place the coin,
beneath my tounge
so I may pay
Or else my
has scarce begun'
~ Helen 01/12/13
Don't leave me
beside the river
I deserve more
and stop me
the other side...
pretium est princeps unde redderent, quia munera(1)
τραγική, η τιμή
Σας έκανε να πληρώσετε
tragikí̱ , i̱ timí̱
Sas ékane na pli̱ró̱sete
nu ligga död
botten av gropen(3)
nocht, ach le haghaidh an salachar
Chaith mé a chuirtear air(4)
Take your largesse and squeeze it where the sun never sees(5)
We all laid down
just as well
The master cut
the puppet strings
and we all
(2) Greek ~ grievous price We did pay this
(3) Swedish ~ now lying dead bottom of the pit
(4) Irsh ~ naked, but for the dirt I spent upon it
(5) No translation required
is that even a word?
who cares really?
It is now, to me
I have oft complained
the seductive heat
of tar and ink
that has literaturely
clogged my veins
and in turn
gummed my brain
often touting screams
is here to remain
but I was wrong?
When last I cut my wrists
the pain ran Red
and inside my head
I literaturely turned Blue
that all things unsaid
are put to bed
on a razors edge
cutting my soul in half
that never once
turned on you
I literaturely turned gray
I paled beneath dying embers
of forgotten burning fires
dulling as ash coated remnants
of long ago desires
I now step back
from the fray
I've had my weak
and upon the hour
where the clock strikes
the 780th minute
13 leaves a sour
taste in my mouth
turning all good things South
swimming in blackness
in my new ruby red
I literaturely died
Now a mute
blood red in vane
I sit and stare
at the bones
of my soul
A ghastly caricature
of a misspent life
that can't negotiate
the road at the bend
I literaturely can
all the little children play
in the streets
their grubby little faces
smile with cherubic grace
all the while
little worker ants
dance double time
along invisible threads
and get confused
when a finger spreads
North to East
when they should be
How come, little baby
you need something
in your mouth?
is a favourite pastime
to a literary Genius
to a pop beat
that should be waltzed
but the grubby children
only see the rain
down the gutter
Their tiny ships
made from discarded
are ocean liners
and their inarticulate
whisper into the ether
dying a harsh death
upon the frost
Scattered bits of flotsam
are piled up high
upon the curb of
no longer relevant
Wastage to the scavengers
but not asked
of the grubby faces
if they grew out of it
It’s nineteen years old now
but as clear as the day it was captured
thanks to the wonder of modern day technology
it is frozen, as a memory on my computer screen
and it reminds me, in a blaze, of our total devotion
as it displays, to this day, our rapture
Your sitting there, a handsome devil
a beguiling smile upon your face
looking up at me like I was the one
that marked your world and you didn’t
ever want to be anywhere other than in that one place
I’m smiling down at you, in my eyes you can
see just the one single thing that was true
There was nowhere else I wanted to be, that day
but to be smiling down at you
Between us both, with each of our arms wrapped around
a small child that was happy to be, just part of us
As we gaze into each others eyes
he was happy to sit and smile, looking away
but knowing he was surrounded by trust
It is our wedding photograph that I stare at
on my computer screen and I’m still in awe
so much I can not look away
I look at us there, from a lifetime ago
and I thank the forces that be that we
still look at each other that way today
(best read in order)
He blankets her with a mist that is fine and as pure as his postpartum soul is able to manifest. He’s sorry that she is sobbing on the dirt floor. He can’t think past the hunger that is beating upon her, which beats upon him. He is angry that his ancient predatory instincts are gaping to the fore.
For the ancient being now gently weeping on a cold dirt floor.
Why did he not recognize her? How did he get so lax in the thinking that cattle could disguise it self? A Wolf in Sheep’s clothing? Well... it’s not like he has not donned the same costume!
He had been a Protector for so long. Rising each Sunset with the challenges that bring on the most predatory beasts that hunger for pain. He, alone, has stood beside Humanity to bring the world a semblance of normality, morality, a passing moment when they thought they were King of the world… but their inflated egos were never touched by doubt.
