Faith is mythical
as lands devoured by sea,
as griffins and goblins,
in tangled daydreams.
By these muddy shores,
shipwrecks of hope.
treasures and tales,
unheard, untold.
Tyrant needs sustain,
their sadist chains hold
dreamers of blue, and gold.
Nov 3, 2014
Nov 3, 2014 at 4:46 AM UTC
As the stars burn, rake in the silver sky
Lighting it up, like a cinema screen;
Lift your dainty hand and draw,
Marmite love on our canvas of dreams.
As you fade, I’ll begin
Let me in your simple self
And sway
And stay,
there
till the mortal end.
On a fragrant hill someplace lay, a snug you-me;
Squirrels sneak into a daisy, grass and love entwine.
We stare, in trance; at our sublime canvas
at an abstract life so quite.
A sudden chirp precedes your crinkled smile…
The warmth of it…against the coldness of the dew.
Aug 23, 2014
Aug 23, 2014 at 11:47 PM UTC
Since time unknown I wanted a mutt
No Lego, No Hershey , would make me stop
A golden lab, only, could break the rut
Which i could feed and sit atop.
Mother worried for the allergies and the fleas,
the constant bark, dirt and spit.
I swore to keep him up in trees
and silent like a lonely pit.
We got a pup and named it Edison,
he did not explicitly, discover electric light.
All he had was poo and medicine
No wonder his tummy was never right.
Every time a **** he let away
With each paw he dug to dig.
At midnight as others lay
He ate on like a pig.
One night a robber, dull and round,
hauled himself across the yard;
And then onto some furry ground,
where the cur lay, his fat splayed, somehow, somewhat, on guard.
A brawl ensued, boy, there was blood!
the thief bit him and he bit back.
Now, i have two graves in the mud,
of Edison and of Jack.
Aug 23, 2014
Aug 23, 2014 at 11:45 PM UTC
She comes in nuzzling,
full of salt, full of froth;
lingers, indulging in sun
Slowly then goes, taking some tender earth
making it pure.
She nudges again,
this time with a shell,
pouring its secrets, a hum and some cries.
I hold it naively, by my ear
it soothes and smothers, her perpetual low rumble.
She comes in nuzzling,
and parts again
Our oft affair remains...
Aug 23, 2014
Aug 23, 2014 at 11:41 PM UTC
For lust is a tightrope,
soldering fickle hearts, sewing passion.
Fade at its end,
or tumble into love.
Some hope woos smother,
contemplates the fall
To stir a velvet landing,
and dances slow.
She in her unbidden trance,
her golden hair littered,
sits in prayer, fidgets;
snuffed from the fall.
Forlorn, for an indulgent sliver.
Now lies a cold lover,
in her morphine bedlam.
Aug 23, 2014
Aug 23, 2014 at 11:35 PM UTC