Misinformation

The pen is mighty in the right hands otherwise it just becomes a sword that kills. 

Scent Of Rain

scent of rain
on my skin 
the water takes shape 

It’s real cool

It gets real cool
When the sky carves a song 
And the clouds rain swan-songs
Into a crystal zephyr 
Awakening the light 
In a shadowless air 
Spilling out into the valley 
A mouth of liquid silver blossoms of aqua vowels 
Tunefully tapping 
Pitter patter 
Wind-spun drops
Glittering 
Translucent water runes
In a whisper of mist

Thunder loud
Lightning bright 
Under my skin
The rain breathes 
Swinging over my hips
Drenching into me.