Because of him.
But she brings him down to the basest level.
For her hunger
For her emptiness
For her utter contemptuousness
She is the creature that he has been birthed to fight. The utter savageness that she brings forth when it becomes night.
He alone, in eternity, wanders the earth to make Mortal life the one thing that is right.
She lifts her head from the cold dirt floor to stare at him. He materializes as a persona that should scare her, one that heralds Death, but his emotions are fraught with peril. She is important to him. He may have been birthed to bring Death but he was never denied that one could become his Life.
His pulse quickens, her eyes widen, her pulse quickens, he is afraid of the sight that lays bare in front of him. His fangs are buried deep in his bottom lip, he can not say a word even if his immortal soul depends on it.
She licks her lips in hesitation, maybe anticipation; she could be licking her lips because of the small droplet of blood that lingers in the corner of her mouth. He wants to touch his tongue to said lips and cheek and ear and throat and, well HELL, he’s happy to continue south… as long as his tongue is touching skin…
She looks away, briefly, and cries again. She is unable to fight past her hunger even though she has recognized the Protector.
She needs protecting too!
She’s so hungry!
But from the swelling of his body, so is he…
when it's not
on the mouth
then it becomes
(best read in order)
The stone walls are closing in on me and I’m hungry
I’m on my knees begging silently to let my anguish end. I could have made it good. I wanted the pleasure more than the means to the end. I just needed a taste to know that I was alive once again but I’m left trapped. The walls closing in on me are a testament that I can never escape my existence. Even my fantasies are not enough.
How did I get back here? Inside my prison? Inside my own destiny? I am stronger than the person I was so many, many years ago but weaker than I want to be. I rose above the hand that life dealt to me and I have been a major player in history but I can’t rise above the fact that I’m left weeping inside my stone prison and I’m alone, again, and hungry.
Where did things go wrong?
The dark alley that I found you in was perfect. You were as alone, as lonely as me. But I didn’t want to make you feel less than special than you were to me. The restaurant, the candles, the sense of intimacy… It was all perfect. My imagination was at an all time high. I sensed your urgency.
I projected images as arousing as I could make them. I lived inside my own fantasies and I wanted you to want me as I wanted you. And I wanted you so desperately. Our dalliance was more than a mere moment. You were special to me. Not everything I projected was from my own mind. I felt your acceptance. Your willingness to indulge… Your complete and utter resolve to be what I wanted you to be.
But now you’re gone. Seemingly crumpled to dust. Escaping from me just like every other thing that I held dear.
You were not a figment of my imagination, even though everything around us was, but you didn’t stay and now I’m the one that will pay. I chose wrong. I understand that now. I’m sorry but please understand… I’m so hungry.
I curl upon the dirt floor to contemplate my mistake. The tears from my eyes are from frustration and anger and maybe just a little self indulgence that I can’t hold onto the fantasy. I breathed upon warm skin but I'm left with the bitter taste of myself upon my lips. It's the taste of me that leaves me bereft.
The mist that settles upon me like a blanket and hugs me in a gentle caress is more comfort than I can take. I don't remember much but I remember one thing...
I’m so hungry
If I could just take it
and roll it into a little ball
and punt it in it's nether regions
I think I could actually find
something to like about the season
I don't want to see the big fat bastard
all in Red, touching, smiling at my kids
I don't want to hear Christmas Carols
that never, ever, seem to leave my head
If the Christmas fairy
doesn't stay out of my sherry
I'm going to choke the bitch
with the Christmas lights wires!
It's bad enough that she
puked all over the tree
Her decorating skills
leave a lot to be desired.
So much torture!
Misery is just buried
underneath a pile of
brightly coloured tinsel
Happiness seems to be manufactured
straight out of the world
It almost seems so simple!
All the baking, sweating, storing of food
in Tupperware that have mysteriously lost their lids
All the cheap items I lost on EBAY
to last minute sneaky bids
But for one tiny smile, from a child...
