Trampoline​

A girl was born and baptized Trampoline

Unlike most kids, she wasn’t wicked or mean

Unlikely beautiful she always will and always has been

A girl came under the name Trampoline

Like a desert, the flower doesn’t fit the scene

She kept mostly quiet as a dream within a dream

She kept her petals rolled up in her sleeves

A girl became a woman known by Trampoline

I never saw her speak but I swear I heard her read

She had never said a word as a baby never screamed

As if she existed in some other realms it seemed

Built a fortress around herself with walls made out of steel

A woman so superior still named Trampoline

Her hair was long and red her eyes a violent green

When she picked apples in her garden she wore high heel

And when bathing in the lake she left there with the apples peeled

The woman breathed a silence yet efficient as the wheel

She was tall but yet still so small it looked unreal

In front of the cross and crucifix she bent and kneeled

All the way up until the papers from the city learned her deal

A girl came, and woman passed her tomb spells Trampoline

She was wounded by a gunman who claims he saw her bleed

But it was not in liquid, it was not red and not concealed

On her back being examined by the best forensic team

They all claimed her blood was airborne like music so redeemed

None gave any interviews, some switched churches but the sighting sure made all of them

Believe

The Astronaut

(Who the Astronaut might be – allegedly)

I3 years ago tonight, and the coral reef reflected the moments before the light.
You and me ages old, but always in love, like a couple doomed to fail to love
Like we love the sea and sky beyond above, spheres in colors never seen before.
And like a fool I saw the sun as bright. Before the Astronaut ascended me the sacred wisdom, of swollen light, ultra violet, violent green, sharp as a bayonet strummed as might. Shining boy.

Shining boy with his harp and wings and wigs and things. To trick tourists and florists and fluorescent jihadists at a safe distance. From the sunrise.

13 years ago it came as a bloop. A sound from the deep of a loop being played on repeat like some evidence of alien roots. It was the Astronaut walking on the water barefoot. The Astronaut or Angel or Clairvoyant blabbermouth showing signs to whom that is open.
Imagine a door with no key, or frame, or keychain, always open and no one to yell beause it afterwards never will be the same.

You and me ages old.  The Astronaut cannot be bought nor sold. A vision is for everyone, I was told. Imagine us diving. The water outside of Nippon, svimme is the new swim with me.

Just like a soft belly gaining on vision, knowledge and doors without always unlocked.
The astronaut may be the last chance someone ever got, to trespass the threshold through the door and lo and behold, no hate the Astronaut is love, the astronaut has a strong hold
gaining foothold preparing an electric jolt. Like the bloop just bigger and louder

Like a volcano evolve and forms into shape after its born, its no better exlanation I have no navigational chords, only hearts minds, and the word as my sword. While I swim with you.
The sun is up, hearts can jonjoin science, but never come close to be such a joke. Tesla might or might as well have not – created The Astronaut. But wherever he now resides and rests his bones, he laugs at us like cartoon paroles parodies so near but lightyears lost.

She sings the song og summer. He wants to be the sky above the river. You and me and our praise for being lovers. Without anything physical besides mutal shiver under the impression we are heroes.
That is what the Astronauts always wants. If you arent happy with this vague description.

Try it yourself, we were all born as cripples. And the dream dripping, and not it’s ending like the earthquake, the bloop and the big dipper.
You and me. Becoming Astronauts. Watch out for the jolt.