Artists of the atmosphere

 

Let us be artists

of the atmosphere.

Dancing spheres,

planets

in a cosmos of stars.

Seers of forever

where fallen dreams

litter the shallow seas,

where humanity

forgot about you and me.

Let us not be uncertain,

let us not fear.

For in the eyes of love

we sit here.

 

Let us draw pictures

in naked dreams.

Scrawling images

over vast ethereal ages.

Our drenched skin pages.

Let us paint angels

in lakes

of clear reflection.

Water colour splashing,

slow flowing scenes,

Ignore the lines,

just paint the serene.

Soak the tainted

pages between.

 

Let us show another route.

A pathway to truth, between the vines.

Let us coat the earth with colour.

Ignoring the border lines,

share the view from the stars.

A sprawling marble,

shimmering

in the glancing sunlight cover,

speckled over with

green sprouting roots

of peace

branching trees

of love,

reaching out to the blue sea

of hope.

Throw the planet a safety rope

from our world in the clouds.

and speak our words out loud

to share our harmony all around. 

 

 

Thanks for reading

Please take a few moments 

to check out my new book "Poetic Outlaw"

available from Amazon

https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0CVQ5F9K8/

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Peace, Love & Poetry 

 

Kyle

 

 

Kiss of life

 

Stop this chill

that envelops my heart.

A blanket of darkness,

that is clogging my arteries.

I feel no breath within my lungs,

when our song isn't being sung.

So, hold me tight

I want to feel

the warmth, still

against the frost of night.

Press yourself

into my skin tonight.

I'll peel away my layers

so, you can see inside,

I'll not hide.

 

Let us feel

every rise and fall of life.

Every breath.

Let us sway upon its vibrations,

like a shooting star

cutting across grand constellations.

I'll mould like putty around you,

hold you until forever

says goodnight,

and eternity welcomes us

over the threshold

into her insight.

I'll turn out the light.

just to heighten our senses.

I want to feel our defences.

Fall.

Kiss me 

and I'll howl like the wolf.

Hungry,

listening to the moons silent call.

 

Kiss me quick.

I need the kiss of life

placed upon my lips.

As I take a sip. Let me slip into fantasy,

just to hear you whisper to me,

those words that taste like honey.

Those three little words,

that stand tall

like giants of vocabulary.

We can welcome the butterflies,

the roses and the trees.

Let us become one with nature

under that ceiling of leaves.

 

Let’s feel hot breath

blowing away

the lingering

slow death,

instead let us hold

tightly to the bed,

and let forever

share with us her stories.

As we whisper

sweet nothings

that could

awaken the dead.

 

 

 

Thanks for reading

Please take a few moments 

to check out my new book "Poetic Outlaw"

available from Amazon

https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0CVQ5F9K8/

Follow this link for all of my books, 

 

videos and social media.

 

https://linktr.ee/Wordsandfluff 

 

Every click, every book purchase, 

 

every like and share 

 

really helps me 

 

to keep doing what I love.

 

 

Peace, Love & Poetry 

 

Kyle

 

 

In tents mind

 

My brain whirls

with twirling,

circus sounds.

Clowns plodding around,

falling face first

into shaving foam plates.

This empty tent is my lair.

A tent of regret and bad ideas,

I fear the sounds in the air.

 

I'm a ringmaster

plucked from a photograph,

left in an old dusty place,

a retirement home

for my memory.

Surrounded by doppelganger faces

leering back, wearing my own despair.

This empty tent where

I fear the

sounds in the air.

 

The chill

of haunted laughter

straddles

the organ music,

and cycles higher

and higher,

like a motor biker

riding

the walls of death.

Laughter at my

smile bereft face.

Not with me,

but against,

and setting the pace.

In this dense atmosphere.

Thick,

with those fearful sounds in the air

 

Juggling thoughts,

walking tightropes

between trapeze artists

ready to knock me off my feet.

I sway and stagger through

this tent,

humming a circus march.

Brain just seeking a seat,

a place to rest and breathe.

away from the intense pressure to be...

Someone whose skin

doesn't sit correctly on these bones

that are wearing thin.

The sounds repeat,

fearful enough to keep me

nailed to my seat

Me, the clown,

when I was trying

to act like a prince,

and this tent no palace,

nor place to be.

Not home for me,

I am only at home

where the moonlight winks.

 

 

 

Thanks for reading

Please take a few moments 

to check out my new book "Poetic Outlaw"

available from Amazon

https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0CVQ5F9K8/

Follow this link for all of my books, 

 

videos and social media.

 

https://linktr.ee/Wordsandfluff 

 

Every click, every book purchase, 

 

every like and share 

 

really helps me 

 

to keep doing what I love.

 

 

Peace, Love & Poetry 

 

Kyle