I do it for my kids
Dec 19, 2010
2013~ still doing it for my kids ;)
Big Mistake can even barely describe how I let you goad me into coming back to your hovel and how you had to clear a path to your bedroom door all the while giving me such a goofy grin. Unfortunately (for me) your flat mate was passed out naked on the sofa with an empty long neck between their legs, snoring a sonata that would have made Frank Sinatra proud, I don't know how to describe the incredible feelings of vile that I experienced. Where do I begin?
I was so pleased to see the mattress on the floor in the corner of your bedroom that I just literally wet myself (don't mistake that for desire) and as you gently lowered me to the floor (honestly, who lives without bed frames) and I felt something crawl across my foot I fervently wished that we were higher. The drugs I took in the club are starting to wear off and I'm even more exacting sober (I wish I hadn't tucked into my handbag an extra pair of panties and packed some antibacterial wash to take away what would be left over)
"Wait" I cried as your arms seemed to grow 3 extra hands and you tried so hard to get me even more naked than the day I was born. "Protection? Do you have it" and as you looked at me like I was an alien and an extra head I had just spawned, you went out the door on a prophylactic journey that I was sure (looking at your house mate) would last almost till the dawn.
I took the time to glance though your extensive collection of pornography that you didn't seem to feel that you needed to hide and took a chance of learning a thing or two, that you may like, and stacked them in a neat pile to the side. The sheets that floated on your love bed were just a little to crusty for my taste. I don't really want to lay on top of every other lover that you've had in the last year and quickly removed them with some haste (the mattress underneath was another matter) by then I'm starting to think that we should move to the couch and invite naked Mr Longneck to the party just so I don't have to lay down on something so crusty that at the slightest touch would probably shatter.
sigh I'm here now I say to myself 'Take a bow, you've certainly outdone yourself by raising the stakes so high that even a snake crawling on their belly couldn't miss' so I try to make the most of it and remove my shirt (leaving the bra... it's an imagination thing) and try to arrange myself seductively on my coat I laid on the mattress and await for the first heated kiss
You loom in the doorway with a smile that promises that the hunt was a success and lope towards me with a gait of a predator that is ready to eat a succulent meal that your not prepared to undress. One hand reaches out to skim the lace of my bra as your eyes scoot toward the organized pile of magazines in the corner and you spy Miss July on top from afar and in an instant in between a muted groan and a world that is rocked and only occupied by you alone, with just a grope and one peep I'm left gobsmacked and your fast asleep!
Yes, I left a phone number,
No, it wasn't mine.
Please by all means, use it but try not to tie up LifeLine!
There it was just sitting
in the middle of the street
all black and white
for traveling feet
Herds of milling bipeds
traversed across it
as it stretched across
a sweltering pit of tar
While masses of
Auto.. mo.. biles
broke it’s back
they call them...
I just stood back
I was at a complete loss
I keep a vigil at the curb
for the zebra to come
how do they know where to cross?
Edged in the black silk of night
that wraps about our taut and supple limbs
arising from the fortifying waters
where a parched and weathered soul swims
the journey of remembrance is the distance between us
along a road that ends where it begins
Where shadowed sentries rise up and try
to assassinate from fields in the blind
while weathered torches bathe a landscape
in rivers of crimson
that seep up from behind
as we lay entwined
together in the dips and hollows
that create a bed of hope inside our mind
Pray the wings that carry a heart
land softly upon unbroken and even ground
whilst giving thanks to Heaven and Hell
for the shattering pleasure
to which we became bound
so that the ashes of the fires we built
but are now banked
drift silently to earth
on a whisper with no sound
I’ve turned the other cheek
To endure the slap in the face
I’ve been there and done that
Some things time can not erase
Walk a mile in my shoes
Ha! You would never endure
Maybe stop to smell the roses
But nothing will remain pure
This old dog knows new tricks
So throw me a freakin’ bone
Jesus came? Good for him!
