HighOnPoems

Rages after the defiance.

Photo by Pedro Nuno Caetano Snippets of truth come to you, when you chase the anger and set yourself on fire. An intimate slap of a fall guy rages after the defiance. You are no longer bleeding gold. A windowless home for the defiled, waits for you at the end of the road. The democracy has drained out all the symbols. Behind the grain now lies the eye; behind the wood now fire rages. A stretch of…

Violence will never end.

Photo by Robert Couse-Baker Waiting for a prickly path at crossroads, where desolation sits in between words and flesh. Hanging shells on windows where light immigrated to prophecies of Buddha.The violence will never end. Can you find some space between the bullets? Between the contrasts lie the black thoughts and sick arguments. Through the comets who will shoot bleeding flag?

A tableau vivant was gliding

Photo by VijayForVictory Time unleashed from ferrum becomes pain like a palm moon. A tableau vivant was gliding on the road. It was a night of rage. A frozen scene undulates the history of fire in the eyes of a flute. Who was breaking the clouds wading in reeds? —————————————— Time unleashed from ferrum becomes pain like a palm moon. A tableau vivant was gliding on the road. It was a night of…

His statue was being pulled down.

Photo by 熊.陈美芬.Phan Ly Photography.On/Off Riveted: the ducks went into a howl. A shirtless moon was walking on the lake. Darts had started moving towards blue lips. Gale was not able to speak. Unthinkable: sky will explode now, in stars. Gambling with water, cheating the fireflies in dark bush. Who was illegitimate on the blanket? The child was crying for the lost coin. King wanted the sun to…

On the stunned silence!

Photo by Internet Archive Book Images Let us talk today of crazed times, so that the trade of ethical falls runs. When dawn breaks on the stunned silence of moon, I start unfolding the black sun. Ah, a poetry wound aches my world, knee deep in blue veins, to find the lost river of tears. Give me a song, a word a phrase, to grow old.

Why did you say, it was biting cold?

Photo by Tony Fischer Photography The toppled gravestones, I still count the heads. I will go with your swan song, the bond erupts. You were always sitting under the bougainvillea, waiting for the swallow. The next door summer arrives; Why did you say, it was biting cold? The door shuts on the moon. It was obviously very dark, and I was searching the space between ’yes’ and ‘no’.

Has lost the charisma.

Photo by familymwr Pull out the pellets from my chest, I had fallen in a brutal crackdown. A black moon was taking revenge. You were staring straight in the eyes of death. The biker, has lost the charisma. The apples were never so sweet. Bursting out of the battle lines ready to shoot. A black hole was calling. To take a final jump of art into believing?

The autocracy will bleed

Photo by Christopher.Michel You had dug in deep to undo the garden. Civil war started between the yawning wounds. Whose side was time: in burning well of oil? The autocracy will bleed the earth till death. An island in the canal holds the ship of man. For whom flows the river in smouldering woods of hate? Each matter, antimatter, circles around the world, trembles under the eyelids and asks for a…

Need a scrutiny? Why a love song

Photo by Ken Lund The coming of a that to dismantle the comb, unstilling trees under tracer bullets swaying in embrace for moonmilk. The unzipped planktons in sea open their mouth to supermoon for a night dive in a green passion. Does it need a scrutiny? Why a love song has tarnished the icy mounds? The venom of hissing light on a sleeping bay has erased the aging lines of art and face was…

What was your core intention

Photo by Kanko* When the bloodshed starts at the doorstep of solemn silence, give me a lone engagement with the invisible to unchain the split heart. I will take away the pain from home and come back in failing light when a star meets the star and a moon meets the moon. What was your core intention to dismember me like a breadfruit and cover it with a human skin stapled to a dead soul? You drink…

A parting kiss

Photo by juliejordanscott In the sea of flesh: pomegranates. I will not say what I mean. In nameless pit of hollow breast, a parting kiss of poetry. I will count my steps tonight. walking on tectonic plates before the quake hits. It was the green blood of craft. A bloodless surgery on heart.

Humanity should be colorblind, and culturally diverse. We honor hate, yet dishonor mankind.

Uploaded by Sona Wilae Mama ate her collard greens with raw onions, pinching a morsel of greens with sweet cornbread, as juicy pork neckbones lay naked of meat. The sweetness of life, like sweet Kool Aid fills our tummies, while dishes await scrapes of scraps for the family pet; Tuffy. A simpler time, when gas was priceless at $.75 a gallon- and exhaust fumes were free. Corner, Jewish owned…

Women swoon over jim morrison

Uploaded by Mario Vitale Jim 1 Divorced from the outside world as if you have never heard changes in the back of my head egg shelled in design & form some may insist on cursing the very day they were born Dionysus was intigued with flames that arose by a sleeve Orion can be seen on a clear night within temples of fire the flame arose though soft and tender too soon to render theatre in the round…

Beautiful, meaningful and assuring

Uploaded by Leona Chaput God loves us, He loves us because we are Made in His holy image, claimed and called By the God of the world and all of the universe Made to love God and to follow and trust Him To believe in His mercy and all that He means He wants and needs to know that we are chosen to be Willing and eager to believe and to follow the way That He has set out for all who come to the foot…

Nostalgia

Photo by archer10 (Dennis) 110M Views (1) In old time, Before the sun stopped circling around us; Before it started to work as a painter of our shadows and the shadow of time over place; Before it adopted the hobby to boil sand inside a vessel we’ve called a desert; Before yellow gold had hatched into black gold, at the uppermost circle of Hell; Before the moon retired from its job as a lamp for…

There's much beauty in the differences between living things, but only if you care to see.

Photo by Rain Love AMR When you believe your truth is true And other truths are wrong Then to the colors there’s no hue No rhythm to the song It’s based on your view of life Which comes from all you’ve seen Rich or poor, man or wife The places you have been The people you’ve talked to The opportunities you’ve had The things you were able to do The pain you felt when sad Life creates a vision And…