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Showing stories tagged with #metaphorical-landscape Clear filter
The pieces of a crumbling ruin. Tumbling down to a field of grass. Pebbles and rocks, a shadow of hail. Splintered wood and shattered glass. A gradual collapse of weathered walls.
The world is feeling. A little bit flesh and spine,. Finding it difficult to. Make clear and define. One day you think 'it's yours!'. The next 'it can never be mine!'. Sweet mother of euphorbia.
I I slump my way through the labyrinth of grey Through chilled corridors, my eyes on the floor At my feet a spiral staircase.
Something I wrote a while ago and kept to myself. I hope it's not too bad it means a lot to me, enjoy. I hear it again, it's that sound, the sound of that vain thudding in my ear.
I am a black lake, my reflection darker than the devil's blood. I have no hope today, no ambition, I want to give up again, a tiring repeat of twelve years age.
Darkness wraps around us, Trying to squeeze all the goodness from our bones , This phase is to test us, See if we break , break down .
#colour The heart's volcano dies.
Strained control and exerted minds Pushed onto someone from different kinds The wail of the wind unevenly blown The threads of ancestors harshly sewn Their respect dead, one turned on one's...
If an overgrown garden needs to be mowed or weeded, what's the damned point in doing it.
In the midst of the mist. There are fuzzy felt shapes. Juicy green carpets. Battleship landscapes. Each watery wave. Distorts anew. My petrol coloured. Point of view. Gossamer tripwires.
You've burned all your bridges. The old flames still burn and flickers. Footprints glow in the embers. Old wounds still scar the witness. You wait for a distant love. To bathe you in a brighter light.
Below the sight of the six-footers, lies the lush, ever-green grass, caressing the summer breeze –as it cautiously blows between the tiny delicate hairs of grass, feeding it awareness that its...
There's a giant that lives in the sky. The moons just one of his eyes. The atmosphere is his dark skin, And the stars his freckles, like pins. The planets make up his face.
Black clouds hang, Blocking out the sun. It's just a fling between us, Just a bit of fun. Grey mist loiters, Blocking out my view. Nothing important's going on, At least with me and you.
In my world, the clouds of sugar empty coffee rain, On to roads of cinnamon pavings, Trees of cloves and nutmeg houses.
This wind is wild, Whipping the scrawny Fingers of the trees Into a lashing frenzy, Pulling leaves, Like teeth from blackened gums, Scattering their dying forms, A sprinkling of confetti, On the...
Today… the day is bright, out there the sun is shinning, out there the wind is dancing. In here, the clouds are grey, there's no air to breathe.
Is there a view for me and you A place were we can meet. Rain filled moons And foggy dunes A place that we don't greet. Carpet snow where footprints go Leading us through the night.
words by the tallest man on earth. Well I walk upon the river like it's easier than land. Evil's in my pocket and your will is in my hand. Oh, your will is in my hand.