C.D. Xiang

Tailored dresses, tailored skin tight
glisten under the midnight moon beams
and car headlights.
Such beateous women shouldn't stay in the rain
...

...

She weeps a melody of wistful melancholy.
I yearn to help her mend, but join in harmony.
In minor keys our strains will lilt on magically.
...

Spread my wings
and fly away

Shed a tear
...

Minuscule, dainty, flocculent and docile
Creations of the sun and beautiful sunflowers
Scent of fresh milks and esters
Flavorings of rose and chrysanthemums
...

I am the night.
I am the cold dank mist that rises and chills the bones.
I dwell, tarrying in the slinking shadows and the darkness that creeps into the soul.
I am the pale eye of the moon-shimmering mockery of the life-giving sun.
...

The river flows soothingly yonder,
The mountains and valleys above have azure skies,
Intensely confounded and feeling voluptuous,
For the nifty zephyr is everywhere, aloft and above.
...

If I were to cite
the vales and hills,
for deference I allude
mountains and here.
...

Evacuating the vessel,
moving on to higher planes,
the soul has no regrets,
the body no more pains.
...

I can reminisce
the termination
of everything.
...

Perpetuating the vanity,
So raise with an ovation!
Let people glorify thou
With a lucubration!
...

Dining in this festivity,
Embellishments devoid of iniquity,
Conviviality, all the way,
Incessant merriments being swayed.
...

Legions of embellishments made inroads into savings,
Insomach as 'tis decent festival
We splurged
on interval times avidly.
...

Demise of cries! Inward being incessant,
Convalescents being brawny now,
But melancholy itself avow
That its prowess being not quiescent.
...

O, sweet Nightingale
thy voice is a vermilion light
the darkness grows pale
...

My savior came in the demise of the night
I turned my face away
an angel sold me a song
about how she went away
...

A little blonde beateous in a white tank top and blue jeans
browses the produce department;
her soft hands with manicured nails of a shy-blushed red
grip a dark green shopping cart that perfectly matches her eyes.
...

We yearned for perfection with labyrinthine schemes in our hand.
Our plans were so gargantuan and chimeras were so lofty.
Our motto 'Never say die' shoved us to continue the journey
while despaired thoughts clouded the road ahead.
...

My heart
is caught
in a fist
of relentless
...

Sunlit dust motes within
windswept snowflakes without
a yard of moss invaded lawn
layered over with snow
...