patch
no prom queen
blue jean teen
empty holes
empty eyes
wash away fade
Vashti
May 15, 2014
May 15, 2014 at 9:40 PM UTC
Thus she pulled tautly
Against his well worn jerkin
Free of woes and clothes
And skin without sin
Removing the veil of enchantment until she rose
Like a full ripe moon high
Upon his radiant earthly body
The welkins were pleased
Sighed with relief
So silken was she within
His richness and majesty
They adorned her with
Their supernatural jewels
To symbolize her graceful submissive gentle nature
They removed from her the chains erasing her paint
This transforming her scars
Into bejewelled stars
To bedeck the ashen midnight of her past with dawns beauty and light
Presenting them both
With a present of eternal
Passion and fulfilment
Mary C Puls
Thus she pulled tautly
Against his well worn jerkin
Free of woes and clothes
And skin without sin
Removing the veil of enchantment until she rose
Like a full ripe moon high
Upon his radiant earthly body
The welkins were pleased
Sighed with relief
So silken was she within
His richness and majesty
They adorned her with
Their supernatural jewels
To symbolize her graceful submissive gentle nature
They removed from her the chains erasing her paind
This transforming her scars
Into bejewelled stars
To bedeck the ashen midnight of her past with dawns beauty and light
Presenting them both
With a present of eternal
Passion and fulfilment
Mary C Puls
Vashti Ayla Miria
May 15, 2014
May 15, 2014 at 9:38 PM UTC
n leas of dying daisy's
he lies upon the backs
of those he lays
the lies like upturned bricks
thick with spittle
and coming mud
he muddles through each splotchy patch
as if it is his idem
everlasting
last
coiled he reels
reeking in wait
for his unappealing
stiffened snake
insipid wretch
with rusted wrench
his shrivelled tools
a cake with stench
each loose lewd *****
is one more lent
to the putrid pool
of polliwogs and salamanders
spent drenched in his capsized
boats of ill demise
he criticises truth and lies
again the pain is gnarled around his pen
Vashti Ayla Miria
May 15, 2014
May 15, 2014 at 9:35 PM UTC
item
it
list
****
it
is
over
and
over
again
gain
nothing
no thing
idem
mentality
Vashti Ayla Miria
May 15, 2014
May 15, 2014 at 9:30 PM UTC
Pull the wool over the centre of my scorn
like an air born storm seeking a stark relief
Vanity bleeds with a ***** of my thorn
My milk drips like rain from my well worn teats
My poplin was weaved from the cotton of a slave
My bread baked like a monks last rosary bead
My spark is lost in the sins of my ash
The past is reborn in the bud of a funeral wreath
Unsheathe your knife while I let down my hair
I am born towards the air and your sweat deep beneath
Belief is a question best left in the glittering rain
The moon is encircled in the suns shadow and pain
What appears in the mirror is not necessarily true
My lamb bleats as boy blue plays his horn
Jealously writhes like a snake shedding her skin
I die in your moment until mine is reborn
Kiss my forehead with the scars of past remains
settle into me without fences or names
The wildest horse is this mare with an inky blank mane
Dripping ink and dreams al over the place
Who says I had a choice then or now
To follow my heart or to fetch fallow stars
It matters not if perspective says you're at the top or bottom stair
The wand weaves its magic in spirals mid air
The dairy maid lifts her apron towards the sky
Sighs at another day of being on her knees
No matter how hard she scrubs the stains won't go away
She won't wake up pretty but she still believes
The wolf is a friend to the girl in the red hood
who goes to bed with a ***** and a howl
Pacing back and forth she rocks the censer of your earth
unwringing the sponge while throwing in the towel
My sash was sliced with the thinnest line of red
Berries crushed virginity seeps like an endless blush
My wish was to be chosen like a dark angel at the foot of your bed
Tightening with each plunk of your fruits echoing in my pail
Unfold me like the beauty beneath a forgery
so well done though by anothers hand
Unbend me like a willow branch from the holes in your fence
then dig me deep across the acres of free land
Let the tapestry gather motes of silver dust
The spiders trust is an eighth of eternity
The king swallows the pearls on his sceptre while the queen slides through the eye of the needle- a sugar cube is melting in a porcelain cup
Wink your eye then blink back the tears of infinity
The wheels spin as the story unfolds
The castle has but chambers where the fools below in relief
The court jester juggles like a dwarf on speed
Vashti Puls
May 15, 2014
May 15, 2014 at 9:28 PM UTC