Under the moonlight
In the back of an ally,
Where red neon lights
Blight out future follies,
Two soon-to-be-lovers
Grow closer to each other.
He was all sharp,
Crisp black and white lines
A close styled suit which was
Meant to define the -
Which it did quite well.
She was of fluid
Poured into a mold,
The forming container a
Red dress newly sold
For specific purpose, to -
Which she would soon do.
And in it she glimmered
And sparkled like gold,
That glittering treasure
He so wished to hold.
Yet she had approached him
And with a whisper they left,
She with her prize and
Him with his -
Which he would soon collect.
She exhaled and he breathed in
And she smelled like chocolates,
And cherries, and smoke.
And they grew close, and she spoke,
The simple words of -
But he could not hear
Because he was kissing her.
Soft and painted lips kissed back.
Only once.
She tasted like revenge, and blood.
Sharp, and wet, a knife in his gut.
He looked at her up above as
She finished her simple words:
“This is for - ”
And so he fell.
Scarlet lips contorted into
Cheshire smile,
Thoughts cavorted
With treasured grace.
Glancing into his
Bloodless face,
She whispered to him
Under her breath:
“Don’t you know red is
The color of - ?”
Aug 30, 2012
Aug 30, 2012 at 10:43 PM UTC
Whenever, whenever, when in May,
There is a day with nothing to do;
Save go through the looking glass
And trespass on hours past.
May they last forever.
Through the abyss on a lightning arc
Darkly in your mind.
Find whatever moments you choose
And lose them to your pride.
Yet arks of mine are at your side.
Jul 23, 2012
Jul 23, 2012 at 12:17 PM UTC
Amongst the still and silent plains
He wonders, traveling the fields of green.
He loses a little, every which way
Until he chances upon the bay-
A tribute to Mother Nature’s parade:
That tossed and turned and glimmering bay-
Here he travels every day.
Into the bay and onto the waters
He had sat upon a swimming boat
With wind to the hair and salt to the throat
Out on the seething, white capped fray.
This is how he was led astray.
Here he travels every day.
Then up and came the bitter storm,
And from it sliding waves took form,
And from it man and boat were born
Away from close and comfort shore
Onto another, strange and stranger more.
And here on foreign land and shore
Is a factory that stands ‘til close of day.
This is where the souls are made.
To the factory goes the man.
The walls are felt- there is a hum!
Of slow robotic delirium-
For eternity would make you wish to run.
Yet set in solid stone it is,
And set in solid stone is done
The Trade: of unseen things to souls;
Souls the result of unseen Trade; and
This is where the souls are made.
Inside the factory the man does go;
And inside, the man does see
The whole of it- it’s quite empty.
Yet creating life for eternity:
The moving parts of the factory.
Invisible to he, for he cannot see
Invisible things and invisible deeds.
For all of life, it finds a way, for
This is where the souls are made.
The whole of the lifeless building he explored,
And found he not but rusted machines galore.
Inside, finally, his emptiness did implode.
These things around him must explode.
How could he know? What thoughts could lead the way
For him to mutter, shout, and say: “Why
This is where the souls are made”?
In this place he thought abandoned
The man let go his demons rampant.
Smashing cogs with metal rod,
Turning machines to dust and fog,
Laying to waste, thus stemming the draught
Of aggression, against which all men have fought.
So from blindness and matched oblivion
He destroyed that place where all life began:
The Factory of Souls, now Graveyard to Many;
This is where the future dies.
Jul 23, 2012
Jul 23, 2012 at 12:16 PM UTC
There is one, whose piercing-orbs
See wholes yet to be fragment.
To turn what’s warm to frigid-glass,
Take what’s heated, make shivering mass
Even Earth’s-skin is met with cooling tint
Be careful, one, with soul of ice,
Be weary of the fall.
For frozen things, with a clattering ring,
Will surely shatter to a million things
When felled from heights so tall.
Jul 23, 2012
Jul 23, 2012 at 12:08 PM UTC
If I had wings, surely I would
Loose my heart to a bird or the sun in the sky.
I would give myself to a gust of wind, and
Disturb the grounds where angels fly.
I could whisk away from my world,
Go and dance on a silver cloud.
Immerse my self in the winds that swirl;
Listen as they whistle aloud.
When it rains I’ll be there laughing,
Cascading amongst the falling drops.
I will go, and be there singing,
Thunder, my drums, to back me up.
In quiet times, I’d spread my wings,
Floating, sleeping, on breezes still.
Never thinking of love or hate,
This New World would be my fill
Jul 23, 2012
Jul 23, 2012 at 12:01 PM UTC
What are these pangs
That wake me from my slumber?
