-d99kjln on deviantart.com

 

She looked across the battered fields lying scorched by the heat around her frame in veils. From afar came its glint, shining eerily under the summer sun. So infused with more than just a hint of light she felt she should run towards it for it looked so beautifully green, it was almost lime-like in its iridescent sheen. She imagined the dewdrops painting life-like shadows alongside the blades of grass, twirling with these latter in those meadows a long-forgotten dance. She could almost sense the hum of the grasshoppers, the sound of brass invading her mind with their invitation to prance.

 

An arm brushing past hers tore her thoughts away from that beautiful island and its mighty sway. The field around her was buzzing in glee with grey-faced workers in neat rows of three attempting so desperately to instill some life back into the withered plants going downhill. The water ran from their giant cans dark, muddy and lifeless, not even a spark. She watched them smother rather than water the field as more sand and dirt was all the cans would yield. Here and there some poppies had survived, their wild nature breaking free revived by the view of the skies from the murky lands ties.

 

It was the bluebells that withered the most. Their head hung, their face downcast, they looked like this time they would never last. The secular trees of themselves a ghost looked over the horizons, a sight only they could boast and realised that perhaps this was the last year they would play host to the hundreds of bluebirds that on their branches found outpost to watch the first sunrise. Suddenly a ray split the skies and onward came rains of the most frightful might. To the field workers they were though the most beautiful sight as they gathered out of ranks not bothering how offering to the rain their weather-beaten brow as it washed away the mud. The oldest of trees came down with a thud and as the land under it drank the rain a damp and soon mossy stance took over its grounds again and again and again.

 

She looked across the reddened field to the brink of where her sight would yield. She looked back to the moss growing on that new land. Its glint was known to her not a new brand. Both far and near she could see it so clear.

 

The grass was greener.

 

Reading of the short story: 

greener deviantart com 4
Courtesy deviantart.com

Green…The Colour of Evolution – Yakuro

 

Diversion

Diversion

20 August 2016

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Courtesy pinterest.com

 

Diversion

Entertainment bleak

Entrainment

Of the mind

The distractions that we seek

World lost in background

 

Diversion

Tactical motion

Switching lanes

Harvesting

The end result of our pains

The mind occupied

 

Diversion

Children of the Sun

In circles

How they run

The sand master outruns them

Their lives now mayhem

 

Diversion

Shifting of the poles

Frantic move

Without groove

Quickly inverting the roles

The black for the white

 

Diversion

Preoccupation

In the past

Cannot last

Grass root of every nation

Running in the wild

 

Diversion

Moving deathly ways

Path to green

From unseen

Cryogenic sleepers wake

More than world at stake

 

Reading of the poem: 

diversion pinterest com
Courtesy pinterest.com

Reunion – M83

Oblivion – M83

Wait – M83