We marched over dirt like fire ants,
wanting to pierce raw flesh and
delight in the wailing roars
of our victims.
We wound up winded
from fighting a fierce battle
with the sun -- its rays beating
down like spears, making the ground
hell to walk on. But walk on
we did and gave a bright laugh
as the sun slipped further behind
Now bloodshed stained the heavens,
and we were glad to paint the earth.
Our swords were brushes,
and we were artists with a burning passion.
War was seared in our minds,
controlling every thought,
every breath...fueling us,
driving us forward into greatness.
We saw the vultures circling on high
and the lowly vermin creeping about.
Our prey's breath was weak like still air.
We charged over dirt like fire
and delighted in the screams.
earth and water --
all crude imperfections
and wondrous marvels
Majestic birds seem to invite
our world into their world
as they stretch out their wings
like a warm embrace.
With them we are free
to soar into the sunlit branches
of the cypress or dive
deeper into Spanish moss,
all the ripples of air.
As softly as an afternoon rain,
the moss brings us down
and introduces our toes
to the slimy ground.
The mud slithers in and out
and cushions our feet --
our inhibitions sinking
further and further.
Soon, we are swimming
in a sea of tarnished emeralds.
The water mimics the sky.
We glide around cypress
knees as alligators snake
past us, creating ripples
that echo the moss.
The grass envelopes
and swims alongside us,
easing a path back
to the majestic bird --
perched on a wooden throne
with wings wide open.
Our worries were emptied
into the swamp, and we swam
like kings through them all.
If I could no longer pen down
words befitting of your beauty,
my nights would be filled
with peaceful silence.
You've heard every silly
utterance of mine: bitter
phrases painted with childish
skill you so kindly accepted
with teeth so perfect,
I could swear they were the gates of Heaven.
Your smile, as I've mentioned a thousand
times before, is the only sunlight
I need. It reaches into my eyes,
which are putrid vats of bile
that I'm sure contaminate the oceans
your eyes are. I could sink a thousand
times in your gaze and never tire.
The waves glide down your hair,
which is like golden silk woven
purely by angels.
I would sleep in my grave
before thinking all the words
in the world perfectly captured
in suits waddle in weather
that gives frostbite to the air.
Nature's breathing tuxedos,
living in their frozen hellscape,
crown themselves as rulers
measuring up to mountains.
They fly on ice on stomachs
as smooth as blubber.
Freezing waters filled with predators
are the perfect place for a summer swim.
Death comes with leopard spots
and clapping fins, hoping to taste
the rich treasures inside the eggs.
The seals are a dream,
bringing down the reign of the emperors.