.
Lady Roxy keeps her lover private,
hidden in a box under the bed.
The only conclusion one can arrive at,
she prefers something that buzzes instead.

Lady Roxy doesn't bother with dating,
just an occasional change of battery.
No reason to hang around waiting,
for compliments and blushing flattery.

Lady Roxy's lover does as she bids,
deftly wielded as a weapon of pleasure.
With no exchange of bodily fluids,
'tis truly her most joyous treasure.


© Pagan Paul (10/10/17)

.
 Oct 2017 Renee 'Wisera'
Xyns
Hush
 Oct 2017 Renee 'Wisera'
Xyns

I felt my heart begin to pound
Your voice had that familiar sound..

I saw you slowly walk up those stairs
I knew I was right to be so scared..

The way you looked at me..
I could barely breathe..

The air was heavy with doubt
Who knew silence could be so loud?

Loving you was always so hard..
..I guess..
"We're better apart."

.
Though my boat is tossed
high upon these crests,
I fear not the deep sea
where the sailors souls rest.

Cast adrift, alone to float,
my mother Sycorax had planned.
But lo! I reach sanctuary
and dance ecstatic on the sand.

My grotesque form I treasure
but loneliness soon must end.
Yes! A monster I might be,
but Caliban needs a friend.

Paradise is mine and ripe.
Behold! A kingdom and a home!
The sun blisters all day long,
oh Muses why am I so alone?

“Hush boy! Careful of thy wish,
the scheme is so much grander.
For Prospero prowls the island
with his witch daughter Miranda”.

Run ugly Caliban. Run away.
Disappear, you must be brave.
For the Wizard has loosed Ariel,
your wretched body to enslave.

The girl holds you enchanted,
with promises of fair romance.
Feel her pull puppets strings,
watch her make You dance.

Oh Caliban! What darkness befalls,
a prisoner tithed with no trial.
Yearn, dear boy, for isolation
and the loneliness of your Isle.

© Pagan Paul (28/02/17)

.
I have always empathised with Caliban.
Enslaved by Prospero, teased by Miranda and
bullied by Ariel. Simply for being an outsider,
stupid, an ugly monster and supposedly subhuman.
Shakespeare's metaphor is rather apt for the way society,
in general today, treats people with mental health issues.
As freaks and outsiders, less than whole.
PPx

.
It drove the poet round the bend,
his limericks just wouldn't end.
They'd go well for a time,
but come the fourth line....


It drove the poet round the bend,
his limericks just wouldn't end.
They had the precision of a clock,
but then they would suddenly stop...


It drove the poet round the bend,
his limericks just wouldn't end.
It really wasn't his fault,
they just came to a halt...


...fuck it!


© Pagan Paul (01/02/17)

 Feb 2017 Renee 'Wisera'
ryn
Heavy
 Feb 2017 Renee 'Wisera'
ryn

I amble as if I weigh a tonne

I gasp as if someone has lied

I weep as if I have no words

I mourn as if something has died

Once there was a man and lady in tears
their lamentations went on for years
until came the day
before slipping away
they overcame, all of their fears

Nothing cannot be conquered, or overcome, ever. :)
.

Snot that I don't like you
or want to have you near

Snot that I want someone else
or don't care for you, my dear

Snot like I'm gay or queer
or not in, an amorous mood

Snot like you have leprosy
or your humor, badly skewed

Snot as if this won't pass
and then our bodies play

Fevers high, but not from flu
when the snot, eventually, goes away

Yup, feverish hormones, with a temperature from flu, and fluids leaking! (not the good ones either :D)
.

She touched my heart with subtlety
I've yet to grasp just how
But the echo of its passing
is with me, even now

My love isn't given lightly
even though upon my sleeve
I wear my feelings proudly
yes, I'm easy to deceive

She never meant to hurt me
or scar a treasured thing
My heart, through memories wander
forever lingering

It's not the thought of loss
or a bitterness within
More it is a feeling for
things, that might have been

(retouched, remembered, re-said)
Some memories only remind us of pain, or happiness lost :)
.

We are our brother's keeper
pain and sorrows as we weep

Worldly reminders of the bitter past
stories that we know, none, to be recast

Happy memories too numerous to name
back-page to the tragedies, with only us, to blame

It's like watching a bloody train wreck
which none of us can control, or affect

Watching the cars and coaches, as they crash and bend
as has it always been, calamity, it trends

Bad news travels far faster, and far more loudly.
Just look at any front-page. :(
.
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