In a lapisLazuli dream
We travel late with our destiny like nomads
where the earth shines in a nuanced sky,
the weather like a near supertopaz delight.
We live among tigereye textures in a crystallized dome.
We are in search of an tiny obsidian thought,
an idea guarded by a single emerald dog;
we will have to transfer our symbiotic aventurine thoughts
to a grand opaline dream
so that we may find the lyric diamond song
shrouded in a mist of rain and tears.
We tumble into a citrine experience
jumping carefully among the loose hyperbolic pebbles
as we cleverly evade the elves' deadly dragons
while our excited human hearts
beating like surreal skittles
in a newly-formed amber angel.
We mate the jade with the onyx of the dragons
and produce a pyrite eye monster
that saves us from the toxic gasoline dream
spewing foaming phosphates
into our semi-precious landscape, nearly ruining it
as we screamed in a futile chorus of a chrysoprase horror.
Now enough of this dreamwine-
give me a dusted garnet
and I’ll fashion an old amethyst of understanding
ornamented with a diamond love
from which I shall take you on a surreal ride
through the imperial topaz mountains,
unfurling the banner containing the last thread of a carnelian hope.
I will sweep you through a malachite opening
in a minute rift between two dreams
written on a moonstone monoliths
as the peridot parrot keeps our secrets safe,
provided we do not stray even a dragon's breath
from the weaving dreamways before us...



I love this, and I find that the titles for poets are quite silly.



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