But I still walk alone
I’ll take off my rose colored glasses
Before my drinks are mixed
I don't think that I am broken
Why should I bother to be fixed
I have licked my wounds
I can now live and let live
But what makes me forget
Is why I should forgive
I’ve paid my dues
I’ve made the bed
I now lay upon
I have now come
To the end of the line
But I think this
Is my swan song
I’ll bury my head in the sand
Ignorance is such bliss
You can give with one hand
And take with the other
But You Can’t Touch This!
visited upon the Son
Graceful in the face of defeat
Stoic in the face of pain
Unashamed in the face of Pride
An umbrella against the pounding rain
A willow tree bending, unrelenting
bowing in the face of rage
A feather floating in the breeze
to softly touch the face of age
Her touch can soothe battle fever
Her look can hold back the tide
Her voice can sing in triumph or
softly hum as she attempts to hide
She sits alone on a hill of clover
and finds four leaves with every glance
She sits at the bottom until it is over
and takes odds against every chance
Her babies are the reason she breathes
Her man is the reason she would die
For her there is no in between
Without either she has no reason to try
"I am Woman, hear me roar, in numbers too big to ignore, and I know too much to go back and pretend" ~ Helen Reedy 1972
First Date: http://hellopoetry.com/poem/first-date-17/ (best read in order)
It was so cold inside the cave
He didn’t understand when the restaurant faded and the stone walls rose around him that he was trapped. He was suddenly the prey and he didn’t like it. Not at all, but he was happy to see where the fantasy would take him. He could only hope and prey?
He silently smirks at his own private joke before he remembers where he is and briefly contemplates where he was before he came here.
He was sitting across from the most beautiful women he has ever seen. Her bare shoulders were like silk beneath his subtly brushing fingertips and he knew instinctively by her indrawn breath as he ran his hand up her bared leg that he was the luckiest man alive. He seated himself across from her and simply stared into her eyes.
He sees in her eyes all her fantasies.
He is a demon from the dark. He is fire and brimstone. All encompassing as all the sins of the flesh, burning her, setting her on fire, a raging inferno that can not be sated with just a few drops of sweat upon her brow.
Hmmm… I like this he thinks as he sips the ice cold water that has suddenly appeared in front of him, but for now he’s thirsty it seems.
The flames from a hundred or more candles flicker in her dark eyes as the scene changes and becomes a darker conflagration of her dreams.
This is getting more interesting he ponders her stare as he lifts his hand to stroke the satin skin of her knuckles across his lips
Now he is a wolf. A creature of the night. She has seen beyond his façade and she’s running. Triggering his hunting instinct. He can only chase her. There is nothing else for him to do. He must claim the other half of himself that calls to his predatory nature. He is ready to claim his mate and he’ll take her like the wild animal that he is!
He’s seen that all in her eyes, until the millions of candles fade to just a small torch and the walls that clutched at them with intimacy are now just coarse stone and the illusion is lost.
As she bends toward his neck, with sharp fangs, seeking her solace, he dissolves into mist. She screeches as her wickedly sharp teeth pierce her bottom lip with a sharp bite and instantly realizes she has lost her prey.
He laughs eerily.
Then, as the scent of her ancient blood rises to tease his more ancient nostrils and he subtly inhales with his soul, he sees that things are more complicated than he could ever hope they would never be...
It’s a lovely restaurant.
There is no artificial lighting. Just hundreds of candles that flicker from recessed niches in the walls and on every table.
And you’ve done everything right so far. From seating me in my chair, with the slight brush of your knuckles across my bare shoulders as you removed my light jacket, to taking my purse from my bloodless fingers to place it next to my feet, you have excelled. As you knelt beside me and ran your fingertips up my bare leg you lift your perfect lips into a melting smile that promises everything.
I want everything
And there you are, sitting across from me. So perfect, my dream, my nightmare, my man of the hour, my choice. The candle light is kind to you and as I stare over the glass rim of a red wine I’m enthralled by your voice. I don’t know what you're saying but you just have to keep talking and I’ll just keep redrawing you in the candlelight.
