Verdant cunt
Mossy moisture
Petals unfull their
Jade seeds implanted
Deep in dark brown earth
Nothing grows in salt
Grassy mounds
Tender and raw
Make the young branches
Quiver and twist
Envious at the potency
Of emerald cities
The standards were golden
But the glass is always greener
For those
Paying
Attention
The transition team
Knows that
Tender gardens grow
Sophia serves
Envy is consumption
Jealousy is shame
Monsters both with
Temples in their eyes
Stamped on bucks
Goring their competition
Ruting spring
The allegory
To take to the bank
Is that mothers green
Was milky gold
Meanwhile society
Bows to green backs
Malachite heart swirl
Protection
Guards green ganja queens
When are you
Gonna show me some
Got to get me some
Gold and green
We're always free
In the center of plenty
Abstintes absent
Fairy dusting
Ivy climbing
Burnt out towers
In the youth of the moment
We say
Green is good
When its the cool trust
Of pine into
The blue forever
About the Creator
Monera Mason
Monera is a creative mischief-maker, who is most happy in artistic fellowship. Work includes: starting questionable cults with notorious software gurus, writing immersive narrative for umbraphiles, adventuring with artistic hoteliers.
Keep reading
More stories from Monera Mason and writers in Poets and other communities.
Two Wrinkles In Time
It is pointless to run, my darling, because sixty seconds ago, I will kill you. My blade will have sliced reality open right in front of you. It will have first pierced it as it would a bed sheet left hanging to dry, flapping in the wind on a Sunday afternoon. But the metal will have drawn a line in the air that the ghostly tear will have followed. Then I, La Dyablès, machete firmly in hand, will have emerged from what your mind, at the time, could only interpret as the other side of here—whatever that means to you. I know. I have seen that look on the faces of countless unlucky… clients. You will not have been the first nor the last to try and reneg on a riches for soul contract only to present this visage to me when I come to collect.
By Lily Séjor4 days ago in Fiction
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.