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10h · 33
War Under Cloud
Tep morsum le ila korpsum.
Ashes to ashes,
detonation into corpses.

Rebel en legion,
savor to each cranium,
delicate as a fine wine,
yet shall us be blackened.

Legion en acid,
rebel en sympathic.
Freed the souls,
yet armies took them back.

Clouds for clouds,
each foxglove mattered.
Deceptions to be deceptions,
shall each eyes peak.

Whistle whistle,
newspaper for towns!
March for the mourn,
em' do as trumpets blow:
Soul soil.

Reaper grims,
soul queue stacks.
Clank! Burst!
Move forward,
shall a man protect us.

Scream,
hammers to craniums,
each organs weren't sold,
yet each lives be taken in joy.

Amendment et cease,
clouds bright,
peonies for each skull,
their blood bloom.

Fed korpsum le ila bluumus.
For each craniums,
let the seed be fed.

Fed korpsum? Ne.
Sim korpsum yaai rirget.
See the corpse,
see regret.
For each blooming in their craniums, let them rest.
Let towns be watered.

None for us to mourn,
for them shall they be enskyed. Morally, for us shall be shaking hands.
A poem about war and its rebuilding process. Shall us be at peace and never go for wars again.
1d · 31
Silent Disaster
Scalpel the daybreak,
shall the rip be delicate.
Fine mist, ashore a hollowing scream!
For whom shall us notice?

Look around.
Seest the sun nor the moon?
No! Turn ablind!
Thou shalt ne notice.

Nibble, nibble.
For them to come.
For us to enjoy.
Them shalln't notice.

Chomp, chomp!
Here they come a slice!
Yet shall none notice!
What a fun!
Ever thought about god's anger? With each person's sin in this world, god's anger rises everytime. That's why there are many earthquakes now.
6d · 139
Microism
Life,
creatures of mud,
singing and dancing,
atop of a sunflower.
It's gracious, or crude.
Crude it is.

What have we seen?
Only the gracious?
What have we done to the crudes?
Endust them?

Have you seen a dust in the air?
It's our real value,
a small yet to be *****,
against this dusty place.

We are all dust!
Then what?
See the smallest dust particle!
Value him, could you?

We, have truly...
Truly have dusted the lowly and crudely.
We, have been too macroistic (only loving the big ones).

What could have we write,
in little ones?
Wonder to be him,
we learn to caress the kneels.
Oh, what an amendment!

Written in nobody.
Yet to be loved! Be loved!
For the kneeling ones!
Honor the peasants!
See high against them!
Oh, what an amendment,
written by our vague quills.

For us?
Love the leaf,
the branches,
and the plain wood.
Love them.
The same as you do.
Do what?
Love. Love what?
The golds,
the rubies,
and the silvers.
Honor, respect, love the weaklings and the rough ones.
Apr 24 · 57
Old Generation
On God, shall we envision old flowers.
Landscape, they stand on greenscape.
Definality? We shall define them gold.

Crumble a star! Shall a new be born?
I'm none but a witness for them.
The new generation shall build anew.
Yule horror? No! Shall they wither!
Apr 24 · 38
Await.
For it is who deemed true,
shall abide for amendments.
For it is who deemed boredom,
shall a man spread flowers.

Whom for man?
It is human, a human...
A human, from the mankind,
waiting on the cliff for someone.

For me, a pen
and smudged ink on the table.
For them, the sky and clouds.
For them shall decipher
For them, a skybreak.
Apr 24 · 83
Welcome!
Fire, for him and for us.
A small sacrifice for our enjoyment.
A small temporary heat
to warm the hearts and its owner.

Sunrise shall arrive by the end line of the sea.
For us a small savor against its motherly silk.
Flower a fragrant, and its fragile beauty against almighty.
Asoothed by him, shall no devil bloom against our wither.

Landscapes shall ruin against greenscapes!
Change! The frame of stone caligraphs for a green curvy paint.
Wither shall not bloom against you.

"Ah, an arriving creature," shall us wave a misty silk of greenscapes.
Shall us, greet a warm candle in winters.
Shall us be not a wither to others.
Let us be a witness for the wandering cavern voices.

For us a new start...
For whom should we serve?
Ah, a pen..
Write aside a candle?
What a moment I miss...

— The End —