beyond
the edges of this world
She rises
high
again.

lifted
by silent song;
lifted, by
our love.

and as
night’s wonder
fades into her light,

magic grows
tantalizingly in might.

illusion fades and the darkness retreats
back
into dream,
and
desire.

--

--

the gentle caress
of your muted voice

reflects the perfection
of me,
wrapped deep
within the wonder of you.

so
i turn
to kiss
your sky,
with the soft-est
lips,…

trembling,
in surety
of what could come.

and I feel
for your touch.
and,
for me, touching
you.

so
let us dance
like we used to,
when the world was young,
and we were free.

--

--

too long
you have waited

for adoring eyes
to once again
adorn you
with gifts
implicit
and
immeasurable,
and
unearned.

too long
have lips quivered rapturously

to breathe,
tales
of your splendor,
and
untested grace.

high
below both star and sun.

deep
within a boundless dream.

you wait
alone

with naught

but hunger
as your friend.

and with this bestial gaze
lowered
in prideful obeisance,
I pray to you.

Sweet Muse,
I pray for you.

secure
in this slimmest sliver
of hesitation,
I listen.

a silvery laugh
peals ethereal,
lighting this
winter’s night
with mystery,
beauty,
and fear.

I collect Spores, Molds, and Fungus. View all posts by nomisyar

Originally published at http://thedeprevation.com on 07 December 2022.

--

--

juking & jiving
your damn way through, but
stickin’
to the script like
you were bred to do.

life plays you tight-
this ain’t no zone D.
but there are so many ways
for us to get free.

no matter
how
you twist,
turn,
or fade away,
home waits for you,
right now,
right here.

so,
walk your way
and remember
to play YOUR game,
and we promise
to welcome
you home
once again.

I collect Spores, Molds, and Fungus. View all posts by nomisyar

Originally published at http://thedeprevation.com on 28 November 2022

--

--

albion mist
clouds my heart.
I cannot hear the drums.

the might of my fathers washed
away in the myth of history.
I cannot feel the drums.

empty children, wandering
without soul, eternally seeking,
try to guide me through their hell.

they have never heard
the sound of the drums.

they cannot know
the sound of the drums.

the sound of the drums
that will take me home.

the sound of the drums
that can take us home.

I collect Spores, Molds, and Fungus. View all posts by nomisyar

Originally published at http://thedeprevation.com on 25 November 2022

--

--

did
you
smell
today’s promise in
the waning night
air:
crisply thin,
and growing?

did
you
see
the morning sky
wink
as storks skipped
‘cross the ether
into a rising flame?

did
you
taste
the delicate pines
dripping mist and magic,
and memories?

did
you
hear
the robins, and tits and
crows all laugh
with the old chortling mamas
swimming in love?

surely you felt
that
tingling spark of
recognition
singe your soul, when the grizzled stranger
smiled
just for you.

rare indeed,
are days lacking
in such love
and wonder.

I collect Spores, Molds, and Fungus. View all posts by nomisyar

Originally published at http://thedeprevation.com on 03 November 2022.

--

--

Ray DeSouza

Burgeoning Writer, [lazy] Capoeirista, Expat, and Lover of all things beautiful, including my emotionally manipulative canine, Augustus. www.thedeprevation.com