Cloud Grass

Slipped a skyflower in my DNA.
Yesterday, to be exact when I earned my sobriquet,
“A jack of all trades in a box”.
Occurred when I slipped on gray stoned tops.
With a high cyclops beneath my raining cyclone.
He claimed knowledge of things I didn’t know.

That’s besides the point.
I paint in hues that don’t disappoint.
Dissipate in eyes that dilate dimly.
Owls with vicious words denigrate grimly.
Auspicious veins of beautiful scintillation.
The blood loss was my remuneration.
I guess this meditation of mine is simple rhyme.
Best I can hope is that I becomes another’s enzymes.

.     .     .
Inspired by this painting. Really interesting to look at and the poetry is not bad either.

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