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 Mar 2017 Arthur Vaso
Maria Etre
I have never felt
the cold chills
of loneliness
until my mind
went blank
at the sight of a seductive
white paper

I have never felt
the cold chills
of loneliness
until my mind
was abandoned by
its muses
leaving cobwebs
but taking away
all sense
of inspiration

I have never felt
the cold chills
of loneliness
until my heartbeats
beat for no one
but for a
life
itself
I'm lifeless without love
i'm hopeless without help
i'm lonely on my own
i'm scared i'm not myself

there's no one beside me
its been half past 10 years
my glow is now fading
without her i cant hear

i cant hear my heartbeat
i cant hear my life
i cant hear my family
the're all out of sight

and then the big bang
that sprung me back from hell
her skin is so beautiful
and elegant as well

she saved me from death
not physically, but of the mind
and now i'm a poet
and for her- i will rhyme.

i'm alive with my love
she helped me to see
now i understand family
and what it means to me
She is the one who saved me
 Mar 2017 Arthur Vaso
unnamed
So tell me
Is it possible to give love
And have it returned equally?
Is it possible to give him your soul
And have it returned whole?
Love.
Maybe this emotion is nothing
But a fictional feeling
The key to misery.
A lie,
Birthed from misleading childhood story lines.
Because I believe
There's never gold at the end of the rainbow
And a heart that's broken can't be sowed
There's no happily ever after
No perfect ending finishing the last chapter
No white picket fence or perfect family to show
Love doesn't exist
Just people here to use u as their personal
Ventriloquist...

Betrayal.
3/16/17
 Mar 2017 Arthur Vaso
Hannah
Jasmine
 Mar 2017 Arthur Vaso
Hannah
She is exotically sweet,
like cherry blossoms blooming
in the warm summer heat.
She is softer than spring,
and more delicate than daisies.
She sleeps in the rain,
bathed in the moonlight.
She loves like the sun,
and lives by the moon.
She is a creature of holiness,
her soul made of sunflowers.
She is a beackon of light,
for ships lost at sea.
She is born of the earth,
made of dirt,
and the leaves.
She is a **** that grows wildly,
among a field of planted seeds.
She is free in her spirit
for what she believes.
She is a guarder of those
who have no voice to speak.
She is heaven and hell,
mixed up times three.
She is an angel of earth,
given the force of the sea.
She is a rose without thorns,
and white as could be.
She is a rare expression of love,
favored by the bees.
She is a perfect jasmine flower,
the most beautiful you will ever see.
~ as above,
so below ~
I like the colour purple,
     as it blooms across my skin,
The delicate spread of lavender,
     dappled with yellow and green.

I like the smell of iron,
     of copper pennies and blood
As it oozes form a scab
     or drips from a fresh cut.

I like the feel of my ribs,
     the bones beneath my skin,
The curve of my skull under my cheek,
     Or the joints of every knuckle.
Wrote this on a whim..
(and yes Colour is spelt right, that's how we spell it in England.)
 Mar 2017 Arthur Vaso
Pagan Paul
.
Walking in the forest was I
when I heard a plaintiff cry
begging me to give her aid
a desperate and 'prisoned maid.

Locked up in a tower was she
all alone with her misery.
“I'll let my long hair down for thee
to climb up here and rescue me”.

I thought this was a little unwise,
a wicked glint tinged my eyes,
a knowing smile, and feeling smug,
I gave her hair a hefty tug.

Down she fell into my arms,
muttering curses, gushing charms.
Over and over we tumbled for fun
rolling about in the midday sun.

I noticed the rip in her dress
so her thigh I did fondly caress.
Respond in kind she promptly felt,
loosening off my trouser belt.

And her father's lock on her chastity
was no match for my skeleton key.
Even though he'd chained the door,
his daughter is a maiden no more.


© Pagan Paul (2017)
.
Reworked Poem.
.
 Mar 2017 Arthur Vaso
Veronika
Love
 Mar 2017 Arthur Vaso
Veronika
All my stories end the same
With snow in summer
I am sun-kissed wearing black
In the passenger seat
Cigarette in hand
Feeling down
Next to the best person I know
But he's far away, I don't care
And the sky couldn't be more white
The take-out coffee isn't as good as it should be
Hands are damp but we never let go
We get to the city at last
Let it swallow us
Blend into the crowds, we're simplified
Hiding behind the a-la-carte menu

In the hotel the dark silence grew  
We leave the sheets stained with a bit of me and you
And go home to pretend we want someone new
I thought by loving him,

I was loving him;

when in reality,

by loving me,

I am loving him.
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