Robinson Rosa

Cloth Of Lanes - Poem by Robinson Rosa

Odd the incantations of time, walking through the blue room, in the sight of misconception
Mind's conceived only under the roof that's the light of abuse
Stung by wasp that only believe ignorance on the storm of a queens nest
The time under sun's disguised as red moons

Bleed, and know time under your own oath, time before there was ever a beginning, just fire across the ash floor that ignites only to burn that start like a phoenix, a paradox in white lines

The time to whistle clocks, one entering the room, the other looking out windows that only spiral deeper into hidden shades of grey, lucidly the world a darkness before the thoughts conveyed in a mind are seen in vivid color

Drains of life's water just seeping through your empty palms, to see of a psychic wish

One haunted and stuck to wall as exhibits cross the room floor, life perishing, vanishing, all as dreams delay

Storms brew, an open mind's war path remains resilient to false realities, time's mischief becomes evil's ever unwinding screen, a nightmares astral viewing, calamity in an aerial nest

Bright stars in funds of joy and poverty of hearts, only brewing smiles as empty as caverns on earth
Depths of our own walks

Walks of narrow lanes to strand the cloth of kings into nights only light, what moons and stars?

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Poem Submitted: Friday, February 8, 2013

Poem Edited: Saturday, February 9, 2013

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