love something in between
love the chase
love the adventure,
but this time
the wings failed to seduce the wind
love the rush
love the warmth
love the ecstasy--
euphoria by something borrowed
love the game
and play it hard
fight or fold
yet what's at stake
is more than I'm willing to risk
Life Death Hope Loss
A canvas of happiness and sorrow
The Aesthetic of existing
Beauty in the painting
Admiring the painter
Every stroke from birth to final light
We wake the morning
We die to the night
Wherever we go
The static plays a melody
The sound of increasing pretense
As the serpents die of their own poison
Drink from their own goblets
The play is over and the curtains close
Thank you for coming
We hope you enjoyed the show
met an angel about a couple weeks ago, turns out her choker was a disguise for her halo. there's a war in her heart and it's a thing of beauty. she said i gotta fight for her love and that's my call of duty. her boy thought he was the god of war and he could disrespect us. so i put that lord in the ring now she watching her ex(x) box. she asked 'you a player or a baller?' she said show me your true colors. i said yeah, but i'm in a game boy where it's more advanced than colors. i make beauty in six seconds like the vine app. i make something out of nothing now it's your turn, what can your mind(mine) craft? she said it's too busy harboring demons, there's not a thing that's given her life meaning. but i came along and like i'm a hitman in her mind, I killed the demon inside just so the devil may cry. And then we kissed, and I found out that cupid is just a drunk teenager playing arrow ambush with my back. We kissed again and I felt the next 30 years of my life, then i looked into your eyes and saw the year 2048 and all the other years after the first 30, those years we have to find our uncharted feelings. let me be the Nathan to your Drake. Leave me clues to find the treasure you have hidden in you.
You liked card games with Bart liked to sit there and watch him and his emotions play out as they did when he thought he was losing the game even if it turned out afterwards he won you in your white dress-white for purity he jested- and straight mousey hair and the white shoes you wore which he said reminded him of that nurse in the nursing home he went to as a boy who used to touch him in bed at night when she did her rounds and the other children were asleep touched him in places he thought unusual and thinking about it later as utterly sexual it was getting late the sky was dark and stars and a moon shone and you had lit the candle to give light and Bart stood there by the table-he stood as he got anxious of losing- holding his cards in his hand his other hands on the table him staring at you then the cards in your hands watching as you dealt them or laid some on the table you smiled at him he didn't smile but stared at you you're cheating he said how am I cheating? you said I cheat never you replied smiling unable not to smile at him with that look on his face he had an odd face-much as you loved him- his brown hair with the widow's peak largish ears elfish and brown eyes that stared and stared you put a card on the table he gazed at you as you put the card down any good for you? You asked he shook his head looked at the card you stared at him at his red jumper-he liked red it was his bit of revolutionary stand his ideas of communism much his own-I suppose you have a good hand he said looking straight at you both are good hands you said smiling I meant your card hand he said moodily not bad you said holding your cards against your small breast he held his cards behind his back and walked over to the radio and turned it on a fuzz of noise erupted then it settled on a station of classic music-he loved Bach he was a Bach addict- the music was Mozart a piano piece he walked back to the table and sat down his cards against his chest he was a genius Bart said who was? You said Mozart he replied you laid down another card he took it quickly and put another down in its place he smiled that's better he said the music was not too loud so did not distract you watched him as you carried on with the game Duncan's wife's pregnant Bart said you gazed at him that's her fourth isn't it? You said yes it will be he said poor girl you said having him on her having it away so often Clare is up for it Bart said moodily-he hated you saying things about Duncan- as she a choice? You said putting another card on the table of course she does Bart said he stared at the card but didn't pick it up you took the card and replaced it with another a useless card to you you looked at your hand of cards it was better Duncan was a Scot a big Scot and Clare was a small girl and you found it difficult to image them having sex him pushing her into the bed and thrusting into her like some old steam train into a tunnel Bart and Duncan had been university friends and Clare had been a student of art she painted water colour-not much good- Bart stood up as stared at his cards his ears moving as they did when he got either annoyed or pleased he walked about the room what's up bad hand? You said he paused no not that he said just thinking about Duncan what about him? You said eyeing your cards taking a card from the pack on the table and laying it down on the table Bart looked at the card then looked away he's having an affair Bart said gazing at you wondering what you might say who's the stupid bitch? You asked picking up the card and putting down another card in its place your card hand was getting real good no one you know Bart said how do you know whom I know I might know her you said doesn't matter you're not to tell Clare it would do her mind in if she found out Bart said so who is this bit on the side? You said Bart hesitated looked at you then at his cards her name's Julie he said works in his office typical you said is she blind or stupid or both? She's a secretary and he has know her sometime Bart said you held your cards close to your breast and where do they go to have it off? You said you make it out to be cheap Bart said he loves her and the fact Clare is pregnant complicates things the Mozart ends and a voice mutters on about the piece I bet it does you said poor Clare I bet she thinks the sun shines out of his big backside Bart laid his cards on the table with a flourish the cards spread out like a coloured fan beat that he said you gazed at his cards on the table and smiled and laid your cards beside his how's that? You said he closed his eyes you cheat I'm sure he said just skill and luck you replied a Schubert piano piece started up on the radio Bart looked at you then sat down his face sulky you're not to say anything to Clare he said she'd not take it well you gathered all the cards together and shuffled them up another game? You asked no I'm not in the mood he replied I'd not tell Clare you said let her find out the hard way you said she won't find out if you say nothing Bart said grimly she'd tell me if your were bonking someone else you said putting the cards back in the pack I wouldn't do that to you Bart said looking at you with his brown eyes I'm glad to hear it you said but Duncan's thing is different Bart said he's fallen in love it's not just about sex it's love he told me and does he love Clare any more? You asked he didn't say just said he loved this Julie and they had sex a few times where did they go? You asked how do I know? Bart said in the office after the others had left to go home did he have her over his desk or on the floor? Why do you have to cheapen things? Bart said it's love and it has a kind of beauty to it you stared at him sitting there there's no beauty in betrayal you said he said nothing to that but stared at his hands on the table his fingers moving as if the table was a piano say nothing to Clare Bart said his fingers following each other on the imaginary keyboard I'll say nothing you said Bart stood up and turned off the radio the room became silent bedtime he said you blew out the candle and the room became dark lightened only by the moonlight Bart went out of the room and you followed closing the door behind you and followed him up the stairs looking at his light brown trousers and black shoes knowing it was going to be one of those nights with Bart wanting to have it away wanting his sexual rights.
He is torn
between two royals,
blue blood, pretty eyes.
One is his master, his King.
The other holds his heart captive,
She is porcelain skin, bloody hair.
Her mouth is a wicked creature,
poison her weapon of choice
(And how she has poisoned him)
She lusts for the throne
He thwarts her at every turn
Its a strange game,
tearing each other apart
Plan something of which you know everything
Rules of the game still remain the same
of course it goes on,
all the time,
all the way at the back of mind,
since planning has always remained not only a part of the game that you play,
but also an indispensible part of everyday life in every possible way.
Go away the sour Kreepy memories,
I will definitely be crazy to relive you,
You're a bad experience - a good lesson.
Take away all the mysterious mysteries,
I will not be again a scapegoat for you,
Not a game as I am not your tampon.
And I will start afresh this year now.
My HP Poem #1361
How terrible it must be for the moon to never kiss the sun,
He must long for her warm touch,
To feel her fingers ignite him.
How many more times can he beg the sea to paint a picture of her brilliance,
Only to be met with " her beauty is blinding.
So he chases her in an infinite game,
Whispering to the star crossed constellations,
Of how much brighter he would shine,
Were he to have her by his side.