Stories from Saffron Fields.

I. The Hierophant

the guard held stories
for the young and for the sick
but the fence can only make me
glance though the seems
as the sounds of wood on metal shoes crack
and the uniforms sheik the wallpaper symbolism
the future keeps me detained to the chains
as the ball rolls toward the other way
softly, the tears flow down in a stride of puddles
as the colour washed away from metal;
only a single airplane remains in these skies of beige.

II. The Chariot

orange flowers arise from grandiose showers
but those showers were gray
and came very vicious
clouds shallow on the rise of night fall
surly, they gaze upon the wartorn soldiers
from the previous march apart and detached
far from the souls they buried
with the facade of gun powder
they gather and spread the severed into ashes
as they sprinkle the remains of crafted fields;
soon shades of scarlet became monochrome.

III. The Dancer

as the wax disappear to hang off the table edge
the smoke builds itself on the wooden ceiling
sounds of waltz invoke different tangerine dreams
as the rain puncture the porcelain floors
those pictures of pity and pseudo-loneliness begin to age
the lone cloud umbrellas a quiet and clement inflorescence;
she dances along the tulips aligned perpendicularly
in soft Persian silk,
moonlight atones a brave spotlight;
a golden flower among golden flowers

IV. The Magician

painted in white to cover things that can't evoke
the magician's hat has torn apart from masterful orators
still, the audience wished they were fooled for a second longer
as the snow drifts and lies among the grass
the leaves carry over,
gasping their last breath,
holding a final stand
beneath the brown, invisible to the eye but imagined by brain
holes are aligned to a happy family along the fireside
as the children fall asleep
and as people shovel the snow;
the rabbit could only smile.

V. The Worker

sounds of wheelbarrows on dirt and scythes cutting the grass
the worker succumbs to a modest living
but as their suitcases were raided for their valuables
I guess luxury and vanity isn't something for the hungry;
the mirror can only look the other way
but the dust always disperse the densest of crowds
and sunlight awakens the denser red sun
whiskey looks better in crystal but not in soil;
fields only yearn as they cannot grow when drowned in squalor.