You have utterly, beguilingly captured me.
The candle on the table has lit a fire in your eyes. I imagine the fires of Hell burn there and shiver at the thought of all that wickedness. The way you ran your fingers through your hair has tricked me into thinking that two small (very sexy) horns protrude from your head. It’s an illusion, but one that I’m happy to run with.
As you pick up my hand and feather kisses along my fingertips I feel the brush of the stubble on your face which I’m sure wasn’t there when we walked hand in hand to our table but the facial hair is unmistakable. Is it possible I’m here with a Lycanthrope? Will our evening end with me running bare foot through the woods while a howl scrapes delicious shivers down my spine? Will I fall to my knees, a victim of the beast as it stalks me, scenting the wind, marking it’s prey, spying me and leaping to devour me? One glance at the full moon suggests I might be in for a wild night.
In the candlelight you morph into all of my fantasies. But now, I’m just hungry.
The illusion is just too hard to hold. I haven’t eaten since my last foray into the mortal world and I’m too tired to hold onto the hope that I can make it past reality.
The restaurant drops away. The candles burn down to one lowly guttering torch and you're just a little boy (next to my 712 years) standing in a cave, where I have lured you and you're more than aware that you're not desert, you’re the main meal and the adrenaline coursing through your beautiful veins have my fangs dropping and my eyes smoldering but don’t worry, I can make it pleasurable, if I want to, it depends whether my fantasies have been strong enough, but I will respect you…
before you start reading, please not that the Barbie in this poem is not the registered trademark that is the Barbie doll (all is revealed in the notes)
When Barbie wakes up in the morning
Even the birds stop chirping in fright
She makes her way to the wardrobe knowing
What is inside will start the day right
First to be donned is her barbarian bra
It takes quite a task to fill
She really is ever so grateful for her bra
It keeps all the best bits subdued and still
The bras must always go on first
Without it she would be in trouble
If the briefs went on first without the bra
To this day she’d still be bent over double
Next on are the bountiful bootylicious briefs
She worries that they may have shrunk
Mayhap she should stop putting them in the dryer
They are essential to keep all her junk in her trunk
Over the top of the barbarian bra
Goes a sweater with the deepest V neck you’ll find
The cleavage that is on display is important
It keeps the focus from straying to her behind
On go the boots and laced up tight
These babies were made for walking
But most days they are just for comfort
Unless she’s up for some stalking
Last of all on her perfectly coiffed head
She settles her beautiful hat
It looks a little like a large table umbrella
In fact, once upon a time, it was actually that!
She’s now ready to start her day
And the birds resume chirping like a choir
Barbie is ready to face the world dressed in her
Barbarian Bra and Bountiful Bootylicious Briefs and
Other Amazing Attire
Twenty seven cracks
upon the ceiling
They have all been
Hundreds of rifts
no sign of healing
A burn to feel
The muted sound
of another day
Makes no difference in
On slivers of light
dust motes play
there is no joy for them
as they swirl
Over and over they come
But there is no looking away
from the ceiling
Not once to them
would it occur
Inside she is
The screaming banshee
Shrieks that make a
The torn and bleeding
heart that weeps
Jagged breaths mark
seconds in time
Just high up
Just an ever knowing
Knowing that it will all
For a time
at twenty seven
Tasting like a new spring day
So soft and moist with dew
A small lift, a tilting smile
Promises all dreams do come true
One small sip is never enough
One soft word demands one more
One light kiss from your whispering lips
Is to drift away from shore
Sometimes the mask will crack
I see what there is to hide
Your whispering lips are still so soft
Gentle words still lilt on the tide
But there is now a bitter after taste
From your softly whispering lips
Demanding words are spoken
Poison glinting on their tips
I willingly kept drinking your words
Poison flowing through my veins
Such ghastly death I might of deserved
Where your words are all that remain
The ultimate shocking betrayal
That also became my demise
Did not spill for your whispering lips
But bled from your lying eyes.
Lipstick on his collar
Bruises on my breast