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Rated: 18+ · Poetry · Arts · #2164994
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The Jade Purse Dictatorship

..

Empires collapse like colon's of the finest wine
Only to become a mirage of the bottom-and die
Hope of a self-sufficient society for wither
Who knew I would become a hole of my predecessor

..

Type casted shadow, i prowl in imperial lips capped
At peeks curled in stutters twinkle of pearl and black
A high priestess,
Whom's breast's undress my dialect
I never sleep from shame of the throne i never sat by select
calamity jolts the flighting inhale of missing i glance upon
from a dynasty of perfect placement when there simply is none
From marble once now forms my walk way of glass slippers
I tread between hypermanic ceramic cats that laugh at each whisper
carvings - screech/skert overlapping the suckling of my failure
Throwing flower stems to remind one still exist in the days of tailored
for 276 years, i fought what seemed to be an eternity
and yet only one man remains in mind of my past history

but one man
whom triggered the beginning to my downfall..

migrant moss grows and the roots are skinned to the eye
is where the ancient mystics of time lie, that i must pass to survive
i never had abstruction or fault of my path for
i step oh so softly in the dead secrects of pasture
its wet almost like my tongue was remove and drapped
upon the stills only to be tilted and put back in place
i wabble and i clammer and cling to suspended animation
removing the vibrant colors coincide in collapse the same as replacing
water builds from jets, built out of flowers with no name
and death is all i taste as they pierce my face and reconstruct my brain
she vibrates, a zen nun with an open empty guitar case
parallel
to a silent him of shinobi balancing a coin in its place
spinning oh so subtly in the air mimicking my process of advance
dancing above the guitar case echoing her chant
to his recycled exsistance of entranced
an abrupt music crackles from their position immiting
directing what seems as intention the word's i am the forbidden city
its modern form of ball or cube door swung as enter on all sides
when my purpose of being screams out of me "end his life"

the coin stops
the shinobi blinks..open's his mouth and my voice emits
it is an alchemist you seek, yet you have never met a wall
you continue to avoid your past and cross back in from forth
how can you challange powder without one crumbled nor crushed
fire and water will boil you alive before you ever feel hushed

though there is a man,
a man once..

that can be harmed by his attachments..
remove the coin like the vertebrate you are..
and follow the hole of that man, that man for the stars..

..
...
.
i rench and rest in one swift puff of smoke i witness a whimper of a child fall
a little girl,
and the man-oh the man is there..- yet i am siezed in nothing at all
i try and wedge forward at the alchemist as my fingers curl and split..
my lips form rifts and rip from off my own depict..
my clothing tears and vanishes in a smirk of alchamey before a sigh..
and i form into a serpent stapled to the grass unworthy of the sky..
craddling my last breath in a scale of truth and lies i mime
your father's debt has been paid.. silent as a lullaby - as has always mine

..
© Copyright 2018 Noraah Heel (knows_candy at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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