Sole of a boot that cockie holds in spring
Blooms thorns of mellow melody in spring
And
It invites red sun
To cover stars at night
So cockie beak has blue to drink
Like night in spring
Like ocean of uncommon universe
Something foreign on human palm
And cockie holds firm to his boots
While Earth sings
Melody of mellow tune.

A bowe touches my dream in grey sand cloud
It sucks leafs from wet ground
Calls it fur of grief of future

Staples birds’ breath to the mist of sound

I call it order of nature.

My claws are in my eyeprints today.
It’s night.
They flow into multicoloured virtue.
Like bees on flowers.
To suck
To caress
To wipe off petal drain of honey.

Won’t you ask the trunk
Where drops of frost went?

Ether of contradiction poetry
falls into three wind leaf vibration
in the evening of kangoroo songs
when joeys are kicking wholes

Mid season

Air is fire and chalk
and coal

Coal breats out pink fingers tonight

Ether contradiction poetry
Oxides above tree trunks

They give nourishment atoms
to the eyesights of bees
and helicopters.

I am a porcelain plate
in palms of Dracula's
conversation with Devil.

He leads conversation
with the grammar of the Moon
when sun is touching
last rays of spring.

Ether of contradiction poetry
feeds birds' beaks
during the night

A poem sway
in the rythm of vicious evening
Raindrops
And

I step into
Above Earth.

https://bluethumb.com.au/my/dashboard

Vibrations in clouds are like
Mist in finches claws

Colourful rainbow of dark spirits
Rising like buds of paper flowers

From sea to the ocean
From ocean to the ground
From ground to the mountains
From mountains to the sky
From sky to the sun

And then we turn on the rackets

Only

For our perception to experience
With our senses

On what is below
Us.

My dreams
are interrupted video screen

I immerse my mind
into
touches

of their vibration

like
snow
on
ground

in

Europe.

Abortions that talk
People that crawl

like worms from an
innate to the cash register

Snails that suffer
human death

Offended leafs

They all peak into prayers

That don't have
any guilt
or reason any longer

Like stupidity of a
psychopath soul.

Grey sunlight in the stars
inflict bees inside
tonight's care

like sliding on an itchy paper

cheer clips of sensuality

Morning like a pot of milk
drained
in fingertips
and
paws
and
claws

slide through plastic toys of
car mechanics

When Simpson's trumple

Science called the tune

when neighbours echo
into caves
with bees

And that is the home
of a Witch faith

of uncommon trance

Morning like beer bottle lid
brings claws
of oak trees

into Walls
into Paws

Grey sunlight in the stars
inflict bees inside
tonight's care.