Hunger?!? You devilish *******
My own worst enemy, what ***** is this?
Come to fight me on my own turf,
How dare you? Not even bothering to show your own face.
How fare you? So poor that you must come bother me,
A plump little house cat such as I, truly
You disgust me. Hiss.
.......
From the land of the warming rays you would pluck me
My own sacred home, you disrupt me!
But of course Hunger never goes away on its own,
It’ll ***** at you and **** and wear you down to the bone
Until you feed it some delicate morsel,
Like tuna, perhaps. I was always partial
Towards tuna.
.......
Hunger’s a real witty foe, too,
Never facing you head on, no
It’s much too smart for that.
The fool makes you walk to the kitchen.
That’s about thirty ****** steps for me,
God I despise it; but then of course I have to prep for it!
Mewing pitifully and rolling around on my back,
Enticing that lazy-arse human to tally from his track
And come feed me. Jesus, pity me,
I know I do.
........
“Oh, look at the cute little kitty fuzz awww”
Oh **** off and feed me you ****
“Aw but you’re such a fat little cat! You don’t need the food!”
I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch it, what was that?
I’m dying of hunger over here, mate.
You’re not going to feed me? Just walk away?
Very well, you’ve made your play.
I’m gonna go **** in your shoes,
How’s that for a how-do-you-do?
........
Hunger, my mortal enemy, my only friend,
You’ve won this fight, but it’s not the end.
You might grumble my stomach in sweet revelry,
Taking joy in my delicious misery-
But hark, what’s this before me??
Oh hunky dory, ~purr~
... There’s no way he’s this stupid, for sure...
Oh, but there is, though it cannot be!
My master’s, (unawares), left out a morsel for me.
You hear that, Hunger, it’s fantastic, I’ve won!
(Even though you’re victory had only just begun),
Dear fat master had left out his food, you see
And now I shall feast and set my hunger free.
For in front of me, O Sweet Salvation!
... A sandwich, for my consumer-ation.
Jul 23, 2012
Jul 23, 2012 at 11:50 AM UTC
A clock hand twirls everyday
Steady and soft, uncertainty's delay
Is not felt, never to be faced
By clocks that tremble to keep pace
Then watch as you make time speed up
Hands spin faster from your disrupt
Hear as sound goes from tick to tumble
Then a boom and a crash, see them stumble
Your element, steady as waves and the ocean
Made it accelerate, literally increase motion
And heat up, from the most basic of notions
When simple clock ticks become an explosion
Does the world not stop as it turns on it's gears?
Pause as it's shook by ticking commotion
How can everything not **** it's head to hear
When those little beats become an explosion
Does nothing ever turn to witness this rush-
Or see- Or feel- this explosive feat?
Then whispered, following the lightest touch,
You say:
"I can feel your heart beat"
Jul 23, 2012
Jul 23, 2012 at 11:47 AM UTC
I invite you now to walk with me,
Take my hand you wanderlust soul.
Close your eyes so you can see
These things of which I think and dream.
First the night sky, that star-splattered eye
The moon, its iris, bright silver light.
When blinking, dies to sun-lit day
The lid that keeps all-dark at bay.
And as with all eyes this one cries
Droplets of water like falling tides.
Rain drums down on thirsty sand
The brushes of a close friend’s hand.
Travel now across the dunes,
The sand unraveling in cool night air
And spreading ‘cross the still parched earth
Little thoughts and notions it will consume.
Reaching a crest, you spot a silhouette
Of buildings, like teeth, that snarl at the sky.
Wonder then at hidden virtues,
Placed amongst the sinful hues.
Venture, now, to the city
Whose shimmering lights the dark defy.
Envision now the light of sin
The glare that sends all love to die.
Herein we see the embers burning
Chunks of coal that leave us yearning.
Our minds outpace reality to bliss
Leaving them to burn in deadly furnace.
Here more than elsewhere I misplace my thoughts
Losing them to fiery draught
But other places yet occupy this land
Than cities and dunes and a comforting hand.
There is a place where sound takes shape
Kinetic colors that move, whirl and sway
To beats and rhythms, they dance away
Holding intrusive thought at bay.
While high above, the angels soar
“It’s a strange world”~ and they would know;
While soft guitars do strum below.
Their cadence hum and softly roar
Roads meet, twist, and converge,
Disappear into tunnels, do they ever emerge?
Their paved surfaces running back and forth,
While passing one and another, a third, a fourth.
I leave you now with this mirage
This, my personal mental image.
They are my dreams and reveries
This place where I shall ever be.
Feb 3, 2012
Feb 3, 2012 at 8:41 PM UTC